#i genuinely wish so much i could be more open and less closed off on here

[villainousauthor]

Hero continues to rock the wailing infant, trying to shush her. It's been hours, and still they haven't been able to get her to calm down. Nothing has worked, not a bottle, a diaper change, nothing.

Hero places their hand against her small forehead, checking for a fever, maybe. They feel so beyond their depth right now. Hero's barely slept the past day, and they're dead on their feet, eyes barely staying open.

"I wish you could just tell me what's wrong. This is so frustrating." Hero whines, still bouncing the crying infant.

"It's unfortunate, most babies can't talk." The familiar voice comes from behind, and Hero whirls around defensively to see Villain standing in the doorway of the nursery.

"What are you doing here?" Hero demands, clutching their child closer.

"You haven't come to fight me in months. I've sent out clear messages-"

"You mean constantly blowing up buildings and taking people hostage?" Hero interrupts, still holding their baby close to their chest.

"-but you never came. I was starting to think you died," Villain finishes eloquently. "I can see now that you've been a bit busy." They take a step closer, and Hero takes another step back, trying to keep distance.

This was bad. Hero very much intended that no one would know about their child, enemies especially. They could feel anxiety rising in their chest, clawing at their throat.

Villain eyes their movement before speaking again. "Shame, I would have sent a gift if I'd known. Who's the other parent?" Their eyes shoot back up to Hero's as they ask.

"No one. She's mine, her other parent is irrelevant." Hero says defensively. The baby continues to cry, face red.

Villain looks over the both of them, humming as they consider this. "So you're doing this alone. How long have you been up for?"

The question seems harmless, and yet Hero hesitates, still not trusting Villain. The way they ask though, seems simply curious.

"...A few hours now. I can't get her to sleep." Hero finally says quietly.

Villain steps closer again, this time slowly, as if to not worry Hero. "I can tell," They snort, but the words are soft, "You look completely exhausted."

"Jeez thanks-"

"May I try?" Villain asks, voice gentle. Hero looks at them like they've grown three heads. The very idea that Hero would hand their child over to Villain is so beyond ridiculous, that they can't believe they asked.

Vilain sees their expression and rolls their eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to harm her. I know you'd kick my ass if I even tried. I'm good with kids, and you look like you're going to fall over any minute."

They step even closer and lift a finger to the small baby, which she grabs with her chubby little hand. Villain chuckles at the sight.

Hero watches, eyes fighting to stay open. Villain is right, they do feel like they're on the verge of collapse any moment. Arms are heavy from continuously rocking the baby, legs feel like jello.

"Okay, you can hold her for a moment. But I swear to everything that if you do anything to harm her, your body will end scattered in tiny pieces across the country." Hero warns, their voice more deadly than it's ever been with Villain.

Villain simply smiles as they reach out for the baby. "I wouldn't expect anything less." They take her in their arms, holding her comfortably. Hero immediately collapses down into the nearby rocking chair.

They rock her in their arms like it's the most natural thing in the world. Hero watches on in surprise as she starts to calm down somewhat, though she's still fussy. The lack of wailing level crying is a godsend though.

"How in the world.." Hero asks, amazed at the sight.

Villain grabs a pacifier off the near by changing table, giving it to the infant. She accepts it easily and finally settles down.

"I told you I'm really good with kids. Plus babies just like me," They say as they look down at the infant in their arms with the most genuine smile Hero has ever seen, "Also have you considered that she might be teething?"

Hero raises an eyebrow before yawning suddenly. "Ah..no I haven't. I'm new to this, and I feel like I'm learning as I go along..."

"It probably doesn't help that you don't have any help either. Why don't you rest for a bit while I hold her?" Villain suggests, noticing how on the verge of falling asleep they are. "I promise I'll stay right here, and she'll be okay. You should get some sleep."

"I'm not so sure about that..." Hero replies, though their head is already starting to sag. "How'd you get so good with kids anyways?" They ask, their eyes beginning to flutter.

Villain chuckles quietly. "You don't get to unlock my tragic back story that easily." But Hero is already asleep, passed out over in the chair. Villain continues to hold the baby as they drap a small blanket over Hero.

[luveline]

hi jade !! this is me resending my hotch request bc of ur recent post 🤍 i sent the one about hotch taking care of bau!reader who has a really bad stomachache, thanks so much, i think you’re amazing 💞💞💞

thank you for requesting angel! fem

You do this sad thing with your hands when you're in pain. Aaron wishes he didn't know your tell, that he'd never had reason to understand it, but he does. Your fingers, in particular your pinky, curl toward your palm frenetically, and he has an ample view of your closed off face in the chair opposite. He can pin the moment he knows you're in pain down to the minute twitch of your lip. 

He peeks at Morgan where he lays on the couch before leaning across the table to touch your arm. The jet offers little privacy, so Aaron tries to be delicate. 

“L/N? Are you alright?” 

“Mm,” you hum, too high-pitched to have come out the way you meant it. 

“What's wrong?” 

“Nothing.” You say this, and yet you can't open your eyes, leaning less than subtly away from him as though your pain is catching.

Aaron keeps his head down as he stands so as not to attract attention. You've sat near the wall, leaving an empty seat for him to sit in. “Hey,” he says, touching the crook of your elbow, wanting to fix it, soothe the twitch from your hand, “you're in pain.” 

“It's nothing.” 

“Saying it won't necessarily make it true,” he says. 

“It felt worth trying.” 

He is genuinely perturbed to see you in pain like this without explanation. “You have to tell me what's wrong.” 

“Hotch, I…” you say, your voice wrought with embarrassment as you open your eyes, “it's just my stomach hurts. That's all.” 

“Sharp pains?” 

“Just hurts. Nothing dire.” 

“How do you know?” he asks. 

“Happens sometimes.” 

He puts his arm around you, careful not to jostle your back. You're tense as a rubber band about to snap. It's unlike you to be the more rigid of the two of you, less foreign for Hotch to have softened, especially when it's you. “How often?” he asks, wary of the tears brimming like silver at the corners of your eyes. 

“Just sometimes, I don't know.” You speak in a concise, panicked tenor. 

In this line of work, it could be anything. Not eating enough, not having time to stop for breath. You could be thirsty, sick, anxious, stressed into pain. It could be purely psychosomatic or you could be injured. He can't remember you taking any blows during the last few days away. It could be your period. You might not want to mention that. 

“Y/N,” he says, falling out of boss mode now he's sure it's not going to kill you, and into someone who cares for you, “what can I do?” 

You shudder a breath, slouched under his touch. “It's not that bad.” 

It's clearly a shocking amount of pain. Your shuddering worsens as he pulls you into his side. He's prepared to sit with you until you can give him better instructions, or until the pain passes, or, God forbid, things get worse. “I'm here,” he says, rubbing your arm gently. “Try to breathe.” 

He's wondering why you might think this amount of pain is normal, or acceptable. Wondering why he shouldn't just call for medical assistance here and now, but then you start to come around, your face shining with perspiration. “Oh,” you sigh, wiping your face with your sleeve, leaning into your hand, hiding. 

“Is it getting better?” he asks. 

“I think it's anxiety or something.” Your breath slips out in disjointed huffs. 

He can't guess what it is. Have you been to the doctor? he wants to ask, but perhaps in a moment, when you're steady in yourself again. “From the jet?” 

“No. Maybe.” You frown. 

“Jack doesn't understand that I'm on a plane.” 

You lift your gaze in confusion. Aaron moves onwards.

“He doesn't understand that this is a plane. I brought him by, once, to try to explain why I can't always answer the phone. It's thick metal, you know?” It was an easier explanation than having no signal in the sky. “But he didn't get that it was something that could move. I had to take him to the airport. We watched…” He slows as your eyes meet his completely. “We watched them take off for hours. Now he doesn't get so angry when I don't answer.” 

“Jack was angry?” you ask, half incredulous. 

“A bit.” He tries to string the story together before you can realise what it is he's doing, his arm curling around your from behind, fingers making the most tenuous of circles into the very side of your stomach. A barely there sort of comfort. “It's not like him. He reminds me of his mom when he's angry.” 

Your smile is a physical relief to see. “Does he have tantrums?” 

“Doesn't every kid?” 

You talk about Jack in dulcet tones while he tries to keep the pain at bay, his arm steadfast behind you, your faces closer than they have any platonic business being. He'll pester you into doctors appointments when you touch down, but for now, he just holds you and talks to you like everything is normal. 

You cover his hand with yours when the pain starts anew, talking through it, pain in the soft line of your bottom lip. 

“Am I hurting you?” he asks. You give him a weak smile. He feels awful, but it makes his heart race. So close, and so pretty, and so upset. “Is there anything I can do?” 

An embarrassing amount of weight lies in ‘anything’. You shake your head, whispering, “Nothing. This is enough.” 

Aaron pulls you in closer and wraps both of his arms around you, hiding you from the others, an aimless attempt to protect you from a pain he can't touch. Someone puts a cup of tea on the table for you, but otherwise you're left alone for the rest of the flight. 

[lunarw0rks]

Hi!!! I just wanna start by saying I love your writing so much. I always look forward to seeing what you share next!

Can I request a little something about reader who grew up never really having their birthday celebrated/they always downplay it. Then here comes Soap who loves nothing more than to celebrate his loves ones and reader is touched and basically almost sobs at how he genuinely enjoys making their day special🥺

This is totally not a self-indulgent ask whatsoever. If you can get to this, that'd be sweet but if not that's ok too! Have a great day💗

warning(s); sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining? but still platonic by the end, military!reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n word count: 1.6k // not proofread

TRADITIONS | SOAP MACTAVISH

birthday celebrations were never on your radar, and especially not after choosing such a rugged career.

there often wasn't time for streamers and light conversation; it was anything but those things. throughout your childhood, there weren't momentous parties or cheery wishes thrown your way. it was... not much of a celebration at all.

after you grew out of your innocence, the sting of it disappeared over time. or you learned to ignore it. either way, you never expected parties, gifts, or anything alike.

it was better this way; you'd repeat to yourself.

yet, when passing a park and seeing a child's entire kin gathered to celebrate the milestone—you have that same cramp in your chest as if you hadn't aged at all.

today was akin to any other; exhausting. long hours of PT and drills, paired with new material to study, courtesy of Price. the busier the better, though, because it was less chance of your captain mentioning the big day, even in passing.

thankfully, he hadn't, nor did the rest of them.

it was the peaceful hours before official lights out, when every soldier retreated to their quarters and occupied themselves with something, or simply slept early. you sat down on the thin cot with a beat sigh, unzipping your tight boots and setting them aside—procrastinating shining them by morning.

through all the uncertainty, there's one thing you're sure of—a steamy shower. the hot beads of water cleanse you of the dirt and grime of today and its meaning.

you figure that once you get into bed and tomorrow rolls around, it'll be another birthday stifled and forgotten.

one moment, you're sitting on the edge and applying lotion to your dry and cracked hands, and next, you're startled by a knock at the door. you gazed at the digital clock on your nightstand;

10:38 PM

at this hour, what could it possibly be? with this task force, you'd been conditioned to expect anything, at any time—and that did not inspire confidence at the moment.

"it's open," you replied reluctantly, not wanting to get the doorknob greasy with lotion remnants. with a few struggling grunts, the door finally opened and closed.

his hairstyle, as recognizable as ever. "there ya are." he said with enthusiasm, in the likeness of an over-excited detective that solved a tough case.

"c'mere for a minute," he curled his fingers. despite his cheeky smile, you indulge his request. slipping off the edge, you approach him and supply only a perplexed look.

you were quickly running out of guesses, "Mactavish, what is—"

an explosion; tiny fragments falling like ash all around your body. some landed in your hair, others on your shoulders, and most on the leaden cement floor of the barracks.

you opened your eyes after they squinted from the startle. you grabbed the dainty rain, looking down and seeing rainbow confetti pieces. soap's palm was open, and he was actively chuckling at your shocked expression.

"hello, you in there? happy birthday?" he says, as a question, because you haven't had much of a reaction. to him, it probably looked like you hated the surprise.

a rush of emotions pumped through you; disbelief, gloom, and overbearing all—consolation.

warmth spread over your chest and cheeks, and you're suddenly overcome with all the feelings at once. you fumbled through a sentence, "oh, you didn't have to— really, Soap, it's... wait, how did you do the...?"

"—the confetti?" soap sneers, as if he'd been waiting for you to mention his party trick. "trick o' the palm, i can't tell ye more; it's classified."

for a few moments, you stare at one another. his beam is genuine, but yours is unsure and borderline awkward. when you're literally smacked in the face with surprise, everything feels unrefined and alien. especially birthdays.

"don't be daft, had to help you celebrate. besides, you didn't say anythin' today." lightly, he smacked your shoulder, knocking the silence from your throat.

"I just don't see the point, I guess," you reply, and soften your expression to make it known that you still appreciate the kind gesture. following, you shook off some of the confetti from your shoulders as if ridding your body of the festivities.

soap furrows his brows with genuine confusion, "in what? confetti or my presence?"

"in birthdays." you assert, a stark contrast to his playful nature. "never really celebrated one before."

his shock was authentic and obvious, pulled together with slightly agape lips, "you can't be serious— never?" you nodded, sticking to your story, because it wasn't a story at all. it was your truth. "don't you want gifts? all the attention? what about the cake?"

"it's not from a lack of trying, MacTavish. you can't exactly... want something you've never had." you scoff, looking the eager sergeant up and down.

he does the same, and his heart sinks when he senses no lies. you really aren't lying, and you really are this indifferent about your own birthday.

to him, it's completely unheard of. birthdays were some of his core memories, his own and his family back home. how could you have been deprived of that for so long, and be so... collected?

"doesn't matter where you came from, or why; you deserve a celebration."

his merriment wasn't posed as a question anymore, and you didn't want it to be either. part of you—so deep down you hadn't felt it right away—wanted to be celebrated on your special day.

all of it caught up with you at once, and without any strength to conceal it, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. a glimpse of your damaged and long-deprived inner child, presented through a grown soldier's body.

he brought you closer, a supportive hand on the nape of your neck as you clung to him tightly. "thank you." you muttered, chin resting on his shoulder.

"aye, but it's nothing." soap pulled you back, forcing you to stare at him head on. a thumb reached up and wiped the salty tears, then smoothed over your cheek. "y'know what, I know what we've got t' do." he breathes, voice dropping to a whisper, as if concealing his idea from the world.

your face scrunched in confusion. "we?"

as if ignoring your question, he kept rambling, "you have holiday coming up. request time off, and i'll take you all the way home with me."

"all the way home?" you queried, unsure of what kind of holiday to be picture. with him, it could be anything under the blazing sun.

he slowed down his speech and affirmed, "all the way home." it dawned on you what he meant, but nothing sour arose from that idea.

"Nana, she'll put on one hell of a party for you, trust me." finally, his rambles had calmed, awaiting your reaction. it was near impossible to refuse his puppyish demeanor, the one he shifted into when he wanted something the most.

"cake?" you questioned, surprising him with almost no argument. the nonchalance had to look uncanny, considering your cheeks were still stained with streams.

he grinned with satisfaction. "aye, 'course there's cake. can't forget the streamers, and best of all—the MacTavish rugrats, and brood, in one place."

well, now that sounded more like a nightmare; your mind filled with the image of a hundred little mohawks reaping havoc on your birthday party. but in the middle of the chaos would be you and soap; the only mildly convincing part of this scheme.

"i can't expect your whole family to gather and plan a party for someone they've never met. let alone m—"

"well, actually, that's the kicker," he interjected, unveiling a new layer to his little birthday scheme. one he could've been planning for god knows how long. "Nan is having a get-together around that time, it won't be a fuss f' her."

you would be nearly stunned if it weren't for a few pressing questions. what he'd said early hit you like a ton of bricks, and now it was full-on suspicion. "wait a minute, johnny. how did you know i had holiday time?"

it all seemed too much of a coincidence. and that's because, it wasn't.

for a man trained to endure the worst kinds of torture, he cracked under the pressure almost instantly.

"may have... done some digging in Cap's office. that's how i figured out your birthday." he figured it better to rip off the bandaid preemptively than have deflected now and have you throwing him out the airplane window.

you gasped slightly, "christ, is privacy illegal in this place? actually, that probably is illegal, MacTavish, i could have you—"

"—are ye goin' with me or not?" soap interrupted.

it wasn't like you said no. just like it wasn't the first time he'd mentioned you to his family. but that was a skeleton to uncover on another day, and hopefully not during the plane ride.

you outstretched a hand, "if you're paying? a deal is a deal."

"see? wasn't so hard. besides, i know i'm hard to deny." he ran an arrogant hand through his hair, instead of shaking your hand proper.

instead of complaining, you knew just how to press his buttons. "come to think of it, johnny." you tilted your head, reading to have the last laugh.

"you have any embarrassing juvenile stories? or better yet, does Nana have any baby pictures i might like to see?" you continued, watching his haughtiness fizzle instantly.

he took a few steps back, cheeks rosy, "you know what— in two hours that birthday of yours will be over, and you know what happens then? first dibs on my knuckles, soldier."

that tells you the answer was yes.

on second thought, this was going to be a very fun excursion.

˗ˏˋ divider cred. - cafekitsune ˎˊ˗

[kunikame]

in your system, even pluto is a planet. - i. mao

warnings : mostly mao centric, gender neutral, astral ref (my trademark trust), my formal apology to all maoPs for redamancy

w/c : 889

isara mao has always been second best.

it is how he spent most of his life, it is what he’s ultimately used to. he knows he would never be first– he knows he's not good enough to be first.

those are the facts, the truths he’s had to abide by since he was a child. no matter how hard he tried, there was always someone who was, simply put, better.

yet to accept a truth is easier than to stop hoping he could one day break the cycle.

he’s reminded of this once more as he watches his unit-mates work on their next choreography. as a friend first and unit-mate second, he will always be proud of them, will always support them and help make them shine if he can.

that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. 

watching them so easily become what he’s always wished he could be. isara mao is well aware he could never sparkle like they do.

as it turns out, he’s the only ‘trick’, whereas the other 3 are the ‘star’.

to accept it is slightly different than it is to continue fighting it.

and that’s where you come in.

while anzu may be their primary manager, she’s been kept busy by other units recently, so to keep trickstar functioning properly in her absence, you’ve been assigned to help them out instead.

mao wouldn’t exactly call it love at first sight (though makoto yuuki would beg to differ)– he simply has good intuition when it comes to people. he just knew you’re a good person, so he stuck close to you. that’s all.

all was well at first.

you helped them out wherever you could, gave them useful advice and even basically collaborated on the choreography. what caught mao off guard however, was that you tried your best to focus on all of them equally. you gave all of them the time of day when they needed it, without any reservations or excuses. if makoto had a question, you would answer it, and if mao needed help the moment after, you would immediately be by his side.

it was weird, to be treated like a voluntary choice.

then suddenly you no longer had time for mao. 

makoto, subaru, hokuto. subaru, makoto, hokuto. hokuto, makoto, subaru.

never mao.

and he doesn’t understand why. 

he doesn’t remember doing anything to upset you, so why?

have you simply realized he’s not good enough to be a choice?

sitting on a random staircase in yumenosaki, the redhead swirled his can of coke as he let out yet another helpless sigh.

he couldn’t even ask ritsu for help, he’d just fall asleep halfway through the story. perhaps it’s for the best if he doesn’t say anything at all. just suck it up and stick it out till the end, as always. deal with it.

for so long he’s associated himself with venus– with it being the second planet from the sun and all– he forgot to think that, maybe, he was just pluto all along.

with the final sigh of his short pity party, he threw the can in the nearest bin and made his way back to the studio. just a bit more practice and perhaps he’ll finally get closer to the others. 

the door opens before him and you’re standing there, eyes wide and mouth gaping, as if you’re seeing him for the first time (he probably doesn’t look much different though, he thinks).

“mao! i was just about to go look for you! the others have left already so i finally have time for you, i’m so sorry i’ve been pushing it off for so long, there was always just.. something. the lights broke and the–” you paused to let out a quick breath, shoulders relaxing for the first time this week, “you know what, whatever, doesn’t matter. i can finally take care of your concerns, so out with them!”

you step away from the doorway to let him in, but he just stands there dumbfounded.

“..mao?”

“... so you– you weren’t ignoring me? like, without reason?”

“what? no! i would never do that!” you looked genuinely distraught and now he feels bad for ever thinking so because yeah, you would never do that (or would you?), he’s just too used to people doing it (way too used, a voice in his head chuckles).

“oh,” he breathes, then steps into the studio.

“if it were up to me i would’ve dropped everything to cater to your needs, but the spotlight that was supposed to be on your position broke, so i made that my priority,” oh, “i’m sorry if i made you feel unimportant, i should’ve discussed it with you first..”

“n-no! no, no it’s fine. you’re fine. .. thank you. for-for doing that for me. and i’m sorry, too, i shouldn’t have assumed..”

you smile at him and he thinks not even the sun is worthy of you. 

it may be the center of the solar system, where pluto is not even a planet and where venus is second– but in the system isara mao sees you as the center of, perhaps he was mercury all along. if he is to crash and burn and suffer incineration in the long run, it may just be a worthy sacrifice.

at least he will no longer be second best.

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @ibaraluvr @venusflwers @thesapphirecake @yakshalea @mahouwoageru @kazemiya @menhwa-pdf @chalksdreams @gabirii @myunghology @solxima //ask/comment or fill form to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

[colourstreakgryffin]

I saw this image on Pinterest and it made me giggle a lot. May I request a Choso x Female Reader fluff oneshot based on this? Like after this awkward encounter choso attempts to talk to someone else which is reader who is actually really kind and is actually willing to make conversation with Choso making him feel human 😊

Oooh! Definitely! That’d be a amazing concept for our dear big brother Choso himself. He deserves so much love and affection so goddamn yes, I am going to write this. Love the idea, big credits to you! And sorry, this is also short and bad

Kamo Choso- One of the Same

Choso did not suspect this whatsoever… he didn’t suspect you to be so friendly, sociable and open-hearted. Almost everybody here are hardened and closed-off, that it’s almost tiresome. He cannot help but feel that you don’t belong within this team. You’re glowing with positivity and shining brighter than the sun, willing to talk to somebody like him whilst Kashimo, the first person Choso tried to communicate with, immediately ignored him and rightfully ignored him

Choso is so confused, even though he was the one who approached you, defeated and certain he’d get rejected again, as he listens to you talk to him and he answers after a bit of hesitation and timidity. He isn’t the best at social situations, clearly very socially-inept and whilst he wanted to know what friendship is like, outside of guarding and caring for his beloved little brother Yuji, he isn’t actually ready to handle such a extroverted, kind person like you. It doesn’t mean he will walk away now

He actually really appreciates how sweet you are, it’s a rarity to find a sugary gemstone within this dark cruel world

Choso… feels like a person when he talks to you. The way you smile genuinely, the way you respond excitably at his every small comment, the way you look at him like he isn’t a Cursed Object called a ‘Death Painting’. He feels likes you, that he isn’t a monster at all and that was has drawn him to you in such a small time

Choso went from just standing in the corner, only communicating with Yuji when he needed to, to full-blown talking to and nodding in response to you, the kind gentle member of this little Sorcery squad. Sitting down with you on a nice big rock whilst the group had been setting up camp outside during this whole Culling Games, Yuji feels immense pride for Choso, for his ‘older brother’ finally being able to branch out and find a new friend. It doesn’t help that Choso finds you very pretty

He could listen to you talk to him anytime and he is pretty glad he gathered back enough self-confidence to approach you on his own. He has his first ever non-family friend he wished he had made beforehand and he really likes this warm, fuzzy feeling you’re giving him as you keep hearing him out and boosting him up to speak more. He is still little and quiet whilst having this conversation, but he feels less isolated and alienated. He feels like he can say anything and be supported

In reality, you’ve always liked how cool and loving he is to his brothers so you’ve been wanting to talk to him seperately for a while now. You can see why Yuji has decided to ally with him, Choso is a wonderful person, even if he is a Cursed Object to his core. Yet, this Cursed Object really likes the pretty sorcerer listening to him and flashing that gorgeous smile on her pretty face

“Well… do you have any siblings, Dokusha?”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA FOR KISSING MY ROOMMATE GOODNIGHT?

(everyone is in their 20s. names are fake)

I’d like to start off by giving background, I(M) live with my roommate Salt. We’ve been living together for a couple of years now and met through mutual friends.

I’m straight. Salt is gay in a very open, stereotypical sense(yk flamboyant, effeminate etc) and I’m not saying this to judge him/say I resent him or something he’s a dear friend of mine and I couldn’t care less abt his sexuality or how he chooses to express himself. However it’s important to mention this for the sake of AITA

The actual ‘issue’ started a year ago, where we were both drunk coming home from a party, I was struggling to get my keys out so he called me a idiot and then just.. kissed me??

That caused me to question my sexuality for a while because being a straight man you’d think I’d be repulsed or bothered by it but no I didn’t really enjoy it(not like there was smth to enjoy it was like a couple of seconds) but didn’t really mind it either in fact it didn’t made me feel any different than how I’d feel kissing a random girl I suppose?

So yeah I experimented with my sexuality for a week or so and even almost hooked up with some guy but nope. Still straight. Just didn’t mind him(probably because of how close we are)

Anyways back to the point after that Salt avoided me for a while but in the end we did have a talk which was basically him saying he was not attracted to me, how it was a spur of the moment thing and also apologizing if he made me uncomfortable.

To that I told him he did not and joked about how he could do it again.

Fast forward a month(?) later the “kissing the homies goodnight” meme came out, so one time I asked him where was my goodnight kiss was at and he actually did it, after that we just continued doing that ig I don’t think none of us thought much of it other than some night time ritual.

Here comes the actual AITA part, I recently got a girlfriend(we’ll call her Pepper). I’ts not like I’m super in love with her but she’s a nice girl and I genuinely like her so I wish to keep her happy.

The issue with Pepper is that she talks a tad bit too much, I normally wouldn’t mind it as I’m on the quiet part, but she expects me to memorize everything she has told me(not in the “do you remember my friend” type of way in the she tells me about 10 different people and gets upset when I don’t remember their exes names or what did friend7 did on lunch a month ago type of way) she also has a tendency to hyperfixate on shows and talk about the plot & characters as if they’re actual real people which makes it hard for me to understand if something she says is about a show or real. She gets really upset if I forget even the smallest things about those stories and rants about how I never listen to her. I tried talking to her about this but it only ends with her crying so I just keep shut to keep her satisfied

A week ago I was having a really bad day of migraines and nothing seemed to help but me and Pepper had made plans to hang in my place and I didn’t want to cancel. She comes over and starts talking about her sister in life’s brunch. I ask her if she could slow down a bit cause my head hurts and I can’t really keep up.

Well she takes it the wrong way and starts yelling at me about how I always am like this and how I never listen to her. I admit I’m the asshole for saying this, but I ask her if she’s unable to sit down and have a conversation like an adult. This makes her calm down a bit and she sits down so we can discuss.

I try explaining to her how it’s unfair how she expects me to remember everything and I’d be more than happy to listen to her, maybe just slow down a bit?

In mid of it she has this weird smile on her face and tells me I look hot mad, she then leans over to kiss me which I pull away from because it feels like she’s just trying to change a topic and I think this is an important convo for our relationship.

This is the moment Salt decides to arrive at home(I should also mention he’s TERRIBLE at reading the room) he comes over gives me my goodnight kiss and leaves.

(I would like to add its not like we make out or something. He just gives me a peck on the lips, says goodnight and leaves)

This drives Pepper crazy. She starts shouting at me on how I’d not kiss her but him? And that I could go ride his dick if I’m that gay for him. She storms out of the apartment

I’d like to add that Pepper has never said anything about me and Salt. I never told her about the goodnight kiss(Because I mean who goes to their girlfriend like “hey btw I kiss my roommate at nights. but no homo”?) but we never hide it either in fact I’m pretty sure we did that while she was in room once or twice too. Pepper has made jokes about us being gay and how she feels bad about getting inbetween us but never anything on being uncomfortable or not liking it.

Now it’s been a week and we haven’t talked since. She is not answering my messages and I stopped trying to contact her from there but I’m starting to doubt myself, am I the asshole here? Should I go apologize?

What are these acronyms?

[unhappy-last-resort]

There's Barnyard Grass Growing in Your Garden

Warnings: yandere themes

A/N: ...

Not edited and the title is inspired by his valentines story.

You trusted him, that's why you didn't mind how physically close you were to each other. Why you didn't mind him partially laying on you, gently petting your cheek with the back of his finger.

You trusted him, so you didn't care that your pajamas were a little thin and that your door was locked. You weren't uncomfortable that you're alone together in the dead of night, conversations carried by little whispers and occasional giggles.

You trusted him, so you ignored the odd glint in his eye that would appear from time to time. You didn't find it strange that his attention was always solely on you when you're together, you thought it was sweet and endearing.

He's genuine, pure, sweet, and gentle. That's how you saw him, how you always saw him. You were determined to give your all to help him achieve his dreams, especially for all the ways he's been an incredible friend to you. Sometimes, you wonder if you really deserve to have someone like him as a friend. It made you wish he would lean on you more, but he would always brush you off with an awkward, yet gentle smile and softly spoken words of assurance that he's alright.

Since he wouldn't open up to you more yet, you opted instead to make sure time was always made available for him, no matter what. That's how you got here, laying on your bed with his wrist tracker that was disabled long ago sitting on your nightstand, partially caged in his arms as part of his torso rested on yours while making sure not to crush your delicate body.

His nose gently pressed into the skin of your neck, breathing you in as his arms wrapped around you tightly, like you might disappear if he doesn't hold you close. Lazily, you return the gesture, wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him into your embrace.

You two stayed like that for a while in silence, nothing but your breathing and his to fill the air around you.

"You don't know how much I missed you..." He muttered into your skin before placing a kiss on the side of your neck so light that you didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I missed your voice, your giggles, your expressions...the world feels a little more dull when you're not around." He whispers, pulling himself away from your neck so he could see your face more clearly. He would do anything for you, anything to keep you safe and happy. If he was saying this a few months ago, he might've been embarrassed. Too paranoid of rocking the boat and shattering his relationship with you, but now? He couldn't care less. He would stay by your side no matter what. Even if you push him away, it's okay, because he'll always look after you and he'll always be there to pick you up when you fall. He came to this conclusion after many nights and days going back and forth with himself if he's allowed to feel this way towards someone, if it's wrong to care about someone like this.

Your squirming brings him back to reality, a bashful smile on your lips. "Noan, it's embarrassing when you say things like that..." You mumble, fiddling with the collar of your pajama shirt as a distraction for yourself.

Cute. You were so cute sometimes, it made him want to hold you tightly and keep you somewhere safe. He won't let himself do that though, even though the world may not deserve you, you don't deserve to be deprived of it.

"It's the truth. You have a greater impact on others than you realize." He smiles softly and lightly pokes your nose with his finger, eliciting little bubbles of embarrassed giggles from you. Each one burning themselves into his M.I.N.D.

Sometimes, he wishes he was still human, but being a construct allowed him to be able to see things that he would've missed as a human, and now he can truly fight to protect what he loves even if he's not the best at it. Honestly, if it wasn't for you...he's not sure he could bear the scrutiny he's placed under at every waking moment.

He tries to be grateful, to be patient, he really does...but it's hard not to be bitter about it sometimes. If he was truly alone in this, he may not have given up, but he would certainly be more jaded. However, he's not alone anymore.

He has you. He has your voice in his heart and your warmth seeping into his skin. You're here, relaxed in his arms, talking freely and showing him things you never show anyone else, not even your own squad members sometimes. He's grateful for that, and he'll always cherish these moments.

Even though you are, admittedly, very naive. You don't seem to think about how your trust in him might backfire, about how he might be able to use what he knows about you to his advantage. He knows that if you were to find out how he feels about you, if you saw what the sketchbook you gave him has become, you would most likely run away. Perhaps even be afraid of him, the thought makes him want to shudder, but he suppresses it, not wanting to interrupt your rambling about some argument Asimov and Celica had about healthy caffeine intake.

He takes a breath and pushes his thoughts aside. Right now, the most important thing is enjoying you and your company. He'll make sure you don't find out anything about himself that might upset you.

As you recount recent events to him, you don't seem to notice his hold on you being a little tighter, or mind the borderline obsessive glint in his amber eyes as he rests his chin on your chest.

Right. He smiles. What you don't know won't hurt you.

[peaches2217]

Peach is crying again.

The panic that might normally strike Mario at such a sight is nowhere to be found, because this has been happening a lot lately; she gets misty-eyed over just about anything, a stark contrast to her usual fortitude in the face of great emotion. She's craving cake but realizes she'll have to wait for it to bake before she can actually eat it? Tears. Toadette brings her some tea just as she notices her throat's feeling dry? Tears. Mario uses her name alone instead of one of the plethora of endearments he normally assigns to her? Tears.

This is perfectly normal, Toadessa has assured them both. Her hormones will begin restabilizing as she approaches her second trimester, and until then, Mario has no reason to worry if she's suddenly weepier than usual.

That doesn't mean he likes it, and it certainly doesn't mean he'll just sit back and let it happen. If Peach is going to be inconsolable over every little thing, then she's going to be inconsolable while he attempts to console her anyway.

Right now she's leaned back in her chair in the royal office, making a half-hearted effort to compose herself, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that looks like it's already seen a fair amount of use today. "Mario," she starts, and he already knows she's about to apologize. He doesn't give her the opportunity.

"Hey," he says, crossing the room with wide steps and reaching his hands out to her, "what's wrong? It's alright. Tell me what's wrong."

She adjusts herself so that she's facing him just as he reaches her, and he cups her right cheek in his left palm to look her over. Her face is blotchy and wet, yet her makeup is untouched. He's not sure if it's her magic keeping her cosmetics pristine or if she's just begun using waterproof mascara and eyeliner. Maybe some combination of the two.

Sniffling again, Peach leans into his touch and closes her eyes. "It's so silly," she sighs. "Please don't... y-you would laugh. Don't worry about it."

Mario debates pulling away to take his gloves off, offer her the comfort of his skin against hers, but she looks so relieved to be on the receiving end of his touch that he can't bring himself to do it. He summons his Firebrand into that hand in compensation, so at least he can offer her warmth.

“No.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear with his free hand, his voice as soothing and sweet as he can possibly muster. “Tesoro mio, no, your pain is my pain. I would never laugh at you."

Sniffle. Peach opens her eyes to fix him with a grateful smile, and more tears slip out as she does so. He wishes now more than ever that his leather gloves were made of a more absorbent material. "I..." Another deep sigh. "I started thinking, and then I couldn't stop thinking... and I wondered if you would..."

"Yes," Mario encourages, and now he takes both of her hands into his right hand, squeezing gently. "It's okay. You can tell me."

Sorrow washes over her expression, and Mario steadies himself with a deep breath. He hates seeing her like this. He wants to take all of her pain, all of her sorrow, put it in a bottle and put that bottle into a safe and send it sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

"Would you..." With a shuddering inhale, Peach finally presents her question: "Would you still love me if I were a Wiggler?"

Silence overtakes the room. Mario's so hopelessly baffled that he can't even begin to figure out how he's supposed to feel right now, much less respond.

"...Oh." Fresh tears well up, falling with renewed vigor, and that's enough to snap him out of his stupor.

"No no no," he quickly shushes, wiping what tears he can with his thumb, "I'm sorry! You just— I mean, I wasn't expecting that, but yes, I would still love you!"

“But what if I didn’t recognize you?” And now Peach sounds genuinely distraught, her voice breaking every third or fourth word. “What if I saw you and you tried to speak to me but all I could think about was munching on the tasty shrubbery you were standing next to?"

She's full-on weeping now, and as much as he hates the sight, it's taking all of Mario's willpower not to start laughing. Of all the hypothetical scenarios she might have imagined up wherein he might feel anything but overpowering love for her...

"Peach," he says, and he kisses her soaked cheek, "mia dolce principessa, l'amore della mia vita, that would change nothing! I'll love you to the very end no matter what."

The affirmation combined with the gratuitous usage of endearments wretches a sob from Peach's lips, and she frees her hands from Mario's grasp to pull him into an embrace, taking advantage of the more absorbent fabric of his shirt. He lets her cry, slipping his gloves off and stuffing them in his back pocket before returning her embrace.

"I'd love you too," Peach chokes out, her nails digging into the thick denim of his overalls. "If you were a Wiggler, I'd still love you just as much!"

Mario finally lets himself laugh, carding his fingers through her hair. "I know. I know you would."

~~~

That night, reclined on the couch with her head in Mario's lap, Peach cries for an entirely different reason.

"Why did you play along?" she groans, her voice pitched in embarrassment. "You should have been honest with me!"

"I was honest with you," he reasons.

"No you weren't! You didn't once tell me how stupid I sounded!"

"No," Mario corrects, "I told you nothing but the truth, amata. I would still love you if you were a Wiggler."

Peach buries her face in her hands and groans again, and Mario wipes at the tears that escape anyway with a tissue, shushing her softly.

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Anatomy

Pairing: Olivia Benson x Daughter!reader

Warning: Angst, emotional neglect, bad mom Olivia for a moment, hints of being a young mum, unedited, self hate almost, mommy issues, let me know if I left anything out

You excitedly ran to the door as you heard the jingle of your mother’s keys, your latest artwork held tightly in your hand her dinner in the microwave. Your mother steps into view just as you open your mouth to speak she raised her hand “I’m tired it’s been a long day, I have a migraine and I don’t want to hear it” you nodded with a swallow.

“Dinner’s in the microwave” you whispered placing your artwork on the counter as you walked to your bedroom passing Noahs ignoring the burning jealousy. Olivia shook her head “she’s always got to be so dramatic” she groaned entering the kitchen, you were sixteen she couldn’t understand why you always acted the way you did.

The rare day Olivia had off was the day that really changed your relationship, you laid on your mother’s big bed ruffling the sheets slightly as you giggled trying to talk to her. “Get off Y/n. I just made the bed, you’re too old to be acting like a child” Olivia scolded so I rolled around more pulling at all the edges she grabbed me by the arm. Kicking me off the bed to remake it with an eye roll like I was never there, ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away so I left passing Noah on my way.

I could hear them laughing from my bedroom the loud squeaking of my mother’s bed as they jumped on it how strange it was to think as I messaged Eliot to pull me out. I hated to be Olivia’s daughter if only I could’ve been Noah someone she chose- she was stuck with me, I was half of her simply anatomy.

I waited by the door patiently for his message, convincing myself she was just struggling that she was a mother too young or too soon, I was a burden she couldn’t afford. I wanted to explore her mind know what she was thinking when the doctor placed me delicately in her arms, hear what alarms blasted in her head.

“Hey mom, I got you these I thought-“ I was cut off “you didn’t tell me you were leaving” I sighed walking further into her bedroom “I didn’t think you would care”. Olivia laughed thought it wasn’t genuine “no but I noticed, you’re too emotional anytime something doesn’t go your way you run off”.

“I just wish you understood mom” I placed the bag on her bed leaving once more “this is what I’m talking about Y/n” she followed me into my room. She paused at the doorway looking around as I curled up by the windowsill “has this always been here?” Her fingers grazing a portrait “It’s old”.

I watched her through the glass as she takes the room in “I haven’t been in here for so long” she whispered to herself “you’re always too busy for me” I shrugged with a scoff. “That is not true” she argued “you’re right, you just make sure to spend every second with Noah instead” her face dropped. “Y/n I am your mother” Olivia began to scold “you have a funny way of showing it mom” I sighed with a humourless laugh.

“I love you but I struggle to believe you love me too” I stared out the window to avoid meeting her gaze though I still saw her reflection. She sat on the bed with a sigh “I understand you didn’t get to choose me but you had options” I whispered pulling my knees to my chest.

“But I did choose you Y/n” she glanced up at the ceiling “I just struggle to always choose you because I like to believe you don’t need me, you’re so mature and headstrong I forget you’re only young”. She breathed in loudly as I tore my gaze away from the glass “you’re so much like me it’s scary sometimes Y/n and I’m scared- I always have been that I would ruin you if I stayed too close baby”.

“I work everyday to protect girls your age, connect them with their own mothers while I neglect you convincing myself you understand. I’m so proud of you baby girl and I know I don’t show it enough, I never wished to make you feel anything less than important to me”

“Every part of you is me, I am so lucky to have a daughter like you Y/n. To watch you grow into this incredible young woman and know you’ve done it on your own? I’m both extremely proud and saddened.” I couldn’t help but stare at her as the tears welled in my eyes “You are the best thing that could’ve happened to me, I was young but you gave me reason honey you saved me from self destruction. The hours of torture I inflicted, now you’re all grown I’ve ruined it like I knew I would and you don’t need me anymore” I flung myself into her as I cried.

“I’ll always need you mom”

[xlunacloudiax]

Heart of two friends.

Description: Juan invites Y/n to his apartment to help her overcome artistblock. A special bond forming between the two friends finally blossoms into something more as they realise their feelings for each other.

About 6k words. Took me SO LONG to edit, and even longer to find courage to post. Please enjoy a slow but deep romance with Juan Ruiz. 🫶🏻

~~~

" So I was thinking... Maybe we could- " The door to Juan's apartment swings open and Y/n wanders in. Her thoughts are immediately replaced with surprise admiration. " Woah, nice place. I've already enough inspiration just by walking in here. "

Juan enters shortly after her and closes the door, silently locking it behind his back. He watches her soft hair lightly bounce across her back as she smiles contently at the room before her. Finally, he's got her alone with him. He's relieved he can spend some time with her after a busy week with Dr. Burke and the others, but he feels a pang of nervousness.

It's just them two. All alone. In his apartment.

" Yeah, it's okay I guess... Sorry I forgot to clean up the uh- " Juan apologizes. Perhaps he's just shy? He doesn't want to dissappointment Y/n in anyway.

" No it's fine, really. It's neater than my place in the mornings. " Y/n flashes a genuine smile that comforts Juan from his embarrassment. The bubbly nervous feeling in his stomach, which he only recently noticed, eases a bit. " Did you know that a person's emotions are first felt in gut before the brain registers it? " Y/n adds as if she could read his mind, it lightens the awkward mood a little.

Juan shakes his head and chuckles. He drops the keys into their usual spot and follows Y/n at a safe distance. " That's so random, but I didn't know that. "

For some odd reason he always feels calmer around her, so much that he worries little about the chupacabra's sudden appearances. The urge to transform seems almost completely surpressed and instead replaced by the frequent urge to be closer to Y/n.

The only present worry lurking in the back of his mind is Darcey. How will she react after hearing about Y/n's arrival at his apartment? Even if they're no longer dating for months now, she can sometimes be... obsessive with his personal life and friendships. He has to be careful around her. He doesn't want to make her feel any more insecure, but he still wishes she were less suspicious about him nowadays. Even after what happened between them, Juan still sees her as a friend.

" Hey, where's Darcey by the way? Isn't she here today? " Y/n's sudden questions break through his contemplation and he shakes his head. He was dreading those words.

" She's probably out with her friends. I don't know. " Juan chooses his words wisely. He doesn't want to think about Darcey right now. His mind flashes back to his last meeting with her, and the argument they had. He really wishes to forget about it. They've both decided to move on and it seems better that way. " We're not living together anymore. "

An awkward silence descends upon the room and Juan bites his lip, wondering whether he said too much or not enough. It's been half a year since he broke up with Darcey, but he never really talks about it. Y/n lightly pats his shoulder and the sudden touch sends electricity throughout his body. " Sorry. I didn't know she moved out. "

" No, no it's alright. That was more than a few months ago anyway. Things are better this way. "

" So it's just us then? " The words slip off Y/n's tongue and it makes Juan's heart skip a beat. His previous concerns are immediately erased. Odd, he shouldn't be feeling this way ... He hasn't known her for very long, yet it feels like it was meant to last a lifetime. His attraction towards Y/n is nothing new, but still seems ethereal. He's felt it resonate in his bones since the moment he approached her. An eager yearning to get to know her. Their fondness has grown throughout the past 2 months, and the feelings have become more familiar to handle with time. Yet they remain unbeknownst to Y/n.

Is it wrong to feel strongly towards a friend? It's not like this is a movie or anything.

" Yeah. Just us. " Juan releases a shaky breathe and shows her to his study. Y/n follows closely behind and he stops to allow her entry first.

Y/n walks around and observes the room. The surface of his desk was neatly scattered with sketches and portraits seated placidly on stands. A mirror and a large collection of expensive pencils and pens arranged in a holder next to a pile of drawings. A few shelves with books stood bythe side of the room. It had a comfortable lofty style showcasing all of Juan's sketch ideas, some finished and others work in progress. " Oh, this is lovely. It's like your inspiration domain. " Juan stands behind her in the doorway with a shy smile. " So is where you get all your great big ideas onto paper. Really nice. "

" Yes. " Juan agrees with a small hint of pride. " I'll be right back. " Dissapears into the main room for a brief moment. Y/n gazes thoughtfully and meticulously at each artwork, admiring the unique details that depict the artist's hard work, all the while thinking of how talented Juan is. He's worked hard to reach his success, and not many people recognise it enough. All the hours he's spent writing, planning, drawing, and all the hundreds of hours of practice. This room is a special place for him. A big black sketch book on the desk catches Y/n's attention. It lays closed, concealing whatever is inside it like a secret, taunting her. Something whispers in Y/n's mind to open it. _Surely this not invading his space, right?_ Her hand reaches out on its own, her curiousity too strong to resist.

She flips through a few pages, briefly examining the immaculate drawings of hands and eyes and different face shapes. Until she comes across a particular page that peaks her interest. A familiar face jumps out at her, the curves and tones so perfected it stands apart from the paper. Y/n stares at the drawing as it feels like it is staring back. Her heart squeezes in her chest and fills with an unfamiliar warmth once she recognises who it is.

It was a drawing of her.

Y/n feels tears prick the corners of her eyes as she considers ever line and little detail added to the small portrait. Nobody has ever cared to notice such detail about her before, let alone take the time to make an artwork of her. For the first time, as she gazes at the beautiful artwork made by Juan's hands, she realises just how deeply the emotions behind such an act could mean. And her heart is touched with an underlying hope.

Juan returns carrying a dining chair with ease, and places it down next to the desk chair. " Sorry, no autographs." He jokes and Y/n quickly turns the book cover with a small chuckle to swallow her sudden tears. She watches him intently, dark brunette curly strands of his hair fall infront of his eyes and spring up as he stands again with a sigh. " This is now your workstation. " He gently guides her to sit on the desk chair, curling his hands on her upper arms. The warm feeling of his touch lingers longer than it probably should, but it's quick to lift as soon as she sits down. The brief contat leaves a tingling spot on the skin underneath her sleeve.

Juan seats himself beside her on the dining chair.

" Oh- isn't this your chair? "

Juan smirks and leans forward closer to her face, his gaze meets hers, his shyness melting away. " The best way to learn from a teacher is to view the lesson through their eyes. " He shifts closer and extends his arm to grasp another large leather book on the desk, this time a navy blue cover. He opens it to reveal an album of portrait sketches in various perspectives, similar to the one Y/n had peaked into a few moments ago.

Juan carefully watches her face and smiles at her reaction to his work as they page through the book. Each unexpected compliment and question makes his heart flutter. " So, what's your technique? " Y/n finally asks and tears her eyes away from the portrait to gaze at him curiously. Juan feels warmth radiate inside him at her soft expression towards him, he almost doesn't hear her question clearly. " Can you show me? " It's like he has an apprentice. A very pretty apprentice.

" Alright. " He leans back to grab a specific pencil from his stationary shelf and sits closer to Y/n to demonstrate. She watches his movements attentively throughout the lesson, but barely asorbs the explanation. The sturdiness of his wrist as the pencil presses a line to a blank section of the page makes her knees feel weak for some reason. The veins lightly tracing his hands as he holds the slim object in a skilful manner. The strength shifting in his grip when he flicks his wrist in different directions. A few moments later, Juan pauses and swings the pencil towards Y/n's hand, resting it between her fingers the way he previously held it. " Is this comfortable for you? "

She focuses on the intense warmth of his hand gently placed on hers. Her mind almost short-circuits for a second. She nods. " Okay. " He whispers and slides closer, carefully stretching his arm around her shoulders and holding onto her hand with the other. She can feel his warm breath on the side of her face as he further explains the lesson, and the tickle of his curls against her forehead. Her heartrate beats like a drum as his firm hand steadily guides her smaller one across the page. His instructions are clear and concise. A faint musky scent enthralls her senses and her mind feels fuzzy. They are so close to each other now, faces merely inches apart. Y/n is barely able to keep focus, but she manages to capture the just of everything.

After completion, the intensifying warmth retreats along with Juan's hand. Y/n stares at her work feeling pleased.

" That went by like a breeze. "

Juan smirks playfully at her. " You're a faster learner that I thought. "

Y/n gasps decides to play along. " What's that supposed to mean? Your technique is easier than I thought. "

This time Juan gasps and places a hand over his heart. " I am offended. " He jokes and it earns a chuckle from Y/n. What a beautiful sound, he thinks to himself with a smile.

Juan abruptly stands up and heads for the main room. " You hungry? " He asks halfway to the kitchen. Y/n spins in the chair and watches him through the doorway.

" I guess so. What've you got? "

Juan, rummaging through the kitchen cupboard, pauses and looks up to face her. " Have you ever triednachos? "

Y/n in return snickers." Tried? I grew up with nachos. Though not the kind you're probably thinking of. "

" Oh? What kind then? " Juan frowns slightly in confusion but keeps his smile plastered on his lips. He wonders why he can't stop smiling around her? Juan picks up his desired ingredients alongside the chips on a tray. He places them on the kitchen island and quickly prepares the sauce. A moment later Y/n approaches and seats herself on a barstool in front of him. " Different chips? "

" Yes, a little unusual but very tasty. My mother's recipe. " She snatches a single chip from the preparation tray and crunches it. Juan props himself on his elbows and observes her thoughtfully as she explains the process of how her family used to make it.

" Interesting. I never thought you could use that. " Juan takes a chip, his gaze remaining attentive on her movements. She nods, bashfully, feeling his intense gaze. " But you know, the best part of the flavour is in the beans. " Suddenly an idea hits him, and he turns to fetch another topping. He returns with a little bowl of what appears to be sour cream, and places on the tray. The conversation continues. It is nice to finally have someone to talk to. Juan's normally used to being alone or being interrupted, but not with Y/n. " Did she add any spices? "

" Hm. Yes, and sometimes even nutritional yeast. But that tasted more like cheese. " Y/n replies with a glint of nostalgia in her eyes. " Actually, I remember the first time she she added sweet chilies. It was so good, it became one of our favourites. " She bites a chip covered in sour cream and is pleasantly surprised by the familiar spicy toppings. Juan, who's eyes have been carefully observing her facial expressions, gives a pleased smile upon noticing her delight.

" I thought you'd like this. You briefly mentioned it a few weeks ago. "

Y/n smiles appreciatively at the thought of his attentiveness. " You remembered that? "

" Of course. I pay attention to everything you say. " Juan takes a final chip before stepping around the counter. " That's how a spy works, isn't it? " Juan jokingly adds and takes the seat next to her.

" Oh, so you're a spy now? Ironic. I thought I was the only one. " Y/n decides to play along, speaking in a proud accent.

" Mmh, now that's a problem. Two spies spying on each other with a plate of nachos? "

Y/n chuckles at his statement. " And what's all the information you've collected so far? " Juan squints his eyes at her with a smirk, he leans forward until she can feel his warm breathe hit her face.

" Do you really want to know? "

She blinks innocently and smiles, daring to lean forward as well and resting her chin on her palm. The tension gradually building in the air between them. " I don't know. Is it confidential? " A deep hum resonates from Juan's chest and stands up again.

" Well, If I told you then ... there would be some consequences. " He opens the fridge and takes out two cans of some soft drink to show her. " Have you ever tried this? "

" No. You're giving me a lot of new things lately. " Including these feelings.

Juan passes the drink over the counter and their hands touch for a moment. It's like electricity flowing through the simple contact, a subtle but evident connection completing a circuit. There's a tug inside Juan's heart, like he wants to hold on to her. What is wrong with him, he wonders.

That's when he notices the thin, fresh, red lines draping across the tips of her delicate skin.

" Hey, what happened to your hand? " Juan asks concern in his voice. Y/n pauses and looks confused in response before realisation clicked in her mind.

" Oh. This? It's just cat scratches. " She giggles sweetly at the memory.

The internal tug in Juan's heart becomes nearly unbearable. His heartrate speeds up as temptation settles in for the simple desire. Maybe this will be okay? Unsure of the strange feelings developing inside of him, Juan takes ahold of Y/n's hand. His warm muscular fingers gently press along the peculiar lines. Y/n nearly flinches in surprise, her breath hitched in her throat as her heart skipped a beat. Her mind is overwhelms itself like a highway of thoughts as he continues to gently rub and trace the scars.

" I didn't know you had a cat? " He says in a soft tone, slightly deeper than before.

" Oh, well it's not exactly my cat... " Y/n begins to scramble her thoughts together. Juan listens attentively. " It's a stray. Her original owner was one of my neighbours, but the lady recently had an accident and has to live in a wheelchair for a while. I offered to take care of the cat until she recovers. She was very grateful for that... "

" Aw, that's sweet of you. "

Her eyes follow the movement of his fingers. Y/n notices the great difference in temperature between the both of them.

Of course, her mouth speaks before her mind. " You're so hot... "

" W- What? "

Heat instantly rises to Y/n's cheeks in realisation of her own words and she's overwhelmed by embarrassment. " Oh no- I mean, temperature-wise. " What is wrong with me? Y/n cringes at herself for the misunderstanding.

" Oh.. " Juan chuckles, understanding it was meant differently. His eyes flicker to hers and the obvious blush dusting her cheeks. What a pretty colour on her, I wonder what else will make her blush... Juan wonders why he is thinking this all of a sudden? But instead he continues to rub her hands, focusing on the fading cat scratches as a distraction. He can't deny it, he just wants to feel her skin for as long as possible.

Unfortunately their time spent together is cut short. " I have to go. It's getting late. Thank you for inviting me over. " Y/n's soft voice interrupts and Juan slowly feels a pang of panic arise as she retracts her hands and stands up.

" Wait! Before you go... " Juan calls after her fleeting form and he calms a bit when she stops and turns to him. She needs to stay longer. I can't let her go. Please not yet. I don't want that feeling to return... He clenches his fists and gathers whatever excuse be can think of to keep her there. His mouth gapes like a fish but words don't cooperate. So instead he settles for the next best idea.

Juan dissapears into the study for a moment, and returns with another magazine-sized book. He holds it out to Y/n. She takes it from his hands with slight interest. Juan switches on the hanging lights above the counter to assist her eyesight, ones that Y/n notes are quite stylish.

" What's this? " She asks curiously.

Y/n opens the book and reads the first page, only to notice it contains inked pictures. Her eyes widen in realisation and Juan smiles as he watches her excitement grow. " Oh my goodness... " Y/n flips to the next page. " This is one of your comics! But it's brand new? " Her fingers glide over the intricate black lines. She looks up at him with uncertainty.

" It's all yours. "

" Are you serious?! " Y/n's eyes light up and she hugs him. Juan feels an odd warmth grow inside him at her reaction and he encircles his arms around her. Her body fit right into his arms, almost perfectly like a puzzle. Like it was meant to be. Suddenly the air feels thicker again.

" I thought it'd be better if you had more examples to learn from, you know? "

" No ways... Thank you so much. " As she thanks him , he takes the time to relish in her scent.

That flips a switch.

A deep urge inside him silently begs not to let her go. Make her somehow stay in his arms. But he has no choice. He forces himself to detach from her dainty frame as she steps away. His chest aches inside as he attempts to ignore the desperate cries for her touch. It was almost so torturing that his hands began to shake under his balled fists.

" You're so talented, you know? I wish my stories could be visualised. But I don't have the time. "

There it is. Another compliment gracefully falls from her lips. Juan's chest overflows with the familiar warmth, one that often infiltrates his heart whenever Y/n is close by, he realises. It's a newly uncovered feeling that he hasn't even felt towards anyone before.

Perhaps she is a really special friend? He used to think, but now, he's not so sure anymore. Now, all he knows is that he needs to bring Y/n closer.

" Don't worry. I know you will some day. You just have to keep motivating yourself. Your story is good. It's you. That's what makes it so special... " Juan's eyes travel down from her glossy eyes, to her pouting pink lips, her revealing neck, and then to her arms. He has a strong urge to comfort her physically to, but he's afraid of making her uncomfortable, so instead he reassures her with his words. His opportunity to hug her has already passed. It's like a lump of stone sitting in the back of his throat, he struggles to gulp it down as his mind threatens to lose her if he doesn't do something more.

Y/n stares at him, feeling encouraged by his honest words. She smiles sweetly. " Thanks Juan. "

His eyes couldn't help but stare at her graceful figure, and the unique features of her face. Her beautiful hair that shines soft like silk in the lighting above. Her avoiding eyes hooded with naturally long lashes. They are the windows to her emotions, but can't express just how beautiful she is on the inside. He thought to himself. If only he could tell her... He could write an entire book about her and call it 'Y/n's heart of gold, Juan's heart of her'. He doesn't care how cheesy that might sound, that's how he feels around her.

Again he feels an inner tug, pulling him forward as a need to be closer to her. His increase in heartrate, beating like a drum against his ribcage. Is it the Chupacabra wanting to come out? He worries, but can't suppress the temptation to caress her cheek. It's like a different side of him is threatening to overtake. A build up of emotion about to spill like a cup filling with water till it reaches the brim.

That's it. He gave in.

As Y/n turns towards the door, Juan's arms reach out and prevent her from exiting. Her hand that lands on the doorknob is captured by a firm grip, and her fingers are laced with the man's strong ones. Juan's other hand raises itself to gently cup her cheek. She looks confusedly at him as a blush creeps onto her skin under the touch of his warmth. His face inches closer to her own, his dazed eyes boring into her with an intense gaze of longing. Y/n is left utterly speechless, except for the few words that managed to escape her lips.

" Juan? What are you doing? "

Juan remians silent, in thought. He stares endearingly at her. His eyes are almost glossy as he slides a strand of hair out of her face. Now he can see her beautiful eyes more clearly He doesn't understand why he is so enthralled by her, but maybe it was just her? Maybe it doesn't matter either. Words of apology linger on the tip of his tongue and after a while he doesn't hold some of them back. " I'm sorry, I can't... resist you... "

The eager longing inside of him overrides his senses and he pulls her towards him. His lips attack her soft ones and he unintentionally roughly shoves her against the dark wooden door. It was so sweet, so comforting, so right. His body moulds into hers as the satisfaction of his craving is met. His craving for her touch. Her comfort. Her understanding despite not yet knowing the truth about his alter ego.

How he stalked her that one night in his Chupacabra form just to be sure she arrived home safe. How he stopped that guy at the restaurant that tried to hurt her. How he was the one who defended her that night Dr. Burke's house was attacked. How he cared so much for her and admired her kindness and empathy for the people around her, despite not being able to express herself well. How he yearns for her to feel the same towards him. She was so pure in his eyes. Like an angel he thought he never deserved to meet. Oh, how he wishes he could tell her all this. How he truly feels about her.

The kiss doesn't stop. All the deepest unspoken emotions between the two flood into the each other like a dam wall bursting into a tumbling waterfall. It is passionate, other people would say, but in the hearts of the two it means much more than anyone can fathom.

In Y/n's mind, she knows this is dangerous. Being alone with a guy so dear and allowing him to kiss her? Logically, it was just a recipe of risks. She felt so uncertain, yet her heart felt so at home. But Juan wasn't just any guy, and this wasn't just a kiss. This is the one her heart has long yearned for to find, at last encased by his loving arms. Two fates destined to be entangled. The person she has prayed to meet since she was first able to grasp the meaning of love. The warmth of his lips traverse her her jawline, a sensation her body has long been seeking in her subconscious. She doesn't know why she isn't feeling threatened. Normally a slight touch attempted by a man would make her skin crawl in disgust or uncomfortability. Perhaps this is just the right man touching her, and her body knows it. Feel down, she knows this feels right somehow.

But her morals kick in and hesitation rises in the middle of the sweet sensation. She still needs to be careful not to let it go too far, no matter how good it feels.

She places her free hand that isn't holding the comic book firmly on Juan's chest, lightly pushing him away. Unfortunately he is just too strong for her and keeps in place. The longer she stands cornered by him the more temptation eases its way to give in.

No. She recollects her stance. I can't stay... It's too risky. What if he doesn't feel the same way?

Juan, sensing her hesitation stops and whispers words of reassurance as he leans into her neck. " Hey, are you okay...? I won't do anything you don't want me to. " For a moment she is comforted but her worry remains and battles with the intense feeling of bliss and the relaxation of her muscles in his hold. Her silence makes Juan retreat a little and scan her face for any sign of discomfort. Fearing that he's crossed a line. " I'm sorry... Please, just stay a little longer. We don't have to- " Y/n's voice is choked by uncertainty, but she shakes her head.

She can feel his warm breath lingering over her neck as he waits patiently for her answer, his lean muscular arms holding her dainty ones and she notices one of his thumbs rubbing along the top of her hand in a comforting manner. Their position against the door in such close proximity, the heat radiating off his body envelopes her like a blanket. Realising the strength he has over her in this moment is frightening, yet he remains gentle with her. Even asking consent to continue kissing her. " Will it be okay if I stay? " It's almost impossible to resist. Temptation is right at her doorstep and perhaps that isn't such a bad thing. Such a stupid thought to have in a situation where her body has but a single threatened cell aching to leave.

That is all it takes for Juan to hoist her up into his arms, her legs crossing over behind his back for support. She yelps at the sudden action until she realises where he's taking her. Her voice returns to her, almost shaky and out of breath from the continuous kisses. " Woah, I don't know if I'm ready for this- "

He tosses her onto his bed. Then he proceeds in removing his jacket. Y/n's heart skips a beat and she wonders where this would lead to.

Discarding the piece of clothing on the floor he climbs on top of her. Y/n stares wide eyed, unsure of what to expect. Slightly fearful but also excited. This experience is all too new for her. She just lays still and awaits whatever he plans to do. Her heart feels like it is dancing in her chest. Is he going to...?

Juan stares at her with dazed eyes, trapped in his arms beneath him. She looks as innocent as a deer in his eyes. Unfortunately, he's hunted such an animal before... but he'd never dream of doing such a thing to her. She is too precious. And he hopes the beast inside him agrees. He could see that Y/n trusts him. The last thing he wants to do is break that trust.

" You look so frightened. Have you never been kissed before? " Juan asks while caressing her fallen strands of hair out of her face to

" Not by you. "

He smiles again. He presses his lips onto hers again, this time softer and slower. He travels down to her neck and lightly sucks it between kisses. Her shoulders gradually relax, enjoying the tingly sensation.

Y/n reaches up to his curly hair and runs her fingers through the tousled strands. That seems to encourage Juan as he shifts his towering position over her into a tight but gentle embrace. Once again she is encircled by the comfort and safety of his strong arms respectfully in their place around her waist and back. Thumbs massaging at her sides and sending butterflies fluttering throughout her tummy. Juan quietly and breathlessly chants her name between kisses from her lips slowly traveling her neck, from the back of her ear down to her soft and sensitive shoulders. During this moment, this loving gesture, Y/n longs to know for certain how he truly feels.

After a while Juan lays himself next to her and keeps his arms draped over her smaller frame. Panting and breathless, the tension between them slowly dissapates but the thickness in the air tugging in his chest remains. His head nuzzles her neck affectionately, and he sighs at peace. Y/n gazes at him lovingly, with a mix of bewilderment and pensive. She never expected to experience love this way... And especially not from her dear friend Juan. That seemed no further than a dream to her.

She needs to clarify with him soon. She needs to know for sure.

" Juan "

Y/n whispers breathlessly.

" Is that all you're going to do? "

Juan chuckles at the unexpected question. The sound vibrates throughout her body. It feels so calming and yet contains so much strength. Her knees feel weak despite currently laying down. " What do you mean? Do you want me to do more? " He gives her a teasing glare.

Y/n's face flushes. She avoids the look on Juan's face as it just made her blush even more. Turning over to the other side, she gazes out the window to recollect her thoughts as her heart rate gradually relaxes. Juan watches her intently and holds her hand, lacing their fingers.

" I told you, I won't do anything you don't want me to, remember? " Juan searches her eyes and senses that same hesitation from earlier.

Y/n shifts under his embrace to face him, her gaze now serious from contemplation. " Juan. Tell me. Was this just a 'makeout'? "

Juan smiles at her straightforwardness. " I guess you can call it that, yeah? " He lightly caresses her forehead and presses a chaste kiss on the side.

" I mean, did it... mean anything more to you? " Y/n musters up the courage to ask, her stomach twists in anxiousness of his rejection.

Juan meets her gaze affectionately, searching her eyes again. Something is blooming between them it goes much deeper than the physical.

Juan's voice breaks the silence. " I'm still trying to figure things out between us but... it did, to me atleast. " Juan props himself up on one arm. The rest of the words hang in Juan's thoat and he all he can do is gape like a fish. He looks towards Y/n expectantly, scanning her soft features for the response they're both searching for. Her beautiful eyes bore into his and entrance him with their eager filled emotions. Needless anything to say, he understands what she means, and his hope that she feels it too has been fulfilled. The connection between them, is mutual.

Y/n forms a smile of pure bliss upon realisation and snuggles into his side. " If this is a dream please don't wake me up. "

Juan chuckles and she can feel it resonate throughout his chest like a deep rumble. She feels elated, as if they're lying together in the middle of a grassy field on a warm summer afternoon. The rise and fall of Juan's chest comforts her thoughts and she feels like an invisible weight has been lifted off her shoulders. He feels the same as he gently cradles her in his arms. The silence providing a peaceful atmosphere between them.

Y/n's thoughts remind her of the drawing she found earlier and her heart rate picks up pace again. Should I tell him? I might as well. She wonders where it will lead to but she doesn't waste time and gathers her words with much effort.

" I found your drawing. "

Juan leans back to gaze down at her in mild confusion. " Which one do you mean, love? "

Y/n's heart flutters at the nickname he gives her and looks up to meet his eyes boldly. " The one you made... of me. "

In an instant of realisation, Juan's cheeks heat up to a pinkish shade. He is at a loss for words. " H-How did you..? " His breathe hitches in his throat and causes him to stutter. Now he looks embarrassed and tears his gaze away from her with much shyness. Y/n reassures him by gently placing her hand on his face.

" It's beautiful. " She replies with such genuine sweetness in her voice, Juan's heart could melt right on the spot. Y/n can feel the heat radiating off him by now and he attempts to hide himself in her palm. But he quickly turns the tables by pressing sloppy kisses into her hand. A hearty laugh erupts from Y/n's lips.

" What happened to your shyness all of a sudden? " She asks in between giggles. Juan laughs along with her, thinking what a beautiful sound it is to hear her laugh. He promises himself to make her smile that way every chance he gets.

" Shyness? I'm not shy! " He attempts to defend himself but his uncontainable smile gives it away. " It's just- really hard to talk to a pretty girl like you. "

Y/n pauses and looks up at him teasingly in response to his flirtatious compliment. " Oh, so you're like this with every pretty girl then? " Juan's smile fades a little and his heart clenches at the thought. He gazes at her earnestly with undoubtedly loving eyes.

" No. Only you. " He cups her face in his hand and presses their foreheads together.

Y/n's laughing eases and her heart fills with warmth. Her usually avoiding eyes now wonder up to his own without hesitation, capturing hers with his intensity.

It is the first time they've made such eye contact in a while. Where sparks seem to fly, now the glimmer they share is like a dancing flame.

Both their hearts skip a beat. To Y/n if feels like her entire body is frozen in place under his endearing gaze. To Juan it feels like someone has gifted him the most precious jewel in the world. Her beautiful eyes who's always actively ignoring every attempt of eye contact, has trusted him enough to rest upon his own with such adoration. It's like a romance in a comic book, except this time it's real. They can reach out and they can feel each other. They can know each other. And they can be with each other despite all odds. Never would Juan have thought he'd be so genuinely excited over making eye contact with someone before. He couldn't tear his gaze away even if the world were to end that very second. This is too special of a moment to break. To meet your lover's eyes and know exactly what they're thinking, as if peering through a glass window into a person's soul, and seeing that they reciprocate.

" Your pupils are dilating. "

" What? " Juan chuckles at Y/n's random statement. She tends to do that often. Lighten the mood. " Where did that come from? "

" Oh, I read something about it. A person's pupils dilate whenever they look at someone the love or hate. "

" Well in that case... " Juan leans down to her ear and lightly kisses the earlobe. " That probably answers both our questions again. No? " The last words he whispers in Spanish and Y/n can feel the tension between them slowly rebuilding. She steadily holds his gaze and her heart leaps upon hearing his next words that reflect her own.

" Te amo..."

I'm crying inside. If you made it through this... 🥹 Thank you.

(Btw, the picture above is from a sunset in my neighborhood after it rained a while ago.)

[sidekick-hero]

Run Boy Run

It’s the summer of ‘86 and Steve should enjoy it like everybody else in Hawkins. They defeated Vecna, the Upside Down is closed for good (or so El says) and everyone he cares about is still alive, if a little bit worse for wear in the case of Max and Eddie. Steve should be fine, should feel safe, should act normal. But he isn't, he doesn't, he can't.

He has nightmares, every night, and sleeps four hours tops. They seep into his days, too, make his own mind a terrifying place. One day, when he's alone in that big, empty house of his, it becomes too much. He snaps. Barely manages to put on a pair of shoes before he's out the door, feet pounding on the asphalt, drowning out the loud screaming in his head.

It helps. He comes back an hour later, sweat-drenched and exhausted, and falls asleep on the couch before he can even get into the shower. Sleeps for seven hours straight, a record.

After that, he goes on runs more and more often. Buys actual running shoes when his Nikes won't do anymore. He's able to sleep after those runs, is able to let go some of the anxiety that's clawing at his insides. It quiets his mind and that's all Steve can wish for these days.

The first time he ends up at the trailer park is by accident. It's just close to the woods where he always ends up lately, tired of all the curious eyes on him when he runs through town. When he sees the familiar sight of it he slows down, contemplates just running past it, but his legs ache and his mouth is as dry as the dessert. Maybe Max is at home.

It's Eddie he finds instead, out on the trailer steps, smoking. Steve jogs over to him, a genuine smile at the sight of him. When Eddie looks up and sees him, his cigarette drops from his mouth.

"What a sight for sore eyes, Harrington. Want to relive the old jock days?" He asks with a playful glint in his eyes.

Steve shakes his sweaty hair like a dog at Eddie in retaliation. "Shut up, Munson. Running is a great way to exercise.”

“Pffft, the only reason to run is away from something.”

“If you say so. Hey, could I get water before running back? It’s hot today.”

Eddie looks him up and down, bare legs up to his upper thighs, his running shorts and the sweat drenched shirt clinging to his torso.

“Sure is, Big Boy. Gimme a sec, I’ll get you something.”

He comes back with a bottle of water and a towel. Steve takes the bottle and gulps half of it down as if he had never had anything better in his life. It certainly feels like it right now. Satisfied, he pours the remaining water over his head to cool the rest of him.

He uses the towel Eddie gave him to wipe his face, and as he lowers it, he finds Eddie staring at him with a dazed expression, mouth slightly open, eyes unblinking.

He throws the wet towel in Eddie's face and cackles at the indignant stutter.

"You asshole! See if I ever help you in your time of need."

Steve just smirks at him over his shoulder, ready to start the long run back. "You looked like you were in need too, Munson. To wipe up the drool.”

Before Eddie can say anything in return, Steve is off at a brisk pace, feeling smug and invigorated.

Despite Eddie's threat, he gets Steve some water and a towel the next time he stops. And the next. And the one after that. It becomes a routine, the trailer park becoming his regular pit stop, his safe haven to refuel. Eddie is always waiting for him with water and a towel, sometimes a granola bar, and always a blinding smile and a flirty one-liner.

"Just looking at you, Harrington, makes me sweat."

"Maybe you should lose some layers, Munson. How've you not had heatstroke?"

"If you want to see me shirtless, all you have to do is ask, sweetheart."

The nightmares and anxiety attacks don't magically go away just because Steve starts running, but he is getting better at dealing with them. They become more manageable, less frightening.

Things are finally looking up, which is why he's unprepared for a particularly bad nightmare on an ordinary Monday night. He falls asleep on the couch, watching a few reruns, and wakes up to the sound of his own screams, images of snapping bones and oceans of blood flooding into his mind.

He's on the verge of a panic attack, feeling his windpipe tighten and his lungs burn. So he does the only thing he can think of — he runs. He doesn't even change into his running clothes, just puts on his shoes and sprints out of the door.

It's not like his usual runs, because this time he just doesn't stop. He runs until there is nothing left in him but the pounding of his feet on the ground, the aching legs, and the dizziness that comes from exhaustion.

In the end, though, his feet carry him to the only safe place he knows, just as the sun begins to set.

The scene is reminiscent of their first meeting here, Eddie on the steps of his trailer having a smoke, and the sight at last calms something in Steve, gives his mind something else to concentrate on, something other than death and blood and sorrow.

Eddie looks up at the sound of approaching footsteps and is on his feet in seconds, stumbling toward him before he's even fully upright.

"Jesus Christ Harrington, you look like you could keel over any second." Which is exactly what Steve does, his legs giving way and his body being caught by Eddie's arms around him before he hits the ground.

"Steve, hey, man, what the fuck? What happened?" They're both on the ground. Steve's in Eddie's arms, his legs folded under him. His legs hurt, but the pain is a distant sensation, like it's not his own. He’s cold, skin clammy and he feels nauseous. Eddie looks at him with big, worried eyes and Steve tries to stand up again, to show Eddie that he's okay.

He manages, but only because Eddie is shouldering most of his weight.

"Nightmare. It was bad. Real bad. So I just... Started running. I don't know how long? Just couldn't stop. Not until I saw you."

"Okay," is all Eddie says before he leads Steve into the trailer, almost carrying him as if Steve weighs nothing. Eddie is stronger than he looks, and the thought nestles deep in his mind, ready to be examined later.

Inside, Eddie sets him down on the couch. "Stay here, I'll get you something to drink."

He returns with water and dextrose, hands both to Steve and tells him to take slow, small sips or he'll get sick. At Steve's questioning look at the dextrose, Eddie shrugs and mumbles something about stocking up for his weird jock friend.

"How do your legs feel?" Eddie sits down on the couch next to him and Steve sips his water, already feeling a little better. When he touches his leg it hurts like hell, the muscles are too tense under his sweatpants.

He looks up at Eddie and says, "Sore. And stiff, like moving it will make it worse."

And then he does just that, lifting his bent leg and screaming in pain as his thigh immediately begins to cramp. He tenses up all over, tries to stand up, knows that moving the muscle helps with leg cramps, but apparently not this time. This time the other leg cramps as well.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! It hurts." He falls back on the couch and presses both hands to his legs, trying to knead away the contracting knots in his thigh muscles, but to no avail.

Then Eddie is there, pushing him backwards and down on the couch, taking Steve's legs in his lap, pulling down Steve's sweat soaked sweatpants to get a better grip and starting to massage the leg closest to him. Steve reaches for the left one and presses down on it again, can't really get a good grip on it, but the pressure is enough to get the muscles to relax a bit.

Eddie's hands are sure, precise. He expertly massages along the cords of the muscles, starting with firm strokes to warm them up and get the blood flowing again. Next, he begins to knead the muscles, first lengthwise, then across. Steve feels the tension seep out of them, the muscles loosen and the pain subsides. The feeling is heavenly and he composes odes to Eddie's hands in his head.

Satisfied with how Steve's thigh muscles have softened in his capable hands, Eddie moves to the left, giving it the same treatment. Steve leans back on the couch, exhausted from the pain, from his run, from the nightmare that brought him here in the first place. He's tired, so tired. The repetitive movement of Eddie's hands on his legs soothes his mind like the equivalent of white noise.

"Where did you learn to do this?" His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his eyelids keep dropping, but he has to know. Eddie keeps surprising him and Steve can't get enough.

Eddie's hands pause on his sweaty skin and Steve wonders if he said something wrong, wants them to go on, is already addicted to the way they feel on his body.

They continue when Eddie answers his question, his voice soft, careful. "There's this book I found in the library. And it talked about cramps and what to do about muscle strain and overexertion. Just. I remembered what it said when I saw you."

Steve blinks at him, once, twice, before asking, "A book? What book? Why would you read about muscle strai - Oh." Eddie ducks his head, hiding behind strands of his curly hair. "You read a book about running for me." It's not even a question.

Eddie doesn't say anything, which says more than enough, and continues to massage Steve's thighs before moving down to Steve's calves. He kneads the muscles there with the same devotion and Steve melts into the cushions beneath him. Now that the pain is gone, he can enjoy the feeling of firm hands lathering his body with attention.

As Eddie's hands move back up his legs, it feels less like a massage and more like a massage. The touch feels less functional, more sensual, purposeful in a different, exciting way. He feels blood rushing not only to his relaxing muscles, but to other places as well. Steve can't bring himself to care, even though he knows his arousal will soon be visible in his boxers. They've been dancing around each other for months, their flirting all bark and no bite.

He hopes that changes now.

Eddie's hands reach his thighs again, and Steve knows the moment when Eddie sees that Steve's half-hard by his hitching breath and clenching hands. He looks up at Steve's face and his eyes are wide, pupils already dilated, giving him a wild look. A hungry look.

"Steve?" Almost a whisper.

Steve has been running away from his nightmares, his fears, for weeks, but maybe, just maybe, he has also been running towards something.

Toward this.

“You read a book about running for me.”

“I did.”

“You wait for me, every day, to stop by. You take care of me.”

“I do.”

Steve has been running towards them.

“You want to touch me.” They both know he doesn’t mean a massage.

“I do. So bad, Steve. Want to touch you so bad.”

He's been running toward Eddie all along.

“I want you to. Please, Eddie. Touch me.”

It’s all the invitation Eddie needs. He yanks down Steve’s boxers and Steve holds his breath, waits for Eddie’s hand on him.

He gets Eddie’s mouth instead and can’t help the “Fuck,” he almost screams at the sensation of wet heat around the sensitive head of his cock.

His legs are still in Eddie’s lap and the angle is kind of awkward, must be hell on Eddie’s back, but the guy is not only surprisingly strong, but also flexible. He bends over Steve’s legs, his hands on Steve’s hips to hold him still as he swallows down Steve’s dick like it’s his favorite meal.

Steve’s hands find their way into Eddie’s wild mane, burying themselves in the silky strands. There is not much he can do but hold on for the ride.

It’s messy, it’s desperate and downright filthy how Eddie chokes himself on Steve’s dick, swallowing him down until he can bury his nose in the coarse hair at the base of Steve’s considerable length. Steve feels Eddie’s throat constrict around it, feels him gag as it hits his palate, but Eddie doesn’t stop, just encourages Steve with wet, pleading eyes and his hand gripping Steve’s where it’s buried in Eddie’s hair to fuck his mouth.

Steve moans at that, mind blown by the sheer hotness that is Eddie Munson. “You sure?” he still has to ask, has to make sure, holds himself back until he sees Eddie nod, feels him tap Steve’s hip once, twice, three times and knows that’s how Eddie will tell him to stop if it gets too much.

Another broken moan rips from Steve’s throat as he starts to slide his dick in and out of Eddie’s throat. He starts of slow, tries to savor the feeling even if his leg protest under the strain. Eddie moans around him, the vibration doing nothing for his already thin self-restraint, hips speeding up without Steve wanting them to. It’s just. It’s too much, too good, Steve too keyed up already.

“God, Eddie, shit. So good. So hot. I’m close, so close, please, can I come in your mouth, please,” he babbles, brain-to-mouth filter fried by the hottest blowjob he’s ever gotten. Eddie hums at his request, thumb stroking over his hipbone and eyes locking with Steve’s in a silent plea to do just that.

It only takes four more thrusts for Steve to lose it, to bury himself deep inside of Eddie’s throat while he comes harder than he can remember. It seems to go on forever, the cum dripping out of Eddie’s mouth and into Steve’s lap despite Eddie’s best efforts to swallow it all. When it gets to be too much, the pleasure turning into pain at the overstimulation, he cups Eddie’s cheek, presses his thumb to the corner of Eddie’s mouth where it’s stretched wide by Steve’s dick.

Eddie gets the hint and lets Steve slide out of his mouth, licks his lips, tongue catching on a stray drop in the corner of his mouth and it’s so hot Steve wishes he could get hard again this soon.

“Fuck, that was hot, Harrington.” Eddie’s voice is raspy, fucked out and Steve loves the sound of it.

“You just had my dick in your mouth. Call me Steve, okay?”

Eddie grins. “Fuck, that was hot, Steve,” he says and captures Steve’s lips in a searing kiss.

As Steve slides his tongue into Eddie’s mouth and tastes himself, he thinks that they could add this to their routine. He would like that very much.

_________________

A little self-indulgence from a passionate runner who just wants to see Steve in his tiny shorts again (I miss you S2!Steve).

As usual, thank you so so much to @legitcookie and @yournowheregirl for your unending support, great cheerleading and pep-talking as well endless supply of ideas. This would still be just a thought in my head without you 🫶

READ ON AO3

[poisonedspider]

Alright, alright, a bunch of you told me to just go at it soooo. I'm putting it under a read more. Also very large trigger warning, this entire starter relates to suicide, mental health (specifically PTSD), trauma, etc. This is an open starter, so please reply if you want to and feel comfortable handling really intense mental health struggles.

There was honestly no point anymore. That was it, mic drop, curtain closed. I'm sick of the poison, wish I had something to live for tomorrow. The thing was, he wasn't even certain if he did. He had been in Hell a long time, pushing triple the amount of years that he was alive. It hadn't seemed so bad....at first. Hell, in some odd sort of way, was more comforting than his living years. At least down here he got to be himself, no judgment, because everyone else was on #teamdebauchery as well.

The lifestyle had been beyond fun at first. It had even been fun when he had met Valentino. Valentino, who had appeared like some fucking Greek God (or, Latino God, should he say?) and swept him off his feet. Found value in him, didn't mind his bad habits, told him he was beautiful and wanted. If he had known then what he had known now - well, he didn't know if he would have left with Val after his shift at Club 666.

It had still been a decade or so before the contract was signed. And then everything started to get messy. The drugs were never enough to numb it, the hundreds of men could never fill the aching pain in his heart. Between all three Vees, Angel had had to leave. Val, for the most obvious reasons. But he knew when he didn't belong somewhere, when he wasn't wanted. That had been his whole experience being Henroin's son. And he could only stand so many thrown slurs and insults before he would lose it.

He had when he was alive, after all. He had found solace in death.

And maybe, just maybe, that had been what had landed him here. Sitting on top of the roof on the edge of Pentagram City, between the Magne District and Cannibal Town. It was far enough away from the Entertainment District owned by the Vees, or the Mafia and Weapon district where he might run into family. Far enough away from the hotel.

The hotel. His friends. His chosen family. He loved them, but he couldn't say he knew if they felt the same. All they knew of him was the fake persona he put on, the show he performed every day. A bullshit lie, starring the one and only Angel Dust! Cue the fake applause track. He had done it to himself, of course. He would rather be rejected for an image of who he was, then be rejected for his true self. He'd already had that happen too many times. By his dad and brother. By Valentino.

Charlie, she cared, but she cared about everyone. But ever since Pentious had moved into the hotel, she had seemed to put less attention in her first and only patron. He didn't blame the serpent, but it had driven him into a further spiral. Valentino was right - addict trash like him never changed. No matter how much he tried, and put in genuine effort, it wasn't going to matter. At the end of the day, he still sucked dick for a living. He still hid cocaine under his mattress.

And of course there was Husk. Husk, who Angel had started to fall for, even though it terrified him. Love was terrifying. But Husk had always pushed away his advances. Seemed annoyed by him. Uninterested. Maybe their little 'moment' had changed things, but it hadn't seemed like it did. While Husk smiled at him more and seemed more proud of him, Husk still had said he was tired of Angel being fake. And the sad thing? Husk had probably been who he was most real towards. Flirting or otherwise, it was because he had....wanted to try. With him.

This all led to here. He of course had tied all possible loose ends, or so he thought. He had cleaned out his room, the neon lights and pictures and fluffy purple pillows shoved into boxes, looking like he had just decided to move out without a word. Given up. Maybe he had. Fat Nuggets had been the hardest. It hurt his heart to leave his hellpig behind, but Nuggets deserved a better mom than him anyways. He had left a note for Charlie, not about his plans, but secured under Nuggets' collar. Please take care of him. xoxo Angie

Short, simple. He knew she would, too. Just like she did for Keke, for Razzle and Dazzle. Getting the angelic weapon had been the easiest part. Valentino's cabinet was stuffed with them. While Angel didn't have the money to get one on his own, it was incredibly easy to take one from Val. One would think it wouldn't be, but despite their rocky relationship, Valentino trusted Angel. He knew Angel still loved him, and would never do anything to hurt him. Not to mention that by contract, he couldn't.

Valentino would notice one of his guns missing eventually, but it would be too late by then. He had thought nothing could possibly be worse than being alive. Now he felt like nothing could possibly be worse than being dead. And double dead? That was the only unknown. Though surely, nothing could possibly be bad when ceasing to exist. He would never know it. He'd be gone. Nothing. Just like he felt in that moment.

He flipped off the safety, taking a deep breath. He knew how to do this - guns were his specialty, he'd killed so many people before. But fuck if this wasn't scary. When he had died, it hadn't been intentional. Maybe it had been unconsciously - he had wanted to die, and he had taken just too many drugs, more than he knew he could handle. He had slipped into the coma, and he had never woken back up. This was different. This he had to actively pull the trigger. Angel didn't consider himself weak, but he hated how his hands were shaking in that moment.

Hammer pulled back, gun cocked, he looked over Pentagram City one last time. In an eerie way, it was beautiful. He didn't belong amongst any of the good here. An angel he was not, despite his namesake. No, he was just Anthony. Scared. Alone. Nothing. Worthless. He had to shake his head to snap out of it, knowing the best aim - gun positioned right underneath his chin, angled so that he wouldn't fuck it up and end up suffering until he died of blood loss. Finger on the trigger. It would be okay....it would be okay....it would all be over in just three....two....

[scummy-writes]

Autumn Daze

Pairing: Gilbert/Mc (Pre-relationship)

Word Count: 1890

Tags: Fluff, Pure straight fluff, Gilberts kinda a weirdo, desecration of Chev's poor book

Summary: It's finally time for you to have a full day to yourself- and Gilbert decides to join in. Written for the Ikepri Gift Exchange, hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen ! I received @daegupaksu as my giftee- I hope you enjoy it!

Out of all the rooms in the palace, the space that you deemed your own was not just the guest bedroom they had provided you with, but a lovely secluded seating area. Despite the fact that it was a bit out of the way and clearly unused unlike the others, the fireplace was still maintained well enough to light, much to your delight.

It was there that you snuggled in on an early autumn afternoon. The temperature was low enough to justify all of your favorites: the lit fireplace, comfortable blankets, and a warm drink to sip at while watching the colorful leaves blow past the window. Warmth cascaded down your throat, and you smiled, forever grateful Yves begrudgingly taught you his hot chocolate recipe.

The star of the show that tipped your mood into excitement sat beside you, cover glinting in the autumn rays, was the coveted book you had been seeking for months now. Found in Chevalier's library, all you had to do was promise a new book in return for him to let you borrow it. Your luck had been running high lately, and you counted your blessings for it as you cracked open the book.

Of course, perhaps planning such a day proved your hubris. Deep in the pages of a torrid romance, you missed the gentle tapping of a cane coming closer to the couch you sat at. No- you didn't notice the outside world at all until a puff of air hit your ear, Gilbert's voice tickling.

"I found you, little rabbit."

As much as you wished you could say you calmly faced the visiting beast, that would be a bold lie. Because when Gilbert spoke in such a low, teasing voice, your body's first reaction was to yelp and clap your book shut- effectively losing your place.

And control over the now rapid beat of your heart.

"Prince Gilbert!"

Hand over your chest, you wearily looked at him, frowning as he laughed.

"Ahaha, you're so easy to scare. What are you doing in such a secluded room?" His eye scanned the area, landing on your plate of snacks.

"Enjoying my free day… alone."

"I'd like to join you."

"...."

With the games that Gilbert played, you knew the only options for this were to accept letting him linger, or deal with the consequences of being 'forced' to let him cozy up with you. And out of those options, you quickly relented, wanting no arguments.

It wasn't as if spending time with him was awful. Past his 'threats' when you ignored him, he seemed oddly interested in you, so there wasn't too much bickering between the two of you. The more you thought about it, the less you could recall having a genuine bad time with him. There were too many moments between the two of you where he patiently listened as you talked about the latest book you read that clouded your memories. When the two of you were alone, he seemed different than described.

Plus… if he was here with you, others were far less likely to interfere with your day off. You'd gladly sacrifice a book and some of your snacks to ensure more peace today 

So you relented, scooting to make more room on the couch, moving the pile of blankets you had gathered.

“I was expecting a little more bite from you.” 

Even with admitting that, he shamelessly sat beside you-  close enough to where the only space in between was excess from the blanket you had draped across your lap.

Resisting rolling your eyes, you settled in a bit further against the arm of the couch, trying to ignore how Gilbert toyed with the blanket.

“Sometimes, I don’t see the point in getting into an argument when the peaceful option would benefit me more.”

“Hehe, what an odd way to say you’re enjoying our time togeth-”

“There’s some snacks on the table, though I didn’t account for more than me, so there isn’t a wide selection.” You cleared your throat, searching through the pages of your book to locate where you had been interrupted.

“What’s this?” Gilbert lifted the kettle left on the table, inspecting.

“Yve’s hot chocolate-” The excitement in your voice dwindled as he wrinkled his nose, setting it back down immediately. He downed sweets at an alarming pace, a feat that made those witnessing it stop and stare, but he didn’t like hot chocolate? “...and also water, in the jug beside it.”

Without further prompting, he took the glass you had set aside for yourself and sipped at it. You tried to ignore how he deliberately drank from the spot your lips had touched, the faint coloring of your balm leftover on the surface gently coating his lips.

"And are these books from Chevalier's library?" He asked, reaching to pluck one from the stack resting on the table.

"Yes, he usually lets me borrow the ones he's already read."

A hum was your only reply. Gilbert promptly accrued a pile of snacks from your supplies, resting the stack on his thigh as he cracked open the book. Seeing how he finally occupied himself, you went back to your novel, seeing where you had left off.

.

Steady munching brought you out of your mesmerized state, echos of the fantasy you had been reading fading away as you focused on something much more important: being able to borrow books from Chevalier again.

You looked in horror as Gilbert ate while reading, uncaring that small bits were settling into the crevice of the book he read.

"Prince Gilbert… If you get crumbs in that…"

"What do you mean?" Another page flipped, crumbs surely caught between.

… Well, at least Chevalier never reread books. Maybe you could find a replacement if cleaning up was a disaster. 

Gilbert cocked his head as you continued to frown, an innocent smile playing on his lips. For a moment, you wondered why you fathomed he would care about Chevalier's books.

Giving up with a sigh, you set to find where you left off, trying your best to remember what was going on in the story before the conquering beast attempted to stop your heart.

But… curiosity always got the best of you. Rereading the same passage for the fifth time, thoughts preoccupied,  you realized with both of you 'distracted', you could potentially see a rare sight: Gilbert with his guard down.

Or, as close as you could get, anyway.

Pretending to be entranced by the text in front of you, you tucked your hair behind your ear, using the motion to peek at the man beside you.

And…surprisingly, he did seem relaxed. His one eye scanned the pages in front of him smoothly, a cookie poised at his lips as he contemplated the words he read. It was a bit difficult to discern if he was enjoying the novel, but with how he was reclined into a comfortable position, you were hoping that was the case. Suddenly, it felt important that he respected your reading tastes. A feeling you tried to muffle quietly.

And with that same 'glance' that had turned into a soft stare, you began to understand that the tight feeling in your chest wasn't one due to the conquering beast sitting beside you. 

It was due to Gilbert, idly thumbing the corner the page, his focus making your heart flutter.

Had…he always been so attractive?

"You've been on the same page for a while now, little rabbit."

That red eye of his flicked towards you suddenly, making your heart thump painfully. You tried to ignore his grin as you hurriedly focused on your book again, ears burning.

.

“What did you do that for?” The woman exclaimed, looking disdainfully at the man before her. His brows furrowed as she set her hands on her hips, frown set firmly as he sheathed his sword once more. “Figured you might be more grateful. The man was bothering you, was he not?” “Well…”

Ah, nothing ever seemed to go right between the two in this story. But you could feel the main character’s defenses slowly lowering, as the gruff man forced to accompany her on the daily showed his respect in newfound ways. Yet, just as they got closer, one of their emotions would get in the way, halting all romantic progress.

You were sure there was more explanation to be had, however you couldn’t help the fantasies of being in her position instead- working to understand such a man.

Breath held, you read onward, devouring how the male lead seemed to stumble over an apology for his assumptions, having to accept his brash actions were not always the answer. Each new tidbit of information regarding him made your heart beat sound louder in your ears, and just as you reached the telltale dramatic sigh before the true apology was spoken…

Gilbert’s hand came into your view, brisky stealing the book out of your hands.

“I-what? Huh?” You had to blink for a moment to register the absence of pages within your grasp, turning to him in confusion. 

“I’ve been talking to you, little rabbit. After you never responded to my declaration of war, I thought I would give another chance-”

“But it was getting good…”

In response to your pout, you thought you saw a flash of a strange emotion in Gilbert’s eye, one that wouldn’t make much sense given how the two of you weren’t close enough for it. 

“I’m bored, little rabbit. How do you intend to make up for ignoring me?”

.

This position was… 

Settled between his legs was one thing, but Gilbert had gone so far as to set a new book in your lap, resting his chin on your shoulder. It felt like you were just a stuffed toy of his, being held close to his chest as he read.

Your initial offer of letting him have the rest of your snacks didn’t go over well. Instead, he just smiled until you looked over at the table, seeing how every last crumb had been devoured. Of course… 

And in your annoyance, you muttered he could choose what he’d like for atonement. An idea you assumed you’d regret the moment it slipped past your lips, but now here you sat. Shared blankets over your laps, Gilbert’s steady breathing against your back, his soft sigh of contentment tickling the shell of your ear.

It was surprising, how your muscles eased so instinctively in such a position. 

"Have you finished the page?"

"We're reading together? But my other book-"

"You're done with that one, aren't you?"

… For today, it seemed. Overlooking the text, a memory slowly reformed as you picked up bits of the story. Combined with the striking black cover of the book peeking from behind the pages, you were sure of the answer before you spoke.

“Is this that book you recommended a while ago?”

You could feel the way his lips curled into a smile, his hold on you tighter for just a moment before he hummed an affirmation.

Well… It did seem interesting. Perhaps reading it like this wouldn’t be too awful?

Accepting ‘defeat’, you let yourself sink into his embrace, considering that while maybe that flash of jealousy in his eyes felt misplaced, what spawned from it was a rather comfortable end to your day off.

I hope you enjoyed this, Daegupaksu!! If there are any details or mannerisms you'd like me to change, please let me know 🙇‍♀️ For clarification sake, the little '.' randomly between paragraphs are supposed to be scene breaks - tumblr always gives me trouble and doesn't space them out for me properly if I don't put Something down.

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381

Ikepri Masterlist || Ikevamp Masterlist || Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

[thatanimeramenchick]

Can I some yandere Nordics pls!!

Of course! Thank you for your patience, I've been in a bit of writing slump the last two years.

Since nothing specific was requested, I think I’ll just go with some personal head cannons that I have on how their personality works with their yandere-ness.

Denmark

I imagine Denmark as being very similar to America for some reason. He’d be loud, assertive, and maybe a bit delusional. Will loudly enter your life and try to hit on you. I feel like he’s a bit less obnoxious than America though (eh, maybe I just find him hotter) so he’s able to get you to put up with a lot more of his weirdness, and you won’t be scared off as easily.

He just laughs his way through their denials of love or just out right ignores their protests. You don’t love him? You’re so funny how you play hard to get! If you become too difficult though, he will use force to get you to comply.

He could become volatile if he has you in his grasp, and you are being quite nasty. If you manage to cut past that denial he has put up, his truly terrifying side will come out.

Norway

I have this weird feeling that Denmark and Norway have total opposite approaches to trying to seduce and keep their lover, but they are both the exactly the same in that they would be very domineering and controlling. Unlike Denmark, he doesn’t act delusional about your relationship, he is very aware that you don’t like him, he just doesn’t care.

Tries to entrap you in a subtle way. Like a fairy luring a naive child into the deep woods, he wishes to lure your heart to his own. If you respond positively to his affection, he’s never letting you go, even if that means locking you up. A negative reaction though will cause him to act in a more aggressive manner, though he dislikes it. Maybe he’ll knock you out with some tea and lock you in his basement. Once your “his” though, he will tend to dote on you in private, perhaps to a nagging obsessive degree.

Can be quite patient. No matter how much you protest that you hate him, he will wait it out. He's willing to play the long game in manipulation or even after obtaining you if you are being stubborn in reciprocating his affection.

Finland

Finland knows better than both Norway and Denmark: you catch way more flies with honey than with vinegar. I see Finland as being like Norway in that he tries to sweeten his “lover” into his arms, but unlike Norway he doesn’t do this through the excessive doting and nagging, as much as gently nudging and knowing just what the object of his affection needs.

He doesn’t stalk in the traditional sense, but he likes to study you. Pays close attention to everything you say, where you go, and what you do and holds it in his memory bank so he can take out the information whenever he needs it.

Also, I don’t think he’s the type who would prefer to kidnap. Rather, I feel like he’s the type to ruin the relationship you have with someone else or get you fired by pulling some behind the scene strings and then wait with open arms for you to come to him for comfort. He’ll make it look like he has the whole world offered to you on a silver platter. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

Iceland

I feel like Iceland is still in that awkward stage where you like someone and have literally no idea how to express it like a human being. So he tries to overcompensate in a way that makes him seem desperate and sad.

Naturally, most people aren’t attracted to that, and he just as naturally freaks out like there’s no tomorrow and acts drastically. Depending on a lot of factors this acting drastically could range from him stalking you to full blown ruining your life and/or kidnapping you.

May have some "nobody loves or understands me" pity parties if you express genuine dislike or disgust towards him. He could be pulling this to be manipulative, but I think a bit of it is genuine.

Sweden

Also kind of socially awkward but more in the creepy way? It’s not intentional though! He just has this aura about him that makes people naturally fear for their lives. I feel like he expresses his affection for you in a way that just isn’t really effective and creeps the average person out, but it’s not meant to be taken that way.

Will bluntly try to win you over. He will announce to you that you two are going out on a date and when and where, and happily ignore any protests or looks of confusion.

He will also tell other people that you two are dating, regardless of whether its true or not, especially to anyone who may even show the slightest interest. If that doesn’t scare them off, the aforementioned creepy aura probably will.

[wosomarvel]

communication - 04

alrighty, here it is. definitely not my best work, but i wanted to get something out before the second round of midterms starts.

i also got tickets to sinc's last international game so i am in a great mood and managed to write this in the span of an hour.

enjoy!! as always, i am open to feedback <3

this one is very angsty but with a nice dose of comfort as well.

-----

leah was worried. very worried.

the last time she'd heard from sim was over a week ago when she'd texted her a "got home safe" after camp was over. it didn't help that sim had been closed off since the conversation leah had overheard.

at first, leah thought that maybe she was just overreacting. that was before alessia had approached the captain, asking if she knew why sim was suddenly avoiding everyone after having been so joyous after the match.

leah thought she'd give the younger girl some space after everyone went back to their clubs, but on the third day after their return, leah had had enough. she'd gone to sim's apartment with two coffees from the cafe they frequented.

she gave up knocking on sim's door after the ice in her cold brew melted.

it didn't come as a surprise to leah that sim had shut down. she'd always been resistant to talking about her feelings, but leah hadn't expected her to just vanish. leah had spoken to beth, ella, alessia, and even sarina, hoping that sim had reached out to one of them.

her attempts were fruitless. it was during this time that it dawned on leah how little she actually knew about her friend. she had no idea where to look for her, or who else might have a clue where to start. she didn't even know if sim had any family.

logically, leah knew that this was by design. it wasn't that leah hadn't tried. in fact, it often frustrated leah that sim was so good at avoiding talking about anything from before they had met. and it wasn't that leah didn't know sim that well. she just didn't know about sim. she knew her favourite colour, knew how to read her emotions, how she liked her coffee, how kind she was even when she pretended not to care.

that didn't stop the pit of guilt that settled in leah's stomach like a 50lb dumbell she couldn't shake.

"still haven't heard from her?" viv asked, bringing leah back to her surroundings.

leah shook her head in response as she changed out of her training kit. "obviously, i want her to talk to me, but i'd honestly just settle for knowing that she's safe."

viv placed a hand on leah's hunched shoulder, taking a seat beside the english captain as alessia rushed into the dressing room.

"leah!" she panted, holding out her phone. leah took a look at the screen. all she saw was a pin on a map of north london.

"what am i supposed to be looking at?"

"it's sim, i sent her a voice note before training, just asking if she could please just let me know she's alright and she sent me her location and leah-"

"alessia," leah said, standing up and grabbing the girl by her shoulders, "breathe."

alessia took a deep, grounding breath as prompted, before continuing in a much less frantic tone: "she sent me her location. she's really close with you and i want you to come with me to go get her."

leah nodded before pulling alessia in for a quick hug, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "get changed and meet me by my car. i'll drive."

-----

no sound is as annoying as the shrill voice of an overbearing parent at a kids' sporting event. at least, not to sim. a small voice in sim's head was genuinely impressed with how the sound carried from beside the pitch, all the way up to where she was sitting in the highest row of the bleachers.

she could hear it over the rushing wind in her ears and it made her sad to think that one of those kids on the pitch was going home with parents that cared more about winning than having fun. she wished she could rush down there and give those parents a piece of her mind.

then she remembered that she shouldn't even be here.

the last week had been a blur. sim knew it wasn't healthy to shut down the way she had, but she feared that if she didn't, she would break down. she felt pathetic. one conversation with her old uni rugby coach shouldn't have her spiraling like this.

somewhere between pretending that she was fine and missing her sport so much, sim had found herself itching to be near the game again. sat there at a random children's recreation league rugby game, she could hear the voice of her own parents in her head.

weak.

pathetic.

embarrassing.

she should never have come here. she was only hurting herself more.

it's just a stupid game. get over yourself.

caught up in her own head, sim barely registered the two women that moved to sit on either side of her. it wasn't until she felt a hand settle on her knee that sim came back to the moment.

she wasn't surprised at their presence. as much as she tried to convince herself that the only reason she had sent alessia her location was to put a stop to all the frantic messages, a small part of her secretly yearned for the comfort of her presence.

"we were worried about you, y'know," leah spoke softly.

sim shook leah's hand off her knee. "you shouldn't have been."

alessia's heart broke at the hoarseness of sim's voice and the way the younger girl seemed to shrink into herself. she wished she could show sim that she deserved to have people care about her.

she reached over and took sim's hand into her lap, intertwining their fingers before squeezing gently.

"we worry because we care about you, love," alessia spoke, voice gentle. sim ignored the way the term of endearment felt like a warm blanket of security. she refused to let herself feel anything, not wanting to break down in front of the two women she considered her closest friends.

"you don't have to talk about whatever is bothering you, but just let us be here for you," leah pleaded.

as much as sim wanted to keep her friends at a distance, she so badly craved the comfort she knew they could provide. it was something she'd always struggled with.

growing up, sim had learned very quickly to make herself as small as possible, to never be a bother or a burden. she'd learned to make herself easy to be around, easy to love.

"i don't want to bother you," sim murmured, trying her best to keep her voice level.

"babe, you could never bother me. don't know about leah, though. she's like a universal older sister. anything anyone does might annoy her," alessia said with a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the way the corners of sim's mouth turned up.

"hey!" the skipper retorted as she reached across sim's body to smack alessia's chest.

there was a beat of silence in which sim tried to muster up the courage to actually say something. she tried to ground herself in the pressure and warmth of alessia's hand in her own, focusing on the sensation of the pad of alessia's thumb rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand.

"it was my safe space," sim finally let out.

"sorry?" leah's soft voice questioned.

"the pitch. it was my safe space," sim repeated. "it didn't matter what was going on at home, at school, or at work. when i was on the pitch, i was... free, i guess," she stated, though it came out as more of a question. she'd never tried putting it in words before, never tried to vocalize exactly how much rugby meant to her.

"when i was playing, it was like i could fly. i was good, too. i played on the youth teams for the red roses a few times. i went down two days after my first senior call up."

the confession seemed to take the wind out of sim. the hunch of her shoulders and way she couldn't seem to even lift her head up was almost pitiful.

alessia removed her hand from sim's grip, instead choosing to wrap an arm around her shoulder. alessia pulled sim into her side and squeezed, hoping to provide as much comfort as she could. she knew her words would do little to help.

alessia settled on a simple "i'm sorry, love."

"what's done is done," sim answered with a shrug.

leah's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned quizzically. "can i ask why the injury is permanent? surely they could have at least helped you walk again?"

sim sighed and leah's heart broke at the defeat painted clearly in her features.

"leah... football is your job. i know there's still a long way to go in terms of investment in the women's game, but you have to understand that the resources you have are not the same as what i had. when i got hurt, i wasn't just in school. i was working and i couldn't afford to just take time off and heal.

"i didn't even get a scan on my knee until i showed up to the next practice a week later and my coach drove me herself. i wasn't resting either. i probably made the injury worse because i had to go to work and class, so i was just taking painkillers and walking my way through things like normal. i couldn't afford to stop. and when i was waiting for surgery after the scans, i was still working. you got your surgery from a top surgeon relatively quickly. i didn't have that same luxury.

"after surgery, i didn't have time to go to all the physical therapy appointments. i was fitting in sessions at the university when i had time but it wasn't enough. i still had to go to work. between my job, the wait time for the surgery, and my non-existent rehab, i was never going to make a full recovery."

leah felt a surge of guilt after hearing sim's explanation. she had always been humble and made it a point to never take her situation for granted, but sometimes she forgot her own privilege.

"i'm sorry. i didn't-"

"you have nothing to be sorry for. it's not your fault you had better access than i did. just the way things go," sim cut her off, shrugging alessia's arm off her shoulder.

sim didn't want their pity. she didn't want them to feel bad for her.

"i know that it's been a long time now and i should be over it, i know that but-" sim cut herself off, carding a shaking hand through her hair, pulling on the strands in an attempt to ground herself.

"it's just that rugby was everything to me. it's all i had. it was the one thing i was good at, and without it i'm lost, y'know? i don't know who i am if i'm not an athlete. i'm not good for anything anymore."

sim's voice cracked on the last word, the sound like ice being dropped into hot water. it brought tears to leah's eyes to see how much sim had been struggling, how she thought so little of herself.

she gently caught hold of sim's hand, flattening it against her own thigh to stop the girl from hurting herself.

"that's not true," alessia said firmly, once again wrapping her arm around sim. "you are so much more than your injury. you're quiet, but you light up every room you walk into. you are so kind and you make everyone around you feel safe. you're funny, and thoughtful, and smart, and i think you get the point now but you're wrong if you think you're not worth anything if you can't play," alessia rambled, red rushing up her cheeks.

sim shook her head almost imperceptibly. it's not that she thought alessia was lying. that wasn't it.

how could alessia be so sure about her when she didn't even know who she was?

leah squeezed the hand still pressed against her thigh. "sweetheart, look at me," she prompted softly.

again, sim shook her head.

leah let go of sim's hand, instead placing it at the back of sim's head and using a thumb to angle it towards her own. she didn't miss the way sim's brown eyes bounced around their surroundings, refusing to land on hers for more than a second at a time.

she decided to let it slide for fear of pushing sim too hard. she'd only just gotten the younger girl to open up and was reluctant to risk another shutdown.

"it doesn't matter that you got hurt a while ago. you're allowed to feel however you feel about it. when i tore my ACL, i was a mess. i held it together on the pitch, but i was inconsolable. i was in a really dark place for quite a while. i know our situations aren't the same, but i felt lost, too. i realized that my identity as a person was tied to my performance as an athlete and it wasn't healthy. but i had beth and viv to help me out of it and i want you to let me do the same for you. less is right. you are so much more than what you can do on the pitch. and it's okay that you're feeling lost and you don't know who you are. we can find out together, yeah?"

a choked sob escaped sim's mouth, causing leah to immediately stand up in front of her, carefully pulling her head into her body.

leah didn't care that her shirt above her stomach was slowly becoming soaked with sim's tears. she let her fingers scratch gently at sim's scalp, relieved that the girl was finally letting it out.

as alessia kept a firm grip on sim's shoulder, she made eye contact with leah standing above her. a silent sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two lionesses.

they were prepared to do anything to make sure sim didn't carry her emotions on her own again. the pain they felt at seeing their friend so broken wasn't something they wanted to feel again, but they would do it over and over a million times just to make sure she wasn't alone.

-----

"so she lives!"

it was katie's turn to host the rest of the gunners for dinner this week. sim's absence from the last two team events hadn't gone unnoticed.

though sim wasn't a part of the team, they had all quickly grown accustomed to her appearance at the side of alessia, leah, and recently beth. she might not have played for the team, or even worked for them in any official capacity, but they had taken her in all the same.

sim would never be able to articulate just how much that meant to her. she went from not having any family to having found her place in two: the lionesses, and now arsenal as well.

"so where'd you run off to, anyway?" steph questioned.

"your mum's house. she says hi, by the way," sim quipped.

there was a beat of silence before a burst of raucous laughter took over katie's living room.

a playful scowl took over steph's face. "you've been spending too much time with mccabe."

[luzxii]

spooky month characters walk in on y/n who selfharms

characters: kevin, radford, streber, rick

content warnings: self harm, blades, mentions of suicidal thoughts

notes: these headcanons are not intended to romanticize or make light of a serious issue, the goal of this writing is to discourage said actions and encourage those whom are dealing with these things to get help. if you or a loved one is dealing with the things mentioned in text, please reach out to someone you trust. you are loved.

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kevin

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You’ve been working at the Candy store for a while now, you were just having a really bad day.

Kevin creaked open the back door of the candy store, clearly exhausted; asking for some help cleaning up the store before his shift ended.

He stopped in his tracks once he got a good look at you, realizing you were bleeding out.

“ … Y/N?! what are you doING- I– “

 He could barely comprehend what was happening at first. He stood there in shock for a moment, completely frozen in place seeing you like that.

Once he took it in, He panicked. Kevin would stumble up to you and grab you by the hands; trying to stop you from causing any more harm to yourself. He didn’t at all realize that you were feeling like this, a part of him couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault for not being considerate. He couldn’t help but feel anger, not at you but at whatever was making you feel so horrible.

“ shitshitshitshIT.. “

He’d cuss under his breath, trying to keep any blood from getting on him. It clearly hurt him a lot to see you doing this to yourself, just holding your hands; even shaking a little.

He’d just question why, why did you do this to yourself? He understood to a degree however, he himself has had self destructive thoughts even if he never acted on them; especially to the degree of self harm. He was painfully unlucky, especially with Skid and Pump. But he just wished he could’ve stopped this before it started happening.

Kevin stayed for extra time to clean up the blood stains on the floor as well as your arms.

From then onward he said his sarcastic remarks and offhand comments less around you; wanting to be more respectful and considerate now that he knew what you were dealing with.

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radford

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“ I’m ready for the movie! I’ve got some popcorn and everything. “

He barged into your room holding a bag of freshly popped popcorn, a grin on his face; excited for the movie you planned to watch together at your house. The harsh realization of what he walked in on was enough for him to drop the popcorn all over the floor; his grin wiped from his face entirely.

“ …Dude… “

He went really quiet, He seemed heartbroken. He sat right next to you, you tried to cover your arms, but Radford already saw everything.

He took off his glasses, he could see without them; yet his vision was blurry with further objects. He looked at your arm, a big frown on his face. He tried to reach out to it but backed his hand away, not wanting to risk agitating your wounds.

“ How long have you been doing this? Have you told anyone? “

He seemed genuinely concerned, asking question after question to make sure he could help you the best he could. He just had no idea what to do. He wanted you to be happy.. You aren’t his first friend who's self harmed, but he never saw it firsthand and never really prepared to. He just stood by your side and made sure you were safe.

“ You can .. talk to me, y’know? You’re safe here.. “

He’d stick by his friends' sides for anything. He’s helped Kevin and Rick through a lot of things, and he was fully prepared to try his best to help you.

He treated you around the same as before afterwards, yet took your mental health into account and kept it in mind in your interactions.

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streber

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Streber let out a huge gasp at first, springing to you and holding you close, absolutely distraught to see you in so much pain. He didn’t realize it was self harm at first, just seeing you in distress was enough to bring him to this point.

“ Y/N, ARE YOU OKAY!? I’M SO SORRY I WASN’T HERE SOONER! OHMYGOD– “

He trailed off when he noticed the blade you were holding, gazing from it then to you. 

“ Wait. Are you.. You’re hurting yourself, aren’t you?  “

“ I’m sorry, Streber..”

His entire dramatic persona dropped for a second. He was naturally an exaggerated person, but certain topics brought him back down to earth for a moment.

The next thing you knew, Streber began to cry. He was a very emotionally driven, and finding out you were hurting yourself? That definitely was enough to cause him to break. It just made him so distraught to imagine you doing that, he couldn’t handle it anymore.

He yanked you into a hug, weeping into your shoulder. You tried not to stain his shirt with your blood, Streber didn’t seem to care. He loved you, he could put up with a little blood. He wished he could take all of those awful thoughts away from you, he’d take them on himself if it meant he could rid you of them.

From then on he always tried to check up on how you were doing more often,  wanting to make sure you were safe and taking care of yourself.

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rick

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You were silently crying in your apartment room, only to hear your door slowly crack open; to be met with your current roommate Rick.

I headcanon that Rick himself has had a history with suicidal thoughts and self harm, so if anyone can relate to how your feeling; its him.

He wouldn’t say a word, just observing you at first; keeping his blank facial expression with no sign of any emotion. However deep down he just took this situation very seriously, he didn’t want to alarm you or make things worse with excess reaction.

You watched him right back, trying to catch your breath; yet you didn’t feel it was any use hiding yourself near him.

He took the knife from you, stoic as before. Then leaving the room, returning soon after with some plaster bandages and other medical supplies; having put on gloves to avoid contaminating the wounded area.

Rick patiently cleaned your injuries then wrapped the bandaging around them, taking time with every swerve to not risk hurting you any further.

He placed a hand on your back in case you needed extra support once he completed, just staying present near you.

Rick didn’t think he was good at consoling people, but he knew it was unsafe to leave you alone like that for very long.

“ I get how you feel. “

You were still sniffling and he could see it, he’d rub your back up and down and pulled you a little closer.

From that day onward, Rick was able to understand you a little more. He wasn’t one to do or say very much but he tried to show his support in you improving; he knows for a fact that self harm isn’t worth it and that you deserve to get better, even if it's rare for him to say that out loud through his usual pessimism.

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