#i suck at comics but i certainly tried

[kira-fluff]

"can you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

pairing: osamu miya x reader (haikyuu!!) a/n: unfortunately based off a true story. tw: anxiety, bullying, swearing, threatening

you sidled yourself in a seat next to your good friend. "heeeeey 'samu~" you grinned.

"what do ya want?"

"can i not just want to greet my amazing friend?"

he gave you a skeptical look and you blanched. "well, uhm..."

"if it's my food ya want, yer not gettin' it." he grumbled, selfishly sucking more milk through his straw.

"can you be my boyfriend?"

comically, osamu proceeded to spew the milk in his mouth out in shock, nearly missing atsumu who sat across the table, much to both of their dismay.

wiping some milk from his mouth, osamu managed to choke out a strained, "yer for real..?"

you blinked, then flushed, "i-i-i meant for pretend, i mean it!" you bit your lip, "there's this girl who recently decided she doesn't like me. i'm not sure why... but she started telling rumors and lies about me to other people.....including her boyfriend. and...and.. he's super intimidating..." you looked away, "'samu, he came up to me the other day and said that if i mess with 'his girl'... that i'd 'regret it'....'samu, i'm scared. it's silly, right? but.. but it would just make me feel safer.."

a warm hand fell on your shoulder, "'s not silly. 's a threat. do ya want me 'ta take care of him?"

you shook your head quickly, "n-no! i just... i need you to just.. pretend. i know it's weird, but it would mean a lot to me, okay?"

osamu eyed you up and down before saying, "why me?"

your eyes widened and you once again couldn't look him in the eye. after all, it'd be pretty lame to confess after he so blatantly shot you down a few minutes ago. "well, you're my best 'guy' friend. and you're pretty much built like a greek god--"

he smirked, amused, "ya think 'm built like a greek god?"

"i'm still here, guys, keep the flirting to a minimum," piped in atsumu.

you both turned in unison to him, identically saying, "shut up, 'tsumu."

you cleared your throat, "anyway, you're bulky and strong and could definitely beat him in a fight."

"obviously."

"so will you help me... please?"

osamu's resolve seemed to waver the longer your stared into his eyes with a begging expression. to be honest, the moment he'd heard that some guy was harassing you, he was beyond pissed off and was ready to agree to just about anything you asked of him. but, once he found out that you had also wanted to be his (albeit, pretend) girlfriend? it seemed like the perfect opportunity to show you what it could really be like.. and how much he loved you.

"i guess." he said, his cheeks slightly flushing.

it shocked you that he had agreed. after all, this is osamu you're talking about. he scarcely looked your way, much less harbored any idea of you being his girlfriend. and yet here you were, walking down the halls, holding hands. he avoided your gaze, though you knew him well enough to know he wasn't annoyed with you, just embarrassed, which you had expected.

what you hadn't expected, however, was that girl. you call her that girl because you honestly didn't know her name. only that she despised you. you frowned, recalling the numerous times your friends walked up to you telling you she'd said you were "annoying" or that she was surprised you were ever invited to anything what with the way you make everything about yourself. you knew your friends meant well but a part of you wished they'd never told you. you weren't exaggerating when you say that you are a "drama-free" person. you seemed to always be the last one to hear the gossip going around and certainly the last to spread anything. it upset you that despite your best efforts someone had decided that you were irritating enough to make comments to others about. you tried to not take things personally, you really did, but when you'd heard her talking about you while you were in a bathroom stall, it took all of your strength to hold back your tears. unfortunately, because you're drama-free, you also aren't the most confrontational person. rather, you preferred confrontation when the other people didn't seem to take anything anyone ever did personally. you thought back on yourself, searching for anything you could've done wrong to bother her but after much consolation from friends, turned up nothing. still, a part of you felt like it was all your fault. maybe you could've tried harder to be extra kind to her?

you were broken out of your thoughts by a squeeze to your hand. making eye contact with that girl, she rolled her eyes and turned, walking the other way. osamu looked down at you in concern as your brows furrowed in a hurt expression.

"do ya even know her?"

"..no."

"then why should you care what she says or thinks?"

"because, 'samu, it's not that easy. i can tell myself it doesn't matter and that i shouldn't care but that doesn't make it so. it doesn't rewire my brain to stop caring about what other people think. no matter how hard i try."

he was silent for a moment, contemplating something.

then, he lightly caressed your cheek with the palm of his hand, smiling softly. "i guess i can't change yer mind... but i can remind you that the people who are actually worth yer time won't make some round-about shitty way of telling ya they have a problem with ya."

you smiled warily, though he had to admit he said exactly what you needed to hear. besides that, you noticed you'd definitely chosen the right guy - his acting skills as your boyfriend were superior. your eyes wandered around to the gaze of your fellow peers as some cooed not-so-subtly at osamu's public display of affection.

your gaze returned to his as he eyed you up and down. "ya sure yer alright?"

"positive."

"ya know it's okay not to be fine all the time."

you laughed lightly, "thanks, 'samu. but really, I think I'm okay. i just can't think about it or it'll make me all upset again."

"wanna come over tonight? thankfully i'm makin' dinner and not atsumu," he grinned.

you conservation switched to various other topics as you both walked down the hall before he had to go to volleyball practice.

-

"didn't i tell you what happens to bitches who mess with my girl?" a gruff voice called behind you.

you froze, regretting the fact that you neglected to bring your phone with you during your lunch break and were subsequently now completely alone with some gorilla-faced man who spoke gravelly like he wasn't in high school at all. slowly turning, you cowered, "i-i don't think i did anything wrong.."

immediately his fist slammed against your locker. "obviously you fuckin' did if my girl is tellin' me you've been a fuckin' problem!"

"i-i-i don't even know who she is," you defended, moving your hands to shield your face in fear.

"bullshit."

you screamed as you felt a hand tightly grab your wrist and you squeezed your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the impact of a fist. after a few moments, you opened them, shocked to see osamu standing in front of you, shielding you from the gruff boyfriend.

"get a load of this guy," osamu smiled sardonically, "getting involved in his girlfriend's drama because she can't handle it herself? you must be her hero."

the man grit his teeth hard, winding up for a punch that osamu immediately countered, without breaking a sweat.

"you take that back you fuckin' piece of shit!" he growled, aiming for a blow to osamu's kneecap. "how the fuck does a prick like you even know this stupid bitch anyway." he continued, seemingly adding fuel to the fire.

osamu's eyes widened with a fiery rage, "you don't get to talk like that about my girlfriend." within seconds, the man was pummeled to the ground and osamu's fist connected against his face repeatedly until you pulled osamu away.

as if the situation wasn't already at its worst, that girl came running down the hall. "you BITCH! how dare you do this to my man! i fucking knew you were a rat." she paused for a moment before letting out a shriek of laughter, "oh? what's this? there's no fucking way you managed to get a boyfriend. what, you finally found someone willing to fuck you for a price?" she giggled, "osamu miya, was it? tell me, how much is she paying you to play pretend?"

osamu ground down on his teeth dangerously as he eyed the girl with contempt. "I'll have you know that i asked her out and was lucky enough for her to say yes."

she forced out another laugh, "then you're both pathetic! a match made in heaven."

you willed the tears to stay in your eyes, not wanting to give the girl the power of knowing that she hurt you, that she made you cry. you whispered something even you could barely hear.

"what was that? finally apologizing to me?"

you narrowed your eyes, looking her directly in her own as you raised your voice, "I said 'LEAVE US ALONE!'" you screamed with all you had in you.

she smirked, seemingly only a little fazed by your outburst. "fine, I'll leave. as soon as you prove you guys are actually dating. 'cause, like, there's no way, right babe?!" her boyfriend grunted out a laugh from his position on the floor.

this is the end. you thought. i'm gonna have to confess that i made this whole thing up and then i'm never going to hear the end of it. you sent a worried look to osamu who was already inches from your face. you tried to back away in shock, but his hand found purchase on the small of your back. he pulled you in tightly before taking your chin in between his index and thumb. his eyes conveyed a message you couldn't quite decifer.

yet, the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours. it wasn't at all the sort of chaste or reluctant kiss you were expecting, but one filled with hunger and desire. you returned in equal force, intertwining your fingers in his gray-brown locks. you could've sworn you'd heard a guttural groan as you shifted your leg in between his. when you at last separated, the girl and her boyfriend were gone. it was just the two of you.

osamu looked down at your lips once more before meeting your eyes. "hey."

you laughed breathily, "hey."

"do ya wanna date fer real?"

you answered with another eager kiss.

[carlplsrailme]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬

summary: getting caught kissing rick grimes son, by rick grimes is probably the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you.

Carl Grimes x Fem!Reader

wc: 600

request: can you write something like carl and reader getting caught making out ITS BEEN ON MY MIND ALL DAU😭🙏🏾

cw: kissing, getting caught.

The heat was prominent as you stood crossed armed in the middle of Alexandria's walls. The summer warmth collecting on your skin, nipping at your cheeks and nose while your warn out white tank and blue jeans didn't help your situation.

you watched as people ate their lunch and moved on, not hungry yourself. 

"I'd expect you to be down there eating by now, it's your favorite" you looked to the side to see Carl, long brown hair sitting on his shoulders as his smile, ah, more of a smirk held upbeat on his lips.

"yeah, well, not really in the mood right now..I'll have some later" you smiled, turning back as Carl laid his back on the wall as well

"ya'know, watching people eat isn't really that great of a hobby" he pried, you rolled your eyes as he pushed and pushed before you asked him what he really wanted

"I have new comic books, new ones we can read together!" he grinned like a little boy, you scoffed as you wore a smile back at him.

"you could've just led with that"

.

now, you sat crossed-legged on his bed. he tossed around his desk, talking to you about the new comics and all, you listened intently as he twirled around with a...gift in his hand?

pink paper wrapped a book-shaped figure with a thread tying into a bow. your furrowed brows were enough for him to realize how oblivious you were

"uh..this is for you.." he suddenly became shy, cheeks red and it wasn't from the suns rays coming from the window

"for me? why?" 

"ugh, just take it..it's a...present for you" you grabbed it and started to tear the paper off, slowly peeling away to see a book cover that was all too familiar

"oh my goodness, Carl! holy shit you really got it!" you squealed as you see the "1" on the cover, the book you've been trying to get for the longest time as you only had the other ones... except for the first one of course.

"yeah, well, I was on a run and uhm..it was just...there" yeah, it wasn't just there. he had to kill a small herd of walkers that were in the store just because he saw a glimpse of it through the window..but...he'd never tell you that

"that's amazing! thank you!" you kicked your feet liked a little girl as Carl became flustered at the pure sight of your happiness, something he doesn't get to see often

you ran up and gave him a hug, pulling away to look him in the eye, emotions getting the best of you as you contemplate finally acting on your feelings...and...you do.

you lean in and finally. fucking finally kiss him. his soft lips you've always looked at sucked into yours as your both held each other tight, soon you both found yourselves on the bed, with you on his lap, nothing sexual, just loveness and pureness.

you held his face as he held your waist, your head twisting as you attempt to kiss him even deeper, and then..

"Carl, you never-" Rick opened the door up, and with raw fear you tumbled off him and Rick watched with nothing but shock

"Dad!"

"Oh..Oh...um..my bad" he walked back before closing the door, and then opening it just an inch before running down the stairs, you felt hot but not in the way before, hot with embarrassment

"I-I'm so sorry" Carl stuttered, upset and embarrassed that that was how your first kiss went

you burst out laughing as you tried to put yourself together, Carl joined you in a couple of seconds, your laugh too intoxicating not to. 

so maybe not the best first kiss, but certainly one to remember..

oh and, Rick gave the...talk right after to a very shameful Carl

an: hiii guys! i haven't wrote fluff in a while <3 had kinda a bad day so this was really nice for me to write...ilysm! ♡

[spookberry]

I used to think of this au type dp fic/comic a lot, and it was entirely spawned by me misinterpreting the line "boys with beating hearts beat a boy buried in the backyard" from the song Friendly Neighborhood Poltergeist (10/10 song i absolutely recommend it if you havent listened to it before and the vibe is like a chill melancholic love song tho not as spooky ooky as that line might lead you to think)

Anyways I don't think I'll ever get around to it so I'll just tell you about it.

Basically, it was from the pov of the A-listers(specifically, Paulina, Dash, Kwan, and Star) after a bullying attempt gone wrong leads them to thinking Dash accidentally murdered Danny. With no one but them as witnesses, they try to cover it up. And that was the part I would think about the most. The anxiety and paranoia that built up amongst them. Star playing voice of reason to keep everyone together and grounded. Paulina being the one that swears them all to secrecy and attempts to pretend it away but looks completely haunted when she thinks no ones watching. Kwan keeps suggesting they turn themselves in, and Dash is in the anger/denial phase of grief constantly lashing out but also scared of himself and avoiding his usual bullying ways. A tumultuous week goes by, putting a heavy strain on the four of them. Its weir, though, no one is looking for fenton. Its like no one even cares what they did. Its like no one even knows somethings wrong, so theyre just waiting for shit to hit the fan.

The next week though, Danny shows up again in class. Just like always. No one is acknowledging he was gone for a week. And he certainly isn't acknowledging that he looks like shit and is hiding an injury right where the killing blow had been.

It was a fun concept though cuz a-lister pov theyre all in a terrible horror film where theyre the bad guys. Meanwhile Danny is like "dang that sucked, oh well just another casual friday in the fucked up life of danny fenton." Cuz like they DID hurt him but them thinking he was dead was just part of his whole half ghost thing and now hes gotta pick if hes gonna commit to the bit or just let them stew in their own guilt for having tried to cover it up.

[vrisrezis]

Comfort with atsv characters <3

Warnings?: reader is Latino/Latina, reader is a spider person, can you tell I wrote this at like 2 AM? (Spoilers for atsv). Is it obvious I don’t read the comics based off of hobie and pav? Also all the spiders are able to understand Spanish so 👍🏾 reader is hinted to be bisexual in Peter B’s (they also cannot have children), reader isn’t gendered but in Jessica’s they certainly are not a male,

Gwen is quiet, but you allow it. Miguel didn’t tell you much of what happened in Gwen’s dimension, but it clearly bothered her, whatever it was. It was just one of those very nights where she was bothered about her situation. She didn’t ever talk about it, rather she just sat in silence for awhile and then you’d make her some tea in hopes of easing any nerves or pain. She felt bad crashing at your place all the time like this, so much so she tried bothering hobie every once in awhile so that her staying at your home wasn’t as constant. You tried to remind her that this is what partners do, they look out for eachother when they need it the most. Staying at eachothers places when one of them is pretty much homeless is included in that.

Honestly though? Selfishly she enjoyed it. Maybe it was because she simply enjoyed your company, or because you were sweet enough to let her share a bed with you and she got to watch you sleep. She got to see all your features up close in your most peaceful moments. But of course, she missed her home. She missed her dad. She missed when things didn’t suck. She missed Peter too.

You’re both on the roof of your house. She’s thinking about things, deeply. She thinks about her life, her place in the world, She almost starts to cry, but she’s still holding back, holding back as much as she possibly can right now. It’s the first time you see her like this, and you feel relieved. You’re relieved because you know she’s been going through so much, but has been trying so hard to keep it inside.

“Mi amor, por favor, no reprimas tus sentimientos. Está bien llorar, somos tú y yo.” you say, putting your hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Not wanting to be too intimate in case she became uncomfortable in such a state. But you don’t have to worry as she grabs the hand on her shoulder and intertwines your fingers.

She finally allows her tears to flow. More then flow, they stream down like a ocean of tears. In the midst of it, she hugs you and you hug her back. Pulling her into your chest and she can’t help but feel safe in your arms.

“I’m so sorry.” she says in between sobs

“Don’t be. Te Amo. I will always be here for you, yknow? No need to hold back for me.”

Miles puts his head on your shoulder. He’s quiet, and unsure what he should say next. But you don’t say anything, and you decide he should be the one to speak first. He wraps his arms around your middle, and you change positions so his cheek is smushed on your chest now, your arms wrap around his waist. You could fall asleep like this, but you’re determined to stay up until miles tells you what’s on his mind. Even if you already know, he should let it out and talk about it. He always ends up telling you what’s bothering him, he’s practically an open book. At least in your mind, though you do suppose he is good at keeping secrets from others. Not the point though, you were there when it all transpired. You know what he’s upset about.

“How are we gonna get home?” miles finally asks, confirming your suspicions. He truly had no idea what he was doing, and what either of you were going to do. You’re both stuck in the wrong dimension with no way to get home. “How am I gonna save my dad?” he wonders aloud. You’re not sure yourself, you opt for one of your hands reaching for his back and rubbing his back in a circular motion as a means to comfort him.

“I don’t know.” you admit, but you continue before he could say anything, “but what I do know, is that you can do anything. Even the impossible. Eres el hombre más increíble que conozco. You’ll figure it out.”

miles shakily sighs, “I don’t know.” he says, so unsure of himself. “You don’t have to.” you say, “give yourself a moment. Recollect yourself. Cry if you need. Te protegeré.”

He truly doesn’t know how to thank you for everything you’ve done for him, continue to do for him. The support and love you’ve always given him, the advice you’ve given him, he knows there’s truly nobody quite like you.

There’s a moment of silence between you and hobie. While this wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence when the two of you just chilling out, this time felt very different. Instead of a rather calm and tired expression at this time of night he seemed so defeated, though that tiredness seemed more like exhaustion. And you come to the conclusion a canon event had to have happened for him to wear such a sad expression. It was only recently he had taken upon the role as spiderman in his dimension, or as everyone called him, spiderpunk. You know the whole spider thing is new to him, how stressful it can be to be on your own like this. You’ve been there too, and not that long ago. In your dimension you’ve only been a spider person for a couple months.

You stand up from your place on the couch, walking up to him. You want to feign surprise, not knowing what’s happening. But you know. And you know that he knows, as he always does. Spider people typically aren’t good at lying. “You know, dontcha.” he simple says, voice rather quiet for somebody like him. “Yeah.” you eventually say, “it happens to all of us.” you admit. “For Miguel it was his wife, his daughter. For Peter it was his uncle. For me it was my mother. This is just.. part of the course.” you say, as if it’s just something to shrug off. Hobie can’t help but feel sick to his stomach upon you doing that, cause it doesn’t feel like the you he knows. The you he knows wouldn’t stand for some… cycle, some faux destiny. It’s not like you to just give up and treat something like this as just… it.

But he’s too upset to press you about it, so he rests his forehead on your shoulder and no longer says any words. You wrap your arms around him in an embrace and he allows it. “I know you probably have a lot of questions.” you say, and he’s always taken aback at how you’re the only person he’s ever met that can read him like a book. Then again, spider people are not good liars.

“For now, what I’ll tell you is this.” you start, “you’re going to lose people. It’s going to happen if you continue this line of work. The hard lesson to learn about this job is that we can’t save everyone. At least, not alone.” you continue, “but together, we can.” you say, and upon these words he feels a bit more relieved that you hadn’t fallen down some algorithm. You haven’t given up nor are you falling in line with some dumbass rules Miguel has set up.

“I can’t exactly provide you the best advice.” you admit, “pero siempre estaré aquí apoyándote. Puedes contar con ello.” you say, and hobie smiles for the first time that day.

Pavitr has never been like this, but it’s to be expected. At least, in your mind.

He clutches you like a lifeline, and if it weren’t for your super amazing spider strength you think you’d be in a ton of pain right now with the way pav is holding onto you.

You’re not even the one that nearly died. Pav nearly lost his best friend, gayatri as well as her father who also seemed to mean a lot to him. You don’t know much about him and singhs relationship, but you know it’s rather complex. Pretty hard on Pav and his friendship with his daughter, assuming they have a romantic relationship or something along the line. But this very man seems to adore Spider-Man. So naturally, complicated. But didn’t change the fact he meant a lot to Pavitr. He almost lost him. He almost lost two important people in his life. And if he almost lost them, could he have lost you?

He tries to reason with himself, you’re strong and can handle yourself fine but what if…?

“¡Basta!” you say, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard you yell at him. Because of this it’s quick to snap him out of the daze he seemed to be in. He can’t help but let a few tears slip out. You put your hands on his cheeks, worry seeping through your eyes. “Odio cuando haces eso. No me va a pasar nada, cariño. Puedo protegerme así que no te atrevas a preocuparte por mí.”

You wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “Mi amor, we’re gonna be okay.”

Peter sighs, and from that moment you know somethings wrong. You’ve known this Peter in particular a long time, there’s something obviously weighing on him. It certainly helps you’ve gotten to know so many versions of him, so many peters and so many of them are horrible liars. He is no exception.

You can’t help but wonder if it’s MJ related, which tugs are your heartstrings a bit. But you understand him, he lost his love. His first love in fact, and he’s not willing to let her go. You understand. You remember your first love, Gwen. Just a pretty blonde in your science class, but you fell hard. And so did she. To her death, that is.

You sit next to him on the balcony, “wanna talk about it?” you offer, and he can’t help the sigh that escapes him. “I don’t know.” he admits, but as soon as he says that he feels himself leaning on you.

“Have you ever thought of becoming a parent?” he asks, and you can’t help but be surprised by his question.

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “Yeah, I suppose.” you shrug, “not that I’d be able to have one, but yeah.”

“Really?” he wonders, and you nod. “Both me and Gwen, at least in my dimension, were physically unable to have kids. The same went for me and my own Peter.” you shrug, “not that I was interested at the time though. It’s moreso a ‘what if I could’ situation.”

“I want a kid.” he admits.

“So did MJ, and she still wants a kid.”

You feel your heart sink for a moment, before deciding it was his time of need, not yours. You’re both far too old for shit like this. You’ll move on. Like you always do.

“I could give her what she wants.” he continues.

“But I don’t know if… I can? I guess?”

“What do you mean?” You inquire.

“It’s a lot of things. I mean, what if I’m a bad dad? What if I’m not there enough? And besides that point, even if I do go through with this, the kid would have to deal with having parents that aren’t even together.”

It takes a minute for you to process his words, especially the last part. “Wait… why wouldn’t you two be together?” he shrugs, “because she deserves better.” he says, but it doesn’t seem like the full truth. “And besides I wanna be with somebody else.”

He tries to be subtle with his next words, “they can’t have kids, so I think this is a next best option. At least, when I’m ready and they’re ready and we’ve been dating long enough where it wouldn’t be weird to ask.”

You can’t help but wonder if it’s you he’s talking about.

But for the time being, you ignore it and put an arm around his shoulder, “Pues deja de preocuparte. Serías un gran padre.”

he cracks a smile and thanks you.

Jessica is always well put together, it’s something you’ve always known about her. But there’s something off about her.

You think you know what’s up, but you know better than to think you know everything going on with Jess. She’s not exactly an open book, only is when she wants to be.

She kept a lot of her personal life away from you, as a means to protect you from that. Either that or she wanted her privacy, which you also understood.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to touch her stomach, admire it, the excitement of a new life was adorable in your eyes. But her relationship with her husband was something she never relayed to you, she never talked about him and if she ever did it was briefly. A part of you wondered if it was because she knew how you felt and wanted to spare you. A part of you hoped that was all it was, and that there was nothing else going on.

But you’d be wrong, as you often were.

She lets a few tears shed, and it’s the first time you’ve seen her cry.

“I don’t think I love him anymore.” she finally admits, and you have a feeling it’s the first time she’s admitted this to anyone, even herself.

“I don’t think I ever did.”

“I don’t even think I like men, period.”

And this puts you into a even bigger state of shock, woah.

“I think I just wanted a baby.” she continues, “and it didn’t matter who it was with as long as I got one.”

“I thought, it was because I loved him so much I wanted to start a family but…” she turns her head away from you, “I don’t think I ever felt a damn thing for him and I’m scared and I feel so guilty.”

All you can do is wrap a comforting arm around her,

“No pasa nada. Siempre estaré aquí Jessica, lo sabes. Podemos resolver las cosas juntos.”

she leans into you despite her mind telling her to pull away, don’t be soft, don’t give in.

But she does.

She gives in to her deepest desire.

She gives into you.

Miguel is never this clingy. Something is wrong, and you feel it. It’s not just his aura, it’s his body language. It’s the fact that his face is shoved into your stomach, desperate for you to not only not hear him at all, but not see him. You feel his sorrow, his shame, his guilt, his anguish. But most of all you feel his regret and his grief and you automatically know what’s wrong.

You run your fingers through his hair, something he normally hated but in times like these truly loved more than anything and it calmed him down so quickly. He still doesn’t know how you do it, honestly. You make him putty in his hands without even trying and honestly that terrified him. To be so weak, so soft, when it comes to you.

“Vamos, cariño.” you say, “let me see you.”

He’s not quick to comply, but he eventually does with enough head scratching. You sigh at how distraught he looks. You hate this, you really do. You hate seeing him upset, that one injury of yours could send him spiraling like this.

“No voy a morir tan fácilmente, sabes. Ten un poco de fe en mí, ¿quieres?”

“Lo sé.” he replies, shakily.

“I’m just scared of losing you too.”

You kiss the crown of his head, “I know. But trust me when I say a little injury is not going to kill me. I’ll be okay.” you try to reassure him.

He nods, but you have a feeling he doesn’t believe you.

Even after all these years, you don’t know how to help him.

[eddies-house]

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Nine - Blue Eyes

W/C: 8.4K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

Blue eyes never caught your attention...until they stepped into The Bourbon.

A/N: this was such a monster of a chapter to edit just because there's a lot going on...i hope y'all like it <3

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“Okay, well that’s not gonna work.  We can’t afford all that.” 

“What if I gather some…I dunno…donations?”  You ponder.

“Bambi, enough.”

Eddie huffs at your persistence, crossing off a few items from the list placed in front of him.  Your adorable handwriting had spelled out numerous options for fundraising ideas; something to get the bar back into a somewhat profitable margin.  He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t grateful for your efforts but he had proven to become more and more annoyed as your list grew throughout the week.  An impatient Jett stands next to you, rocking back and forth on his heels as he sucks in his cheeks, attempting to keep his thoughts to himself, though it was never his strong suit to remain quiet when necessary.

“Dude, just pick one!”  He blurts out.

The tiny office looked comical, three bodies crammed in a small space that would certainly run out of oxygen had the door been shut.  A displeased glare catches Jett’s attention, only offering you a shrug in response to his outburst.  You’d mentioned before even approaching Eddie for the umpteenth time this week that the key was going to be patience.  Let him come to you.  Make it seem like part of it was his idea so he doesn’t feel like you’re doing charity for him.

“No, we can’t afford to put on a…a wine tasting or a—hoedown?”  Eddie questions with furrowed brows as he underlines the words with his pointer finger.

“Eddie, if you let me–”

“I’m not letting you do anything.”  He asserts.

“Listen–”

“No.”

Eddie Munson was the most stubborn being on planet earth, that much you could attest to.  But you weren’t going to let him tackle your plans to the ground without a good fight.  

“Munson.”  Jett tries, only to be met with an inflamed scowl.

With wide eyes, you attempt to pull his attention back to you, hoping to save Jett from receiving an earful later.  “Eddie–”  

“Nope.”

“Eddie!”  You squeal, eyes squinting shut painfully as you throw a miniature tantrum.

“Bambi.”  He deadpans, leaning over his desk to stare you down.  “Leave it.”

The look that used to scare you weeks ago now only had you rolling your eyes.  He was at it again, refusing any ounce of help that was offered.  When he got like this, you could only play it up and bring out your begging eyes.  Hope for the best.  

“Jett, can you give us a minute?”  You clear your throat, an overly polite tone taking over.

“Fine.”  He sighs before leaning in to whisper.  “The hoedown…make him pick the hoedown.”

With a playful smack to his shoulder, you escort Jett out of the office–or rather you push him out and kick the door shut.  His sights were set on that hoedown ever since the two of you sat down to scrawl out a few ideas the previous week.  It was bold of him to assume that you could ‘make’ Eddie pick that option.  If you’d learned anything since moving here, it was that Eddie Munson was a force to be reckoned with.

“Alright Munson.”  You lean over his desk as he takes a seat in the squeaky office chair, you were a bit too comfortable in his space as your perfume flooded his nose.  “We are doing one of these, whether you like it or not.”

His stare should frighten you, large intimidating eyes nearly black as the patience drains from him, tongue poking the inside of his cheek as if he were contemplating a scolding remark that would force you to back off.  It only encourages you.

“Oh, we are?  I wasn’t aware we were under new management.”  He counters, seemingly deciding to choose a softer approach.

“Yes, we are.”  You bite.  “Because if not, we aren’t even a we.  There is no bar.  Will that make you happy?”  

If it seemed harsh, it still needed to be drilled into his thick skull.  

“I know that!”  Eddie raises his voice, caught up in the heat of the moment.  He didn’t allow himself a moment to think, only act.

He wishes he could punch himself for the way he made your face drop.  A hint of fear taking over your graceful features.  It wasn’t who he was—or at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself.  He didn’t yell to get his way, he was not his dad.  

“Fuck–’m sorry.  Sorry.  I didn’t mean to…get all mad and blow up on you.”  He sighs, shyly shifting his gaze toward the ground.  “I’m just…”  He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m stressed and–that’s not an excuse, I’m just trying to–fuck I dunno.” 

“Eddie...”  Your saccharine tone pulls him out of whatever hole he was currently digging himself into.  So candied and coated in tenderness.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to continue, the look on his face telling you everything.  The wrinkles forming between his eyebrows are extra prominent, frown lines growing deeper in his anguish.  

“Let us help.”  Your words are dripping in honey.  It’s obvious that you’re buttering him up, putting on your extra sad puppy dog eyes just for him, lip puckered out extra pouty, such a pretty sight, all for him.

“We want to help.”

There’s no saying no to you, he can’t stomach it.  It was getting worse as time went on, every time he had the urge to tell you no, he couldn’t help but feel sick.  Maybe if he pulled Jett back into the equation he’d have better luck.  The kid got under his skin especially when he egged Eddie on and didn’t take a hint.  But when you’re sitting all pretty for him, your elbows propped on his desk as you stare at him like you want nothing more in the world, who is he to deny you?

“Okay.”  He exhales nervously.  “Whatya got?”

“Really?”  Your eyes twinkle, something he’d pay to see every single day, even if he was on the verge of bankruptcy.  Which he was.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”  

From just outside of the door, Jett chews on his nails, the argumentative tone of conversation just seconds ago still riddling him with anxiety.  It would do no one any favors to rile up the boss who had clearly already been under an immense amount of pressure with his inherited business crumbling around him.  Jett knew the steaks, he knew that Eddie would refuse to give up given that his grandfather had passed down everything to his only known grandson, leaving behind his legacy.  Unfortunately, it’s hard to offer help to those who refuse it.  But Jett knows that if anyone can persuade the big, bad Eddie Munson who was too stubborn for his own good, it was going to be you.

Every time you walked into the room, Jett witnessed a miserable man come to life.  Bored, tired eyes became enamored and filled to the brim with infatuation.  A bland day would instantly be cured the second you sauntered in with your tray, more often than not dropping it in the process of securing your apron around your waist.  You never learn, always opting to struggle with the tray tucked in between your arm and body while your hands fumbled with those damn strings, sending the tray straight into the floor, your pens spilling out of your apron and startling you every time as the items clanged against hardwood.  And every time, Eddie is there, watching from across the room before the inevitable happens.  Every time, he is at your feet, collecting your mess and questioning ‘got it?’ in a gentle tone that Jett doesn’t ever recall hearing before you came into the picture.  

Every time, Eddie Munson is reduced to a puddle of a man right before everyone’s eyes.  Only ever for you.

It’s infuriating. 

Jett supposes had he made his move sooner he would hold your attention like Eddie does.  He would catch your gaze from across the bar, a tiny smile gracing your lips.  The sparkle in your eyes would be for him and only for him.

Reality delivers a punishing kick and reminds him that Eddie had you from the beginning, even when he was outright rude to you.  He had your curious eyes from day one.  It wasn’t fair, Jett was so convinced at first.  It wasn’t fair that Eddie had been the biggest asshole and yet your mind seemed so made up on him, eyes never lingering on another soul as long as they did when Eddie was around. 

He was sure that he was over it, he told himself there was no chance, but something about the banter he heard muffled by the office door only stirred up every pessimistic cell in his body.  Every giggle you let out at some stupid ‘joke’ that wasn’t even funny, every fucking time Eddie called you Bambi, every time you playfully scolded him only to reel back and flatter him, all of it drove Jett nuts.  His fists were clenched at his side, knuckles threatening to split at the tension and face a raging red.

Because Eddie Munson had the very thing he desired.  And he didn’t deserve her.

–

Your negotiations intrigued Eddie, the way you had a solution for every problem he attempted to create didn’t even frustrate him anymore.  It used to aggravate him when you would offer a simple solution to a problem he deemed unsolvable.  Now it only made his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming uneven solely because he couldn’t get enough of your energy.  He thrived off of it, a different kind of high taking over him when you would voice your ideas, your eyes lighting up as he watched the gears turn in your head.  

He almost misses your offer to persuade Jett into snagging some hay bales from his family’s farm should he end up choosing the Hoedown Night from your extensive list.  Truthfully, he was lost.  Lost in swirling thoughts of the girl in front of him who nearly two months ago, he would have never given the time of day to.  And he didn’t…at first.  But now…now he would give you any time of day you wanted.  Rain or shine, day or night.  He didn’t care, he would do the impossible if it meant your face lit up like a Christmas tree every time.  He just couldn’t quite admit it to himself yet.

His lack of enthusiasm concerns you although you don’t show it as you continue ranting on about Donnie mentioning some old table cloths and picnic blankets she no longer wanted that could be used.  She even mentioned her husband having a few empty barrels out in their garage that could be great for apple bobbing.  She went as far as to ask around for different items they could use from her neighbors, already collecting an array of items they could use at their disposal.

“-and then we charge for entry.  I know it’ll probably only make a small profit but it can hold us over somewhat, right?”  

He’s thinking again.  

His bottom lip is tugged on by his teeth and his lids are heavy with that far off look.  You didn’t think your pitch was that awful in all honesty.  You would admit that Donnie’s idea of a stripper night could be taking it too far but there were so many other ideas that had such potential and if he turned every single one down, you didn’t quite have a backup plan prepared.

“Eddie?”

He blinks, twirling his pen in between his fingers as if it were a drumstick but he still remains unresponsive.  It’s not a good sign.

“I-I know it’s a lot of work and–”

“Okay.”  He breathes.

“Okay?”

Your eyes become doe-like, ironically.  You were really living up to that nickname, the one that sent goosebumps up your spine if he said it soft enough.

“Okay.”  

His agreement doesn’t feel genuine, his gaze cast somewhere far off from the tiny room.  

“Eddie.”  

Your tone goes stern.  Or at least stern enough for him to break out of his thoughts.  Within seconds, coffee colored eyes are regarding you in a way that can only be met with heated cheeks and twiddling thumbs.  He had been lost in his mind again, only returning at the mention of his name a second time through that firmness you displayed when you really cared about something.  

“Bambi.”  The word is grounding, anxieties settling where they were once fluttering around in your stomach.  You no longer worried if you had upset him in some way.  Not when his voice sounded so smooth, so satiny that it almost killed you.

That welcoming voice that felt like a tight hug echoes in your ears.  Brown sugar falling from his tongue and sweetening any further exchange of words, no matter how conflicting his mindset could be compared to yours.  As long as he kept using that tone, you would be putty in his hands.

“Um, so…we’re doing this?”  You question meekly, a contrast to the confidence you had just displayed. 

It’s quiet, though his red cheeks are louder than any words.  He’s apprehensive, his irises darting around the less than decorated room.  It’s obvious that he’s fighting an internal battle, engaged in a horrible disagreement with himself.  Harsh words are probably prodding at his brain, forcing him to be reluctant in accepting any fraction of help.  

What he doesn’t realize is that while he swears you’re staring at the biggest coward to walk the earth, you find him to be brave.  It was clear after previous nights of long talks and shared trauma, that this wasn’t easy for him.  Giving up control was the most terrifying thing he could do.  Accepting this form of help was foreign to him, people back home in Indiana never offered him such courtesy.  

So you wait.  

With a stupid amount of patience that Eddie will never understand, you soften your gaze.  All pressure is removed.  Your attention shifts to doodling some kind of a flower on the paper sitting atop the desk in between you.  You don’t await an answer from him, you only exist with him.  Nothing is required of him and somehow, you both understand that.  

He doesn’t want to be held to such requirements.  He wants you to raise your standards and he wants to meet them, exceed them.  You shouldn’t have to dull your bright personality for his shattered dignity.  He’d always been a shadow looming over those he was closest to, always a dark cloud among a sunny day reminding everyone of his detrimental existence.  

Good things did not happen to Eddie Munson.  

Not in the past, not in the present no matter how convincing life could be in coaxing him into its trap, and certainly not in the future.  Anything disguised as a saving grace would always end up being Eddie’s eternal hell.  It always has and it always will.

Either way, his fate was determined.  So why not let you take the lead?  In his eyes, it would honor him if you ruined his life and although the mere thought of you leaving him behind in the aftermath of destruction haunted him, he couldn’t help but give up his control.  

He was tired of fighting off the ‘good things’.  

Especially when he would be left to piece himself together either way.  It’s just another event he would have to endure, another lesson he wouldn’t learn from because he was too goddamn stubborn.  Another mountain he would have to climb with his bloody, bare hands.

You continue waiting, not once pestering him for confirmation.  He hates it.

He hates it, he hates it, he hates it.

You should be screaming at him, demanding an answer after his prolonged silence.  Your hands should be smacking the surface of the desk in annoyance, your eyebrows should be pinched in frustration, and they aren’t.  

There’s a comfort in the abuse.

Secretly, he begs you to lose your cool, pleads with some higher power that you snap out of it and just slap him across the face like he deserves.  He is being difficult and you aren’t reacting.  He has gone mute and you are simply okay with it.  Even in the most forgiving situations he braces for impact but you make it so hard to.  

His guard is supposed to be up, the walls are supposed to close him in and keep everything out but they’re crumbling around him, fast, exposing him.  He feels naked but you don’t stare at him with expectancy, you don’t reach out and snatch what vulnerability he has left.  

“I–”  He breaks the unforgiving silence, wincing as his voice cracks.  It’s only when you glance up at him with understanding eyes, your heart on your sleeve, that he relaxes.  

Tension still pulls at every muscle, but he breathes.  He breathes through the nausea of putting his trust into another person.  Something he swore to never do again ever since his dad dared to show his face one last time back when Eddie was in high school.  It was only the last time because he had gotten arrested, Eddie was sure he’d be stupid enough to give him several chances in hopes of fixing his deranged father.  He was only human and the six year old kid in him only wanted to see the good in people, especially his ‘pops’.

“We–we’re doing this.”  He practically demands of himself.

“Eddie we don’t have to–”

“We’re doing it.”

With glassy eyes, he nods as if he’s still convincing himself.  You can’t help but intervene.

“Seriously, I know we were coming on strong but it’s just because–”

“I know.”  

You don’t need further confirmation from him, big brown eyes doing enough of the talking as you begin to assure him he was the one calling the shots.    

“Do you?”  You ask genuinely.

Again, a part of him is pissed that you won’t just take the answer and tell him he didn’t need to be such a baby about the whole thing.  Maybe slam the door out of irritation, enough to shake the wall.  Maybe ask for a raise for all of your efforts.  People didn’t do things for him just to be nice and he was already hating himself for being so pitiful that Donnie was offering to help without any compensation.  

“Yeah.”  He whispers.

“Are you sure?”  

“Can you just–”

Eddie finds himself on the cusp of blowing up again.  Anger bubbles in the back of his throat like bile, his hands clenched into fists repeatedly as his lips trace those familiar numbers before letting anything he regrets fall from his mouth in his moment of fury.

“Can I just what?”  You question softly, hand reaching for his.

“Nothing.”  He breathes.

There’s a pause, a brief moment where he’s clearly panicked, resembling a spooked horse.  It disappears just as fast as it came, his eyes softening as he processes the situation.  You just had to go and ruin it.

“Why do you count?”  

The question spills into the air without you even thinking, your mind simply throwing it out there without fear of any consequences.  Without thinking that maybe now isn’t the time.  You regret it as his shoulders tense up, his guard up once again.  The guard you’d patiently chipped away at only to destroy any progress you’d made.

“I–”

“Sorry, sorry!  I’m sorry, I–just pretend I didn’t ask.”  You attempt to stitch the messy conversation back together.

“No, uh, I-I…”  

Stop letting her in.

You’re gonna get hurt.

You don’t expect his shoulders to untense as he sighs, you don’t anticipate how quickly his guard falls again, any hesitance he displays faltering before completely disappearing into thin air.  All that remains is sincerity, face no longer contorted in worry and eyelids drooping ever so slightly in his sudden relaxation.

“I just–I started doing it after…after everything back…back home.”  He answers before his thoughts can steer him away.  “I dunno why.”

You’re satisfied with his answer, you’d even be satisfied with no answer.  He didn’t owe you explanations and yet he kept giving them to you.  Spilling his guts out to you, practically letting them fall onto the thin, dingy carpet of the office.

“I, uh, I’ve asked my therapist about it.”  He elaborates, voice quiet and mumbled.  “She said it’s part of the PTSD.”

You didn’t expect him to reveal such a personal detail although you find yourself squeezing his hand, settling into the quiet of the bland room.  Words aren’t necessary, they never are between you.  

“I don’t even know how to throw a hoedown.”  Eddie snorts to himself, the energy shifting into something more familiar, more comfortable in the blink of an eye.

You’re willing to unpack whatever baggage he had revealed but it’s clear that he no longer is.  And that was okay.  

“Oh don’t you worry, I’m gonna get you a big bedazzled cowboy hat and everything, just let me take care of the details.”  You partially joke, deciding not to tease him over his not-so-subtle choice of Hoedown Night.

“No, nuh-uh.  Not happening.”  He protests, arms thrown up dramatically.

“C’mon, you need to look the part!”

“I don’t have to do anything.”

His smile is contained, a grin threatening to pull at his pretty lips as his thumb grazes the top of your hand.  A small gesture that nearly burns your skin.

“Well, I think you’d look cute in a cowboy hat.”  Again, your mind speaks for you without any contemplation.  

You should take it back.

You want to regret it.

You don’t.

It’s worth it when his face flushes red again, his fingers coyly pulling a curl over his face as if to hide, a sight you wanted to capture if only you had your polaroid with you.  You’d have to settle for mentally pinning this moment to the wall in your mind that was ever growing.  He doesn’t return the flirtatious banter but it doesn’t go unnoticed when he beams at you from his chair as you offer him sparkling eyes and fluttering lashes on your way out.

Two Weeks Before Thanksgiving

“Okay, Jett’s  bringing the haybales in for Friday?”

“Yep.”  Your pen glides across your messy, scribbled out checklist in a hurry.

“Did you get the apples yet?”  

“Nope, was gonna stop by Thursday so they’re fresh.”  You mumble, jotting down a few more tasks that had yet to be done.

“Alright and Nathan’s gonna have his truck all set for hay rides outside, that’s another charge right?  We can charge extra?”  Donnie questions, her scatter brain on full display.

“Yes, that would be great.”  You assure, grace in your tone.

“Alright and then, Eddie’s friends should be here on Wednesday to surprise him–”  Donnie begins to mutter.

What?”  Your eyes widen, practically bulging out of your head.

“Yeah, Steve?  And then the others–”  Realization hits Donnie like a train, her eyes nearly falling out of her skull just as yours were.  “Oh shit!  I forgot to tell you.”  She hisses.

Glancing around, she ensures the coast is clear before waving you out back.  It was a Monday, the lack of patrons allowing you to do all the planning you needed to for Knife’s Edge first ever Hoedown.  Donnie had been mapping out the place, assisting you in drawing out the layout for the event on paper.  Eddie had been managing the bar, the sluggish evening rendering him positively bored, making it a point to initiate a huge yawn every time you passed by throughout the evening.

It drove him crazy when you pretended to ignore him.

“Do you think he heard you?”  You whisper, the safety of being just around the corner not enough to convince you.

“He didn’t, that boy is nearly deaf.”  Donnie seems certain.  “God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”  She throws her arms up in exasperation.

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” 

“Here’s the deal.”  Donnie pulls herself together, grabbing you by the shoulders.  “They come into town Wednesday night.  Four of them I think, I always forget their names, god it makes me feel like shit.  Anyway, they’re gonna surprise him at the bar.  They usually stay with him.”  She nearly runs out of breath in her explanation.

“Okay.”  You breathe.  

“Did I answer your questions?”

“I, uh, I think so.”  You nod.

“You cannot tell him.”  Donnie stares you down.  “They’ve never surprised him, he usually knows when they’re coming to visit.  Swear you won’t say a word.”  

Her demeanor is almost threatening although you find it sweet that she cares so much.  Eddie’s best interest had always been something she prioritized, same as you.  In your eyes he was a golden boy with a golden heart who was dealt shitty cards.  You weren’t sure if Donnie had been enlightened about any pieces of his past but you both seemed to have the same goal in mind.

His happiness.

As you continued to prepare for Friday’s events, you avoided eye contact with Eddie at all costs throughout the night, especially after you had learned about the ‘big surprise’.  You’d walk past the bar, the shaker in his hands as he prepared a drink.  He’d pause, the shaker mid air as his gaze trailed after you.  You felt awful for denying his puppy eyes but it was all for his benefit in the end.

You couldn’t lie though, holding his attention as you continued to ignore him over and over offered you an ego boost.  You’d never been looked at in such a way, you never felt so desired in your life.

–

“Have you seen the way she ignores me?”  Eddie complains, Jett only muttering nonsense in response that Eddie couldn’t decipher.

“She won’t even look at me when I talk to her!”  He almost whines.

It was getting to him, your constant neglect.  It had been a day, a whole day since you’d started avoiding his eyes, never smiling at him the way you usually did throughout your shift.  Not one little wave thrown his way.  He felt starved.  He’d never been so needy for someone’s attention, he was starting to feel like a leech.

“Dude, she’s just working.”  Jett grumbles, his hands occupied as he stacks a hay bale against the back of the building.  They’d been instructed to go out back and relocate them to make things easier come Friday night.  They’d previously been stacked near the dumpsters, a little ways away from the building and were now being hauled next to the back door for easy access.

“You don’t get it, she’s being weird.  It’s like she hates me.”  Eddie grunts as he lifts the brick of hay.

“Maybe she does.”  Jett sighs, not a single thought behind his words.

“What?”  Eddie questions, attempting to hide the panic that had begun to shock his nerves, his head snapping toward his supposed friend.

“I–I dunno.”  

“She say somethin’?”  Eddie demands, shoving the hay onto its corresponding stack as he diverts his attention to Jett fully.

Jett’s gaze only gives off that he’s hiding something, his eyes avoiding Eddie at all costs, an ongoing trend poor Eddie was beginning to find.  It only fuels a fire inside of him, embers growing angrier each moment Jett stands there dumbly.

“Did she?”  The look in Eddie’s eyes resembles that of a bear that had been poked.  Jett regrets letting his innermost thoughts fall from his lips in a moment of irritation, now he was subject to Eddie’s unforgiving inferno that was never easy to escape from.

“No.”  Jett snaps a bit too aggressively.  

“Then what?”

“I don’t know why you think she owes you attention.”

If Jett hadn’t fucked up yet, he certainly had now.  If only he could’ve kept his stupid, naive mouth shut.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Eddie’s fist clenched at his side says enough, it screams that the conversation should stop here, that Jett needs to stop egging him on but he refuses to let it end here.

“Yeah, you practically pissed on her, claiming your territory and shit.”

If looks could kill, Jett would be in for a world of pain.  Just when Eddie thinks the twerp is finally going to realize his place, he keeps going.

“She’s not your property, what if she had her sights set on someone else?  You gonna swoop in and piss on her again?”  

It feels as if someone grabbed his heart straight out of his chest and chucked it off the nearest cliff.  The blood had stopped pumping and he swears he feels his veins run cold.  He didn’t think he stood a chance with you but the thought of you becoming absolutely infatuated with Jett sickened him.  Did you really have the intention of going after Jett?  He couldn’t stomach the idea.  He might as well sell the bar and run now to save himself the heartache, the only thing he was good at.

“I–”  Eddie’s speechless, rage and sorrow clouding his vision.

“Oh, now you’re gonna shut up about–”

“I never claimed her, or pissed on her, or whatever the hell you’re saying.”  Eddie argues.

“Yes you did!  ‘Bambi’?  What kind of shit is that?”

Eddie can feel himself vibrating with anger, his blood heating up once again as he scowls.  Jett had not once expressed any interest in you and now here he was, attacking Eddie over something as stupid as a nickname.

“Go fuck yourself.”  He spits before storming inside.

No one would ever want to be on the receiving end of the absolute death glare he’d shot Jett.  It lasted seconds but some would go as far to say those seconds were torture.  Deep down Eddie knew he could punch Jett and be done with it, assert his dominance.  But that’s not what his intent was, you weren’t some prize to be won.  You had simply fallen into his life and he couldn’t help but fall in lo–

He couldn’t help but surrender to your existence.  

And now?  Now he was in his head again.  If you were going to ignore him, he was going to let you.  You didn’t owe him a thing, even after the late night talks and spilled guts of vulnerability.  Jett could have your attention for all he cares now.  Except, he does care.  And that’s what causes such an ache within him, the fact that he does care even if you don’t.

–

“Eddie, can you hand that glass to me?”  You request sweetly, tip toeing as you point toward the shelf above him.

He looks up, a wine glass tucked nicely on the top shelf within his reach but clearly outside of yours.  The frown on his face puzzles you though you keep to yourself as he garnishes a drink with orange.

“Mhm.”  He mumbles bitterly, reaching up to grab the glass and handing it to you without so much as a glance.

You should be glad, looking into his eyes would only force you to engage in conversation with him and doing so could lead you down the path of honesty.  You’d for sure give up the surprise and you only needed to last one more day, you couldn’t fuck this up.  

“You okay?”  You question, hesitantly gripping the glass in your smaller hand.

“Mhm.”  He mumbles again, sliding the cocktail across the counter to its awaiting customer.

“You sure?”  You betray yourself, attempting to catch his gaze, no longer caring that there was a chance of spoiling the surprise.

“Mhm.”  

It was the third hum in a row.  It drove you crazy, he would usually say something snarky and act like the smartass he is by now.  He’s not and it worries you.  Maybe it’s not your place to worry but you do.  

“Eddie.”  

“I’m fine.”  He huffs, chest heaving.

A warning glance has you nodding, slowly stepping away to resume your original task.  It was humbling, one day bantering and somehow falling into conversation about each other’s deepest secrets and the next being treated like a stranger.  You obey his stare, his chocolatey eyes no longer displaying any trace of affection or depth, only pure hostility.  The spark that had threatened to ignite so many times had disappeared completely, only what appeared to be ash leftover from the small fire that once burned within him.

“What’s wrong with him?”  Jett announces himself next to you, breaking down a dirty table as you go to retrieve one of The Bourbon’s most expensive bottles of wine for a snobby customer.

“I, I don’t know.”  You whisper in despair.

The rest of the night, you’re met with spiteful glares from Eddie and lingering touches from Jett.

Wednesday Night

This was it, after tonight you wouldn’t need to be so avoidant of Eddie.  You wouldn’t have to lie to his face.  It was becoming apparent however, that he had become irate.  Every second of the day.  That morning you waved to him as you got the mail and he tinkered with his truck to which he practically snarled and went right back to work.  It was like you were back to square one with him, back to when he hated you and you had disturbed his precious, quaint, little life.

It could just be that he’s in a bad mood, it was early after all and maybe his truck had given out on him again.  It was reasonable enough, it would piss you off had you been in his shoes.  You weren’t entirely sure you’d take it out on everyone but it would sour your mood.

It was hard to keep a smile on your face while he glared at you from behind the bar just as he had done the previous night.  You were trying to be the bigger person, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.  He was just making it so difficult by purposely delivering daggers to you whenever he could.

“Hey!”  Jett greets you, emerging loudly from the kitchen.

You greet him back, a muttered ‘hi’, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from the man that seemed to suddenly hate you.  You were in no mood to be friendly anymore, not when Eddie was creating such a venomous atmosphere using only his face.

“Is everything pretty much in place for Friday?”  

“Uh huh.”  You don’t even so much as look at Jett, a head full of curls the only thing holding your attention at the moment.

“You going with anyone?”  He asks, pushing himself into your line of sight, much to your dismay.

It was as if you were trying to read Eddie’s mind from across the room and if you stared hard enough, you’d finally get through.  You had no such luck and it could potentially be because Jett kept pestering you with questions.

“I’m working.”  You state obviously, wiping down the table you had been clearing.

“Well–yeah…yeah me too.  I just—maybe after?  Once everyone’s cleared out, would you wanna…go out?” 

It takes you by surprise and for a second, you’re unsure if he’s asking you out as a friend or if he’s making a move.  As you evaluate the situation, you determine that it’s the latter with the way he shyly smiles and averts his eyes ever so slightly, his cheeks tinting a bright pink.  You’d done nothing to feed into his interest, even when you figured he was just being friendly, simply too busy working to engage in the conversation he continued to try and force.  Now it was just going to get awkward.

“I–I, Jett I’m sorry but…no, I’m not–I can’t.”  You choke out, the sheer humiliation of the situation for both parties dragging you down.

“Oh.”  Is all he says, disappointment evident in his eyes, gaze casting toward the floor as he twists a rag around in between his fingers.

“I just–we’re friends–”

“Yeah.”  He sighs bitterly, spinning on his heel to speed off toward a busy table.

There was no further conversation, he didn’t let you finish, didn’t even offer to talk privately.  It was just…done.  And now you feared you’d made an enemy simply by saying no to a date.  You were now the villain in his story.  It seemed you were becoming the villain in everyone’s story at this rate, what’s one more?

It was t-minus two hours until Eddie’s friends would be arriving to surprise him and you were already worn out.  If there was any hope of making a good impression at some point, there wasn’t a chance anymore.  They’d be met with a mess of a girl with smudged mascara and crazy hair, apron stained with melted cheese that you had leaned into earlier on one of the tables.  

They were going to hate you.

–

“Honey, what’s wrong?  You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  Donnie ushers you toward the hallway leading to the back, only stopping just before going outside to talk in private.  

The whole night it seemed you were a brainless mess, messing up orders and forgetting in general how to do your job.  Donnie had been keeping an eye on the time, ensuring things were set up for when Eddie’s friends arrived all the while making sure he had no idea.  You’d helped set up the table for them and set aside the alcohol they liked but in all honesty you don’t even remember your entire shift.  You were right back to being a stupid girl that didn’t belong.

“I-I just–do you think Eddie is upset with me?”  Your lip wobbles pathetically.

“What!?”  Donnie gasps, as if it were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.  “Why would he be mad at you?  That boy likes you better than he likes me.  Better than he likes most of us.”

That was news to you, you’d never been the favorite.  And you doubted her words, no matter how sweet they were.

“I-I dunno.  He seems–he seems really on edge and I’m just…I’m really overwhelmed and–”  You whimper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”  She rubs your shoulder almost uncomfortably.  Physical affection was not her specialty.  “I’m gonna–I’m gonna go get him–”

“No!”

Before your protests reach her ears, she’s gone, rounding the corner straight to the bar.  You’re well aware that you should rush out the back door behind you right now, that you should just spare everyone your existence but before you can pick up your heavy feet from the ground, a mane of curls comes hurling at you, hands reaching out to grip your shoulders.  You look pathetic, tears beginning to trail down your cheeks, mascara more than likely following them, creating the most psychotic image.

“Bambi, what happened?”  He asks, sincerity creasing his forehead rather than irritation as you’d grown used to in the past day or so.

“Nothing.”  You attempt to brush past him, swallowing what pride you had left only to be firmly held in place.

“What happened.”  He demands.

Chocolatey irises refuse to look away from you, his mind made up as he pushes for an explanation.  Determination settles in his gaze, he wasn’t going to let you take the easy way out, much to your dismay.  

“It’s not like you care.”

Your words bite, pain spreading as you regard him with such fire in your eyes.  His hands remain on your shoulders, keeping you there while he continues his interrogation.  It’s all too much, everything is falling apart in a matter of seconds.  At least that’s how it feels in your mushy little brain.

“What?”  He scoffs, offense evident in his pinched eyebrows.

“You don’t need to sit here and pity me.  I’m sure you have better things to do like mad dog me all night. ”  

It’s childish, the way that you cross your arms and jut your hip out to make a statement, but you can’t help it, especially when he had been such an ass the past few days.  You’d done nothing to instigate–at least nothing you could think of and if you had, he wasn’t manning up to communicate the issue.  The ball was in his court as far as you were concerned.

“What the fuck has gotten into everyone?”  Eddie removes his hands from your shoulders to drop his arms heavily at his sides, almost as if he had given up.  You hate that you miss the tiniest bit of warmth from his hands.

“No, what the fuck has gotten into you?”  You counter meanly.

“Me!?”  He raises his voice in the slightest but it doesn’t startle you, no, it only aggravates you.

“Yeah, you!”  You match his volume.  “You’re acting like a giant baby, moping around all day!  We’re all just supposed to put up with it cause you own the place!?”  

Eddie bites his tongue…hard.  It’s useless when his stupid brain shoves his words out of his mouth, no longer a private thought that he could forget when he managed to calm down later.

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me all week!  What, are you too busy dry humping Jett to engage in actual conversation these days?”

There are several people scattered throughout the bar but at this moment, only her and Eddie exist.  It’s not how she imagined in her daydreams.  In her daydreams they’re smiling, unable to take their eyes off each other, his eyes swallow her lovingly and his rough hands brush against her cheeks as they drink in each other’s existence.  They don’t fight, they don’t argue.  

It would be too good to be true and she knows that.  But she didn’t expect him to be like every other guy.  He wasn’t like every other guy…until now.  Until he reduced her to some other guy’s side piece the moment he disagreed with her.

“I–what?”  You breathe in disbelief.

“I didn’t mean that.”  He wishes he could turn back time and slap himself, take the words back, and apologize for his toddler-like behavior.  Real life doesn’t offer such luxuries.

“Just–”  Your words are lodged in your throat, unable to defend yourself as he pathetically dials back on his insult.

When he reaches out to place his hand on your shoulder as he had before, you wince painfully.  Because it was painful.  His touch would be enough to singe your skin except this time it would be out of malice.  You wanted nothing to do with whatever apology he was about to improvise, you just wanted him to get out of your sight so you could finish up the night, clock out and cry into your pillow at home.  

The progress you’d made with him seemed to have disintegrated like grains of sand passing through your fingers.  It was such a miniscule issue that had only become larger with each sentence exchanged, an escalating argument between immature adults who were emotionally stunted and stubborn.

“Where’s Munson!”  An unfamiliar voice calls from the front.

He ignores it, ducking his head down to catch your eyes only to be met with seething anger.  His brain was scrambling to find a solution, a quick fix to tide you over.  There wasn’t.  He made his bed and he had to lay in it.  He was in the dog house, if you even would be so kind as to provide him a dog house.  He wouldn’t blame you if you chucked him out in the freezing cold for his behavior.

“Bambi–”

“Don’t.”  You grit, pushing past him, his shoulder taking an impressive hit.

As you round the corner, it’s obvious that the four strangers lingering around the bar were Eddie’s friends.  Good.  They could be left to deal with his insufferable personality and rude comments.

“Eddie!”  One of them shouts.  He had to have been younger by a few years, maybe a college student.  His curls are tighter than Eddie’s and he has an adorable grin that you couldn’t frown at any longer as he briefly glances at you.  His attire was nerdy, some kind of polo decorated in graphics on his torso and khaki pants showcasing his unique style.  To top it off, a baseball cap with a university logo sat snugly on his head.

The others appeared to be older, their demeanor a tad more mature than the boy that had yelled for Eddie like a younger sibling.  To the right of him was a man with crazy voluminous hair, you notice how his pants fit quite tightly although it works for him.  He wore a yellow sweater that seemed so cozy, you were starting to grow jealous.  As you subtly look him over, you conclude that he has a handsome face, he was good looking, you weren’t gonna lie to yourself.  He definitely wasn’t your type but you had eyes and could admit that he was in fact cute.

To the handsome guy’s right, is a girl with striking blue eyes and freckles dotting across her face.  She sports a dirty blond bob with some messy bangs, a look that you knew would look horrendous on you but did her justice.  She wears a blue toned flannel and some blue jeans with a few tiny holes and some converse.  The grin on her face is contagious, though you really couldn’t find it in you to provide such a large smile in return, your ears still burning from your previous interaction with he who shall not be named.  

Lastly, next to flannel girl, was perhaps a supermodel?  If not she could certainly be one.  Her face was also adorned in softer freckles and her eyes were a piercing blue, but she had these brown curls that reached just the tops of her shoulders that looked so lucious and well taken care of.  Her outfit was a little bit quirky but it worked and she might as well be a trendsetter in your book.  Her skirt was plaid and pink while her sweater was lavender with several tiny flowers creating a pattern across the fabric.  She wore these boots that you’d die to have in your closet, truthfully.  

Together, as a group they were rather intimidating, especially considering you were the only individual who hadn’t met them yet.  So you idled near the bar, pretending to focus on cleaning a glass that had already been sparkling as all customers had already been served, Eddie tending to his surprise guests, leaving no room for you in the equation.

“What are you doing here?”  Eddie asks, seemingly less than happy.

Each of his friend’s faces fall, no doubt taken back by the fact that they weren’t met with an elated friend they hadn’t seen for a while, instead they were met with his wrath that was more than likely supposed to be reserved for you but happened to slip through the cracks and leak at their feet.  He didn’t have a right to be upset with you, he’s the one who took it too far.  No sympathy was spared for him in your eyes.

“To see you!”  Flannel girl exclaims, hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“Do we smell or somethin’?”  The handsome one asks playfully, a smirk displayed on his face as he pokes Eddie’s shoulder.  “What’s got you so bent outta shape?”  

Eddie sighs, visually huffing out a breath as he controls his irritation.  An apologetic expression crosses his face and you only wish he had the guts to offer you the same look moments ago.  Even if he did, it didn't fix anything.  He still practically insinuated that you had been slutting around with a coworker that you had not once even hugged.  At most, you’d awkwardly side-hugged him a few times.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry.  Just, uh, just under a lot of pressure.”  Eddie rubs the back of his neck.  “Hi, and what are you doing here?”  He asks, a tad more friendly.

“Do I get a hug?”  The younger one asks with a shit-eating grin.  You almost laugh, almost.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, engulfing the boy in a bone-crushing hug, his palm smacking down on his back which only makes the boy grunt in protest.  Then, each of them receives a tight hug from him.

“It’s called a surprise, Munson.”  The supermodel chirps, her voice gentle and sincere.

At this, you don’t know why but you can feel your teeth grinding.  Your jaw tenses, fists balling up at your sides.  You don’t even try to pretend that you’re occupied with something, that you’re too busy to even notice the interaction.  And she notices.

“You must be Bambi.” 

You hate that she seems so kind, bright blue irises full of compassion tuning in on you.  How she knew the nickname Eddie had selected for you, you weren’t sure.  What you did know is that the name only felt right falling from his lips, no one else’s.  Politely correcting her with your actual name, you can only hope she picks up on the hint.

“Nancy Wheeler.”  She introduces herself, gingerly shaking a hand that you had extended toward her.

You could play nice.  Even as you will yourself to come down from your haze of rage, you can make nice.  These people had nothing to do with what Eddie had said minutes ago, they didn’t deserve to have your first impression of them tainted by the rotten words he spat at you.

“Steve.”  The handsome one brushes past Nancy, gracing you with warm eyes and a lopsided smile, shaking your hand gently.  You wouldn’t expect it from someone dressed so preppy.

It all becomes so overwhelming-

“I’m Robin!”  The other girl chirps in excitement, pushing Steve to the side to clasp her hand in yours.  She wore a handful of delicate rings, a contrast to the chunky ones you were used to Eddie sporting.

“Hey!”  Steve protests, offense written in every line of his face as he displays his disdain.

“Dustin Henderson!”  The younger boy shoves past both of them confidently, his hand shaking yours impressively.

“We have heard so much–”  Robin begins though she’s cut off by Steve lightly smacking a hand against her stomach.

So much personality bursts from each individual before you, not one of them the least bit shy as they continuously take over the conversation from one another.  Robin’s statement only begs the question…what have they heard?  Even further questions surface the more you think about it.  Had Eddie alerted them of your existence back when you first crashed into his peaceful life?  Maybe they’d heard all bad things, all things that painted you as some idiotic girl who cried at even the mention of a confrontation.

Among your silent panic, one question crawled to the forefront of your mind, clawing its way out of the millions of other haunting thoughts.  A question that you had no right to be asking, even if only in the solitude of your brain.

Was Nancy Eddie’s girlfriend?

~end~

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[mayaflowerxs]

LESSON OF THE DAY

Synopsis: In his twenties and finally getting himself in a committed relationship means the lack of experience. And for being the best step sister you are, you help him get better by teaching him. A twisted way to have him wrapped around your finger.

Warning: SMUT . Stepbrother!Haechan x Stepsister!Reader. Cheating, swear word usage, manipulation, dumbification, jealousy, squirting, nonconsented recording, reader overall an antagonist, a hater and just not a good person. A slight Mean Girls reference ;)

Pairing: Haechan x reader

JUNGWOO

Masterlist: NCT AFFAIR SERIES

The spoon in your hand was gripped tightly. A large scowl on your face that you find impossible to cover up, eyes icy cold as you watch Haechan feed his girlfriend as if she isn’t capable of doing it herself. A scoff leaves your mouth as you manage to cover it up with a cough. Looking down at your food you continue eating. It’s not that your not happy for him, heck it’s a miracle the boy finally managed to get himself a girlfriend. The family worrying that with Haechan’s overly jokester side may result with him staying single forever and yet now that he’s finally here, with a girl by his side you really wished you’d go back in time to the times where you gave him hell for not being able to pull anyone. And now as the days go by you have no peace in your own house. Every damn day she’s here and her high pitched laugh makes your eyes roll once again, how you haven’t strained them yet is a mystery. You and Haechan don’t have the most solid relationship. I mean he’s a bit of a nerd. His friends have even created their own club because no other real clubs would accept them even though he claims they’re ‘too cool’ for the real deal. Hours constantly spent playing video games and binge watching anime. Reading whatever special edition comic book they purchased and spending all night on the phone squealing like little girls talking about their favorite part.

You were used to the boy that you constantly fought to get to the bathroom first. The one you bang on your wall to get him to shut the fuck up and the one you’ve encountered a few interesting run ins with. Several times you seen your step brother wearing little to no pieces of clothing. And while you, someone whose completely different from him. One who dares pretend you too aren’t ‘family’ because of how much of a loser he is, you have to admit he has a smoking body. One you tend to fantasize doing such vulgar things to you. Nights and nights spent locked in your room, hand down your shorts and eyes closed shut as your mind runs wild with the image of Haechan and his body. So maybe seeing him with a girlfriend is just ruining that for you. You no longer can see him as the dork who tries to prove to you that he can be considered hot. Trying to flex his arms and take cringy selfies. Now he’s Haechan, the guy with a girlfriend that can’t seem to stop sucking his face. She’s ruined him. Her disgusting lips on his, always finding a way to climb on his lap right as you enter the area. Pouting her lip injected lips to feed her and fake a baby voice to get him to do whatever she wants. He’s a loser yes but not a bitch.

And if he were to become a bitch. It certainly wouldn’t be with someone who has spent her daddy’s money to shove plastic in parts of her body that didn’t need them in the first place. And so when his girlfriend finally leaves and he comes back with a goofy looking grin on his face, you simply throw a pillow at his face to remove the idiot look off him. Without a word, retrieving yourself back to your room.

In college you’d expect it to be different from high school and in some cases yes. Thing is, the one thing that hasn’t changed yet is the status one has. Haechan is bunched with the geeks, nerds, and losers. Bottom of the list that is far from where you stand. Popular, rebellious, daring and witty. Many know you for many reasons. Good and bad and it’s why so many want to get a piece of you. To have the glory and say they got close with you. As ‘friends’ or hookups. You were seen as an ultimate trophy. And while you have a reputation to maintain, Haechan cared for no such thing. Partying? Nah. Getting high with friends on a random Tuesday? Nope. Shoplifting on a Thursday night? Nuh uh.

You don’t really understand where your mother and his father got the idea that you two would mix well. You two lived two completely different worlds, you always held some sort of resentment toward him. He was too good, too nice and too pure. You hated how caring he was. How forgiving he seems to be and it irritates the hell out of you. You practically see the bright white aura vibrating off him. But it’s also something you find endearing about him. A Friday night can end with you stumbling into the arms of said guy. Calling him in the middle of the night, pleading for him to give you a ride home and even though he told you the previous party it’d be his last time and with you promising that you wouldn’t get too drunk he still came to pick you up regardless. A hoodie over him, looking so soft and cuddly that has you craving him all over again. Wrapping your arms around him as you give his cheek a big smooch.

“Haechanie!” You squeal excitedly as you walk out the large house and into his arms. A small disappointed sigh comes from him but helps you stand regardless. “My feet hurt.” You pout, “Well you shouldn’t have worn heels and especially be out this late. Thought you promised no more.” Whining when he begins to nag, you nuzzle your face in his neck. “Carry me?” A thing you also know about the said boy is how difficult it is for him to say no. And at times like these, almost every attempt of yours end in your favor. Arm gripping behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground as he wraps your legs around your waist you try to ignore the throbbing feeling. Biting your lip as he makes his way back to his car. The lust was obviously building and the closer the proximity was the closer you just wanted to rip his clothes off him.

Coming home, Haechan managed to walk in without getting you two caught. House dark and quiet as he makes his way upstairs. You still cradled, arms secretly around his neck as your hot breath blows his skin. Chills that rises down his spine. Gulping as he tries to kick your door open and settle you down. You didn’t want to pull away, fuck you just wanted to beg him to take you right then and there. His messy fluffy hair and glasses propped on his nose was too much to you. How does the dork manage to get you so turned on? Taking off your heels and grabbing a wipe to take the makeup off. Pulling at the duvets to get you under but you whine, “Haechanie the dress.” Helping you get out of it, you lean in closer until your faces are only an inch apart. You hold back the smugness when you notice him gulp. Eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Goodnight.” He quickly kisses your forehead and walks out. A bit confused that you didn’t give back a snappy remark at how soft he is. Something you always made it clear you hated.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Another fucking day with her here, hands gripped tight as she was practically grinding her ass on him. So ticked by her presence you made your way out of the living room and into the bathroom. Dialing a number you least expected, “Hello?” Lee Jeno, one of Haechan’s loser friends. Also apart of his dorky club, also a hacker. “It’s me y/n.” You say monotonously. “Oh! H-Hey y/n, I didn’t expect a call from you.” “Were you expecting any calls at all today?” Before he can stutter out another response you cut him off. “Listen I need a number, can you find it for me?” Hearing rustling from the other line, “Yeah sure! From who?” “The mother of Haechan’s girlfriend.” “Jenna’s mom? Why do you-“ “Jeno can you give it to me or not?” “N-No! No! I can, hold on just give me a second.”

A few minutes go by before another number was dialed. A few seconds later and the phone picked up. “Hello?” “Hey! Is this Jenna?” “No, Jenna isn’t here this is her mother. Who’s this?” “Oh! Well I’m Katie from Planned Parenthood, I was just calling to say that I have her test results. Please have her call at the earliest convenience, thank you!” Hanging up the call right after, you walk out the bathroom and back into the god forsaken living room in which didn’t take much for another phone call to happen. Eyes directly at the tv screen as Jenna answered, beginning to panic when she can’t seem to make her mother calm down. “I don’t understand? What are you talking about?” You can hear the shouting coming from the other line and with a proud smirk, you quickly wipe it off as she stands up abruptly. “I’m sorry I got to go, something’s come up. Sorry babe.” “Oh it’s okay! We can always hang out tomorrow-“

“Tomorrow? But Haechanie I thought you were going to come to my recital?” You say sadly, sad eyes as you stare into Haechan’s. “Oh that’s right I did say yes to that. I’m sorry Jenna, some other time?” Nodding her head, she grabs her things and goes to lean in for a kiss but you’re quick to stand up and ‘accidently’ knock into her. “Oops I’m sorry! Man I can be very clumsy.” “It’s okay.” She whispers, giving him one last goodbye as he walks her out. When the door finally closes you relax. Watching Haechan go back to the living room, you eye him. Hands to himself and pink cheeks. It’s obvious how inexperienced this boy is and how easily flustered he gets.

Going to sit next to him, you gain his attention immediately. “Hey.” He smiles warmly at you. “Are you a virgin?” His eyes widen at the sudden question, “What? Why would you ask such a question?” He laughs nervously. Face turning red with embarrassment. The little control you had quickly goes out the window as you climb onto his lap. Hands raised as he grows rigid. “Y/n! What are you doing?!” Cupping his face you lean in closer, “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to have your dick wrapped in a nice tight hole?” Gulping, he finds it hard to place his eyes at. Too embarrassed to look at you and too flustered to look below your face. And yet pathetically, his cock hardens at your naughty words. “Don’t say such things!” He tries to scold you. “Why?” “Because this is wrong- oh!” Tilting his head back as he feels you grind on him, face leaning down to peck kisses on his neck. Tiny hairs lifting at the touch. “My pussy’s throbbing for you baby.” Shaking his head, he sets his hand in your hips. Wanting to push your away and instead keeping you in place.

“We can’t do this y/n, we’re family now.” “We’ve never been family Haechan. Don’t act like you haven’t peaked through my door while I was in nothing but in a bralette and panties. Like you don’t fuck your pillow and whine my name.” Tsking, you take his hand and shove it down your shorts. A small groan escapes him as his fingers immediately gets covered in your slick. “My baby boy is all grown up, he’s got himself a pathetic girlfriend who’s obviously trying to take things further but you won’t. Tell me Haechanie, is it cuz you never been inside a cunt before?” Moaning he drops his head to rest on top of your breast and nods. Patting his soft hair, biting your lip as his large hand grips firmly on your hips. Loving the feeling of his hands, feeling yourself slowly go crazy for him.

“Poor baby so inexperienced, you want a lesson from me mhm? Want to learn how to fuck like a man?” Nodding his head pathetically he mumbles a soft please. “Can’t hear you.” “Please y/n. Please teach me.” Satisfied with his answer, you get off his lap. About to protest but he shuts himself off when you pull him by his collar. “Let’s go to your room baby, want the memory of finally becoming a man to stay in the bed you sleep in.” Haechan was painfully hard, pants tight for his comfort and it’s sad just how quick he fell under your trap. Eyes filled with nothing but a plead to fuck him senselessly. Pushing him back on the bed as you lock the door behind him. Climbing on top of him when you begin your assault on his neck. His breathing quickening as his chest heaved. Hands going back to holding onto you for dear life, eyes closed as he savors the feeling of your lips on his skin. Growing oblivious to you pulling out your phone and propping it on his nightstand. Camera app opened and facing you two in which you press play. A little gift you plan to make for his dearest Jenna.

“Touch me Haechan. Feel my breasts.” Guiding him up to cup your boobs , love seeing the hunger in his eyes. Love how captivated you have him. Taking your shirt off to give him a better view, push up bra working wonders for you. Giggling, you wipe the slight drool that falls out of his mouth. “So cute, all needy and drooling. You want me Haechanie?” Not trusting his voice he goes to nod but you have none of that. “No Hyuck, use your words. You want me?” “Want you so much.” He whimpers. Pecking his nose, you sit up and take off your bra. Letting your breasts fall freely, grabbing his hands to squeeze them. “Play with them baby, pinch my nipples feel how hard and sensitive they are for you.” He couldn’t help but arch his hips up. His hands felt great against your tits so great it’s sending shock waves to his dick. A rather loud moan emits from you from the unexpected thrust. “Fuck Haechan do that again.”

Obeying you he lifts his hips and he too lets out noises of pleasure. Biting his bottom lip to keep him quieter but a slight slap from you as you grip his cheek. “I wanna hear you Hyuck, be a good boy and be as loud as you can fucking get.” Taking off his shirt you lean in to start sucking large red hickies from his neck, not going lower until you find his soft spot he can’t stop taking large deep breathes. A red trail going down his chest, licking right above his waistline as you look up at him. Meeting contact with him as you proceed to undue his belt. Pulling his jeans back, a wet patch there that you can’t resist to lick. “Oh fuck!” He gasps at the sudden feeling. Head thrown back as his thrusts up again. “Hold my hair back baby while I suck every last drop out of you.” You tell him and go to pull down his briefs. His hard cock springing back to lay flat on his chest. Tip red and veiny, large and screaming to be touched. Feeling bad for the many years it’s only action it received was Haechan’s hand. Feeling his warm hands come to take a hold of your hair, gentle with it as he makes sure to hold every strand of it. Watching a few drops of precum ooze out of him, a hiss coming from him when you grab his dick, hips out of control as his legs begin to squeeze you in place. A smack to his thigh has him releasing his hold on you.

“Be good Haechan.” You tell him sternly as you lick his entire underside of his dick. A loud moan can be heard throughout the room, a proud smirk as you look over to the camera. Haechan in all his glory shown naked on his bed with his stepsister giving him head. Noises one never heard come from him. Dropping your saliva down on his tip as you use your hand to cover his entire eight inches wet. Veins getting more prominent and glistening by it. Tiny little feathery kisses planted on his tip, love teasing the shit out of him. Love seeing how far gone he’s getting. How loud you can make Haechan when it’s all just begun. Love how you are pleasuring Haechan and not her. You were going to take his virginity away and you will be showing Haechan no other woman is good enough for him. A silent promise that by the end of the night, Haechan will become yours and no one else’s.

“Please!” Haechan pleads as the teasing is getting too overwhelming. Tears begin to brim his sockets as he tries very hard to not hurt you by fisting his hand. “Fuck my throat Haechan.” “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbles. “You wanna fuck like a man? Then satisfy your lady, and I say. Fuck. My. Throat.” Having no other self control, he fists your hair and begins to force his inches up your mouth. Beautiful grunts come out of him with how great your mouth felt wrapped around his cock. His hand can’t fucking compare to the warmth and wetness of your mouth. Your tongue licking his cock even when it’s brutally slamming the back of your throat. The feeling so great he’s nearing his release so soon. Feeling blessed having no reflex, you let Haechan fuck your throat until his body pleads no more. Eyes always on him and his face scrunching. Brows furrowing and Adam’s apple becoming prominent. Sweat beginning to form on his forehead, a sight heavenly to you. “Angel I’m close.” He whines. Going to pull out, you grip his hand and push it away. Gasping when you begin to bob your head, sucking your lips to tightening your lips around his large girth. Tongue flickering back and forth around his tip as your hand goes to work for the rest that can’t fit your small mouth.

Going so fast Haechan is left gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants like a mantra. Head thrown back as he feels himself pour his semen down your throat. Looking back down and falling in love with you swallowing every last drop. Licking his tip clean and opening your mouth to show him not a single drop was left. Kissing his lips, he kisses you back just as needy and with want. Growing more confident he wraps his arms around you. Pulling you closer as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. Feeling and tasting himself, large hands cupping your face as his thumbs caress your cheeks softly. When letting you pull away for air you feel sex driven like never before. You’ve never felt so much desire to fuck someone until now nor the thrill of foreplay. And yet currently in your step brothers bed, him lying obediently underneath you. You just want to fuck him all day and night, with absolutely no breaks.

But this is all a teaching lesson. Haechan can’t be experienced if he doesn’t learn and while you really just want to hop on his dick, you force yourself to be patient. “Lay back down baby.” Doing as he was told, he waits needily for your next decision. Surprised when you begin to crawl up to his face. “Wanna be good? It’s time you repay me baby, eat my pussy.” He froze, confused on what to do next and he doesn’t start working you up until he feels your hand pull him closer to you. Shocked by how well he was doing, a pro working his game as if he’s done it a million times before. Room getting louder and louder with the combination of your moans and the slurping sounds Haechan’s creating. Hands gripping you down firmly on top of his face, needier than ever and hungry for more of you. Never did he think he’d love pussy so much and now here he is going crazy for it. For you.

This wasn’t his ideal way of losing his virginity. He always wanted it to be special and for that he thought special meant romantic and soft and yet having you suffocating his face with your cunt couldn’t get anymore romantic for him. Sucking and nibbling has your thighs shaking, body screaming for the upcoming release. Mouth hanging wide as your head is thrown back. In pure bliss by his mouth working wonders. “So good!” You praise him, something you notice brings him great joy. Proven right when he begins to nuzzle his face closer, refusing to tilt his head back for a breather. Loud sucking noises are heard and your moans turn into slight screams. Hands gripping the bed frame tightly as your entire body jolts. Hips lifting off his face that he quickly pulls back down. Forcing you to take every inch of his tongue shoving its way up your hole. Walls clenching and the familiar euphoric feelings washing over you. So strong you begin to see spots. So much spots. Finally pulling away to breathe, Haechan still doesn’t stop his assault on your clit. Rubbing harsh circles to get you to cum again. The idea of squirting on his face fascinating him. And with scrunched brows, he rubs figure eights quicker and continues to lick until you couldn’t anymore.

“Baby no more - God!” Words cracking and short breathes squeaking you feel another strong build up and before you can fully process it, you’re climaxing all over his face. So wet it was underneath you. Pillow drenched and thighs covered in your essence and still Haechan took every drop gratefully. Cute puppy eyes looking up at you, silently asking if he did alright as if he didn’t just get done fucking the daylights out of you with just his tongue. Climbing off him, chest heaving as you lie on the bed on the opposite end of him. Desperate to try and catch your breath that you don’t predict Haechan’s sudden moves. Chucking the drenched pillow off the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, he leans down to suck dark hickies on your neck. A confidence you never seen in him. Taken you by surprised but still enticed by it. A hand lazily run through his now wet hair. Hips softly grinding into yours, a moan from both mouths when your sensitive genitals touch.

“Need you y/n.” He whines in your ear. Lifting his head to look you directly in the eyes. Not being able to contain himself and leans down to kiss your lips. Loving the taste of your lips, obsessed with every part of you he can’t seem to feign ignorance after today. Feeling the passion through his kisses, a loving attraction one that screams how whipped he is for you. Pupils dilated as his brown orbs showed softness. Vulnerable looking face that looks at you for reassurance and guidance. His touches so gentle and kisses holding lots of meaning, how on earth could you ever deny him?

“Fuck me Hyuck.”

He does it gladly.

“Oh ! My…f-fuck…” Haechan can’t seem to put words together as the feeling of your walls wrapping themselves around his girth. So sensitive he fears he won’t last as long as he hopes. Having to freeze and compose himself which you give him time. A hand caressing his cheek, legs spread wide for him to have as much space as he wishes. “Take your time- Shit!” You didn’t expect the sudden hard thrust into your core. Each one, another harder and faster thrust has his pelvis coming in contact with yours. Your arousal completly covering his entire dick. So wet you’re almost confident the neighbors could hear. You couldn’t control yourself, your moans keep getting louder the more your stepbrother pounds you. He knows your body so damn well in such a short time. Knows how to angle his hips to fuck the blissful feeling into you. Thighs smacking into his as his hands keep you firmly on the bed. Wanting to see your face contort into pleasure every time he plunges his cock into you. Needs to know he’s doing a good job in satisfying you.

His thrust begin to falter its pace. Sloppier and quicker as he begins to reach for his high, shaking his head as he keeps tensing. “Not coming until you do.” He says huskily, eyes drawn between your swollen cunt and his slick covered cock. How well you fit him even with how big he is, proud you took him so nicely . Like you were meant for him and only him. Leaning down to peck your forehead, even with his lustful eyes he still shows fondness for you. “My angel.” He mumbles as he begins to shake from the need to fuck his cum in you. An arm wraps behind his neck, “Cum with me baby.” You whisper to him, nodding he applies most of his weight on top of you. Arms hugging you closer to him as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Soft kisses trailing up to your neck as he keeps pounding into you, biting his lip when he is reaching his end.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He breathes out as ropes of his warm white cum shoots deep in you, a slight bulge forming in your abdomen of the tip of his dick. Releasing around his dick you feel yourself get full. When you thought it was over he continued shooting more cum into you, so much pent up he concludes. Looking down to seeing some oozing out of you. Groaning as he lazily fucks into you, a slight frown forms when he sees more of his cum is slipping out of you. Pulling out, he is quick to salvage some of it with his fingers and shove them inside you. Pecking your stomach in comfort when you let out a loud whine. Gripping the messy sheets, eyes forced shut and head laid flat on the bed. Trying your hardest to not fall into subspace.

Feeling arms wrap themselves around you, you are picked up and engulfed in Haechan’s warm embrace. Plump lips pecking your temple as he pushes back your hair from your face. “Did I do good?” He asks nervously. “So fucking good. My good boy.” You play with his hair, seeing a small twinkle. The cute adorable smile and dorkiness making its comeback to him. Cheek covered in tiny kisses from him, you lay in his chest happy you achieved your goal.

You haven’t sent the video yet. You felt it was too soon, you wanted to make sure Haechan was yours all the way and it seemed to be proven correct by the subtle touches and clinginess he shows. “I see you two are really getting along!” Your mother claps her hands happily as Haechan’s father smiles warmly. She wasn’t totally wrong. The days they aren’t home it’s spent with your back blown and Haechan close to losing his voice by how well you suck him. As the days go on it’s even gotten riskier. At night when the desires are high, you couldn’t give a damn that they were in the next room to Haechan’s. A hand covering his mouth as you bring a finger to your lips. Bouncing on his cock as the bed slightly rocks into the wall, his hands already gripping tightly and securely around your hips.

During the day when they’re downstairs doing god knows what while you’re too busy being railed by Haechan in the bathroom. A leg lifted as he fucks you up on the sink, large mirror giving you two a full view of the sins you two were continuously making. Even in the same room as them you two dared touch each other. A movie night that has you two sharing a blanket ends with him shoving his fingers in your cunt and you fisting your hand around his hard cock. Finger furiously teasing the tip. At school you two even ditch your friends to go have sex. Janitors closet, bathroom stall, empty classroom. You two were sex addicts for the other. Haechan can’t stay away from you he needs you all the time. He feels sad when he can’t hold you. Something as simple as hugging you is a necessity for him and so when his girlfriend comes around and she’s the one hogging him rather than you he can’t help but find it irritating. He wants you and only you. No woman not even his girlfriend who he thought the world of can compare anymore. He’s falling in love with you and he doesn’t know whether he should worry or not but when the day ends and he’s back in your arms he know longer cares.

And so when Saturday came, roughly awaken from his dream of you. A loud shouting coming from the front door, he isn’t as bothered for the reasoning behind it. An angry looking Jenna, phone in hand showing him the video you sent her. An hour and a half of you two fucking each other’s brains out. Eyes bloodshot and hot tears smearing her mascara, arms wrapping around his mid waist that he soon identifies them as yours. A prideful look on your face as you lay soft kisses on his bicep. You weren’t worried nor anxious. Sending her the video was just the confirmation that Haechan was now officially yours and no matter what she has to reprimand him of, he won’t care.

“How could you!”

A shrug from him, had him closing the door in her face. Turning around and smiling down at you. Both parents out on a five day business trip, five days to show each other some more how well you two mix. Five days to show you how much he loves you and five days to show him you indeed have him wrapped around your finger.

“I love you.” He plants a kiss to your lips.

“So much.”

[mysterycitrus]

would you please elaborate on your comment "renowned hack frank miller" ? i haven't read much from him yet but i like to listen to informed people tell me why [thing] sucks because it's funnier than dc wiki

when someone tells me their favourite comic writer is frank miller my response is the same as when someone tells me their favourite films are american psycho and fight club — i immediately prepare for an irish exit from the convo.

both (some of) miller’s work and those films are influential pieces of art with explicit political ideology, but while american psycho and fight club are (frequently) misinterpreted satire, miller is genuine to the point of hilarity.

if u consume batman as a character in any capacity u cannot escape miller’s influence — batman: year one is the pretty definitive starting point for most fans (and filmmakers, like matt reeves with the batman 2022), and miller’s visual style is a cornerstone for modern comics. the dark knight returns effectively changed how comics were viewed by readers, and is credited with kickstarting the modern age of comic books. i cannot emphasise that even if u haven’t read a miller book u have certainly encountered someone else inspired by his work.

with that said — miller writes like how a racist libertarian who believes his own hype would write about superheroes. greta, u must be wondering, that seems like an awfully specific descriptor to assign to someone. and normally u would be right!

the because im batman schtick that every sixteen year old nolan stan with a twitter account ran into the ground circa 2014 started because of miller, and his success in the 80s led to a number of ill advised projects fueled by his own hype. all star batman and robin was an uncritical interpretation of bruce that embodies all the worst misinterpretations of dc characters, including the justice league, that miller then tried to espouse was satire. unfortunately, he is not smart enough to punch up instead of down — the absurd hypersexualisation of women doesn’t become satire just because you’re laughing at readers in the script, frank.

this, in turn, led to one of the most virulently racist comics ever published — 2011’s islamophic nightmare fuel holy terror. he should not be taken seriously as a creative force, and he should not be the foundation of what comics should be. at least alan moore is marginally less obnoxious and fully admits that the killing joke was a bad idea.

[misaldragon]

The mercs (and others) red flags.

Saw someone else do a post like this, hated it, decided to give it a try at it. Please keep in mind this is my personal list so if you don’t agree with something that’s a-okay. I welcome constructive criticism and questions.

Scout: Talks to people who aren’t there (See the comic where Zhanna tried to bed scout), major ego (to be fair he is god's favorite but still), will pick a fight with someone for you (If you have social anxiety like i do you’ll want to shrivel up and disappear), kills people (this is just going to be a given with all the mercs), and dates might be cheap due to him spending all his money on Tom Jones merch (Scout may set aside money for dates with you if you say you want to go somewhere else though but man cannot buy a house for the two of you).

Soldier: Man is as dumb as a bag of rocks (he drank led water cut him some slack… Also dumb enough to fall for just about any scam), like scout he will also fight someone for you but be much louder and bombastic about it (please i just was to not exist, no, don’t fight the dad in front of his kids), VERY proud american (as an american, this country sucks), and will yell at you, other people, anyone, that baby in the stroller? Getting yelled at! (Generally very loud person and doesn’t care who you are… Also kills people).

Pyro: Do you collect bones? You do now (Due to Pyro vision bones are probably candy or flowers or something to Pyro… They have good intentions but my god is it scary/creepy if you don’t know about Pyro vision), bones might be animal or human bones and also general body parts (Pyro vision again), will not shower around you.. Do they shower (they don’t want to be seen without their suit on but will let you clean the suit with them in it), and will probably steal your lighters (this is going off a hunch but also stealing is not something i like… Also kills people).

Heavy: Works very closely to Medic a lot of the time (and Medic is… A lot), VERY happy to do his job (and since his job is killing people this can be concerning), maybe a bit too attentive to his guns (can certainly be off putting to see a minigun in a small bed next to a larger one), and he was out of touch with his family (as shown in the comics when he's worried about his family only to find out they have been defending themselves just fine).

Engineer: Probably a workaholic so he may forget dates (note, he’ll also do his best to make it up to you if he does and start setting up reminders for himself he’s just not used to being in a relationship because of his job), makes southern sweet tea (as someone who lives in the south i know how sweet our tea is, if you don’t want cavities from looking at a drink don’t let him make sweet tea for you), probably shot at you before (mans paranoid because of spies, don’t sneak up on him), and would pressure you to ride a bull (mechanical or not but he’d prefer it to be mechanical and one he made to make sure it’s not to much, still won't take no for an answer when it comes to this only… Also kills people).

Demoman: Substance abuse (alcohol, congrats to the original you got one right), probably mommy/daddy issues (his mom seems to be an angry elderly woman, dad is dead so it seems there's something there but that could just be me), believes in monsters/ghosts (i don’t but given how the world of TF2 works this is more a IRL issue), has probably blown himself up at least once (possible that he might blow you up if he's REALLY drunk… Also kills people).

Medic: This man is a walking red flag, made a deal with the devil more than once, stole his pet doves, stole a wedding van, puts animal organs in people, manipulative (mostly seen with the tfc team when he had to manipulate them to put animal organs in them), stole a man's skeleton, medical malpractice, probably not mentally well, will take your organs, and kills people… Probably not all of it either.

Sniper: Can skin any animal or even person flawlessly and tell you how too (creepy, and i don’t want to know), very good stalker and hunter (he does this with you because he wants to surprise you with something you like but conversation is his weak point so this is the next best thing in his mind), Pyro isn’t the only one that’ll bring you animal bones (at least he’s a bit more tactful about it, making it into actual stuff like alligator teeth necklaces, deer antler coat hanger, and snake bone coasters for a few examples), probably doesn’t shower as much as he needs to (at least he brushes his teeth… Also kills people)

Spy: Will eventually leave you like he did all his other partners (which we can see with Scout's mother since he didn’t help raise Scout), is french (must i explain?), secret past (will keep as much of his past a secret as he can but also find out everything about you he can), and he never fully trusts you (he’s a spy, it’s understandable but sad.. Also kills people).

Miss pauling: Does not have time for you (unless you join her on missions but that is a large order), doesn’t fully trust you (this is from vibes), cannot fully devote herself to you or the relationship (her loyalty is to the administrator), can kill you without anyone noticing (its just scary to think about).

Saxton hale!: Can and will fight people for you even if the person just looked at you funny ( the police have been called several times), will fight a hippy just because they are a hippy (He really likes fighting), willingly and knowingly sells weapons to mercs (man can kill and condones it), will jump out of a plane with you… you have no choice.

[gapsbetweenlovers]

little by little

——

Romance has never been a flourishing facet in Carmen Berzatto's life.

His fundamental core resembles a slice of cherry pie. The golden crust, buttered and flaky, epitomizes what keeps him grounded — his kitchen family. Admittedly, they are all guilty of spreading themselves too thin at times, including Carmen. But a snappish reminder for everyone to chill always seems to temporarily patch the breakage. No matter the chaotic blend of clashing personalities running around, there is always an unspoken level of respect, and if someone were to peel back the layers of the pastry, a sense of deep love present between the chefs would reveal itself.

And, of course, a crust is not thought to be perfect without adding a teaspoon of Sugar.

The filling, syrupy and tart, represents the heart of what Carmen does — cooking. It's his identity. From a young boy making hodgepodge recipes with his older brother Mikey, to working his way up the ranks until he was honored with a prestigious James Beard award for his excellence in the culinary arts at one of the best restaurants in the world. He'd beg to differ that last part based on his degrading and mentally taxing experience being chef de cuisine there, but he tries not to dwell on the past. Everything has led him to where he is now — managing his dead brother's sandwich shop, The Original Beef of Chicagoland, and ardently attempting to keep it afloat even when the crew is drowning. Hell, every part of the place is being sucked into the depths of despair.

The topping, latticed and bursting, symbolizes the woven pathways of Carmen's grief. Anger, anxiety, fear, and guilt all cross over one another like a mesh pattern, the cherries of his gashed heart desperately rupturing through the barrier. Mikey's suicide set up roadblocks that Carmen had never encountered before, like his grief manifesting itself in physical pain and surreal nightmares jolting him from his sleep. Most noticeable is his repressed rage. It cuts loose at work, often unannounced and uncontrollable, yelling swears aplenty and throwing objects, ranging from ballpoint pens to pots. He doesn't mean to outpour his anger onto other people, but it's busting at the seams.

So, Carmen may come across as a withdrawn, frantic chef whose ducks are certainly not in a row. In fact, they’re all dead at the bottom of a lake, pale and malnourished. But, somehow, he met someone who has thankfully never witnessed his eruptions in the kitchen and has otherwise accepted his detached and diffident behavior outside of work.

There was an instance a couple of months ago where a girl was standing at the counter, looking at the top menu with a curious expression. You looked like a classic city girl, plucked straight out of the posh suburbs and dropped into the grubby interior of a failing sandwich shop on the brink of bankruptcy. Sticking out like a sore thumb with your comically large tote bag and a shearling leather jacket, it was impossible not to regard you with concealed fascination.

Carmen just so happened to be running Front of House that day, and when he glanced up from the dingy cash register while counting singles, he had to do a double take. Angelic was the first word that popped into his pounding head. It was as if the world around him fizzled away and solely focused on you, a radiant guardian angel sent from above. He froze and went speechless until he managed to stutter out the casual question he asked every customer: What can I getcha?

Long story short, he had a brief conversation with you before he was pulled away to diffuse a fiery argument in the kitchen between Tina and Ebraheim. He learned that you lived in the suburbs of Glencoe, which he could have guessed based on your conduct. You were unruffled by the bustling interior of The Beef, which consisted of orders being loudly relayed to the chefs in the back, the ticket printer whirring constantly, and the chatter of patrons waiting for their meal. None of this seemed to scare you, which piqued his interest as he mentally recalled and stored your order with the dozen others floating around in his scattered brain.

Fast forward to today, a tiring Friday, and Carmen is finally providing you with a proper date tonight, just you and him without distractions or work obligations. Through quick hangouts during his lunch break and late-night phone calls on the verge of sleep, he decided he really liked you and wanted to dip his feet into the dating pool. He’s never had any girlfriends before, a personal choice since he prefers isolation and not giving vulnerable pieces of himself to a stranger, but because of the ease and warmth you so easily bring him, he's willing to give it a whirl. A cautious one, though.

With that being said, the best course of action for this date is to put his skills to the test and cook you an impressive dinner at your condominium.

Unfortunately, the world is working against him today.

It's already going on nine p.m., and Carmen is still at The Beef. He's sitting in his cramped office, the pathetic desk lamp shining a dim light on papers strewn about in front of him. He was supposed to be at your place at approximately seven, but he's been falling behind on inventory. The numbers blur and duplicate from his exhaustion as he hunches over the desk, his hand restlessly swiping through his disheveled hair.

Carmen settles on taking his cell phone out of his pocket, typing his extremely protective passcode of 1-1-1-1-1-1, then opens his contacts. He calls your number, a migraine slowly pulsing in his temples, ready to break the bad news that he got caught up at work and ruined the chance of a nice night. The line rings monotonously, and he bites his nails as he waits for your soft voice to greet him. He's afraid of the disappointment he's going to hear.

"Hello?"

Anxiously rubbing his collarbone, Carmen clears his throat and says, "Hey. Look, I'm so sorry. I know you've been waiting for me."

"Still at work?" you wonder, sweet and understanding.

"Yeah," he replies dejectedly. "Shit's been hitting the fan recently."

"I figured you'd be staying late. It's totally fine. We can take a rain check."

Carmen scratches behind his ear and leans back in his office chair, the rusty springs squeaking in protest. "I feel like an asshole."

Work consumes him like the blackest smoke, and it's easy to forget how to be a functioning human outside of the kitchen. He doesn't even realize all the things he repels until it's too late. Suffocation has become almost addictive.

Your voice is hesitant when you ask, "Do you… still wanna come over? Just to chill?"

Carmen contemplates by closing his eyes and picturing the two forks in the road — going home to his solitary apartment and wallowing in his numbness, or cooking dinner for a beautiful girl who makes him feel alive.

Easy goddamn choice.

"I'd have to catch the 'L' Train," he decides. "Don't know if there's a route to Glencoe running this late."

"You don't have a car?"

Carmen scrunches his face in embarrassment. "I, uh, walk to work. I live close by, and it saves me money."

"Oh, cool. I love that.” You hum thoughtfully. “Well, hey, I could maybe come and pick you up? Unless you just want to go home. The ball's in your court."

"I... you know what? I'd dig that. Yeah, as long as you don't mind.”

"No problem. I'll be there in thirty minutes, okay?"

Carmen nods, internally convincing himself that he made the right choice. That he's not going to screw this up. "Okay," he says quietly, spinning the chair in a semicircle. "Can't wait to see you. I'm sorry I've been so occupied.”

"Don't sweat it, Carm," you reply breezily. "I admire what you're doing with the place. I can't imagine the pressure you face every day. I mean, really, you and your crew deserve a lot of credit."

Carmen runs a hand down his face, a strange rush of warmth spreading through his chest at your words. When was the last time someone said that they admired him? So convincingly and generously? And when you call him Carm, his heart beats faster in a way that’s not caused by panic. What the hell are you doing to him?

The only thing he can say is, "Drive safely, okay?"

You laugh gently. "Always do. Want me to get some food on the way? You must be starving.”

"Nah, I'll make us something. I promised."

"You're very sweet. All right, see you soon.”

He whispers a quiet goodbye before hanging up and softly smiling at the ceiling.

——

As you shove open the glass door of The Beef, you're greeted by the empty aftermath of a busy, beloved restaurant. Downtown Chicago’s streetlights and outdoor neon signs cast just enough light to be able to notice your surroundings. Inside, it's eerily still and quiet, a completely different atmosphere as opposed to when it's lively throughout the day. Everything has been cleaned, perfectly polished stainless-steel sparkling and smelling like disinfectant.

There’s also a bullet hole in one of the front windows, but you choose to actively disregard it. If you don't look at it or think about it, it simply doesn't exist.

"Carmen?" you call, making your way to the kitchen.

Your echoing footsteps lead you to his office, and when you pop your head past the doorway, you find him sitting and twirling a pen between his fingers. He still has his blue apron tied around his trusty white T-shirt, and you’d be lying if you said your eyes don't immediately gravitate toward his biceps filling the material alarmingly well. And his tattoos, scattered sporadically on his arms and hands, beg for a glimpse. His sandy brown hair is raised in all directions, flat and curly all the same, as if he's been combing through the strands nonstop. His posture is that of an old man, and it's clear he is completely and utterly spent. You feel sympathy for the turmoil his mind and body go through day in and day out.

And then there are his eyes. When they find yours, you're mesmerized. They’re an iridescent shade similar to the pale blue of a misty morning sky, and they seem to always appear fatigued. Dead also comes to mind, but that's a little harsh. They are, say, hauntingly beautiful. And they sadden you, but also intimidate you, with the manner in which they bore into the windows of your soul.

"Let's get out of here," you say, smiling and nodding toward the exit.

Carmen stands, stretching, then swipes his wool jacket from the back of his chair. He loosens his apron and stuffs it in a plastic box filled with dozens more, then shrugs his shoulders into his jacket. You notice he almost drowns in it, making him look boyish and fragile. Someone you want to protect.

He shuffles next to you, placing a protective hand on the small of your back and guiding you through the twists and turns of the restaurant. You've realized he's not a touchy type of person. He takes his time warming up to people he's not familiar with, and you sincerely hope that one day he'll get to a place where he feels comfortable enough to let loose around you, flaws and all.

You both jump into your car, immediately cranking the heat because of the autumn chill that currently covers Chicago. You pull out of the vacant parking lot and drive toward Glencoe, the downtown streets lit by stop-and-go lights and vivid signs. From the corner of your eye, you find Carmen resting his head on the defrosting passenger window, his eyes fluttering shut with every second, and building, that passes by. You let him sleep peacefully, braking with the slightest pressure and making the safest turns.

When you finally arrive at your condo, a brick structure surrounded by towering elm trees, it's nearing ten p.m. and fatigue is also washing over you in tiny, pulsating waves. You kill the engine, distant sounds of squawking crows and rustling leaves filling the atmosphere. Glancing at Carmen, you find that he's slowly waking up, the look on his face telling you he feels guilty for crashing so fast. And in your car on a supposed date, no less.

You had a nagging feeling this would happen, but you're honestly not disheartened by it in the slightest. If anything, he deserves some rest after everything he has to deal with. Apparently earlier today, Richie was stabbed in the ass by Sydney, as Carmen so bluntly passed on in his text message to you.

Pray tell, you had responded.

He probably deserved it, was his honest explanation. That's all you need to know.

You unlock your door and step inside your temporary home, flicking the lights on as you drop your tote bag to the floor. Carmen has only been over two times before, and yet he makes a beeline straight to your one-wall kitchen like he lives there.

"What're you in the mood to eat?" he asks, already pushing the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows.

"You really don't have to. I know you're tired."

"No, no. Lemme whip somethin' up for you. I insist."

You cross your arms and toss ideas in your head. "Well, I've been craving a grilled cheese, actually. Think you can handle that, chef?"

A small smirk plays upon his lips. "Bread, butter, and cheese… what could go wrong?"

As Carmen searches your pantry and refrigerator for the ingredients, you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your feet while watching him effortlessly prepare your comfort meal. He's so meticulous with the way he smears butter on two slices of honey wheat bread all while fastidiously flicking on the stove's gas like he's cooking for a food critic. You grab a pan for him from the cupboard directly underneath you and set it over the flickering blue flame. His hip nudges your knee, teasingly scooting you out of his way so he can work his culinary magic.

As the bread toasts, he asks, "Where do you keep your cheese?"

"In the crisper drawer."

He nods and opens it, then tuts in disapproval. "Really? Kraft singles? You need the real shit, baby. Real, authentic American cheese. None of this processed garbage."

You hop off the counter and tug on the gold chain loose around his neck, pulling him closer. Your boldness might have something to do with the fact that he just casually called you baby. "My apologies, chef," you whisper.

His lips part, a thick silence hanging in the air. Your fingers hook around his belt loop, patiently waiting for him to initiate something. You watch his throat bob with a swallow. His eyes don't waver from your face. They hold so much hidden emotion, and you'd do anything to open the capsule to all of them.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing," Carmen murmurs, a tinge of regret swimming in his tone.

"What do you mean?"

He sighs. "I don't know. Intimacy, I guess. Kissing on a first date. Dating in general."

Your heart soaks up his insecurities. "You just have to let your body feel it," you say, your other hand sliding up his chest and into the hair that curls around his ear. “Let it come to you naturally. What is your body telling you right now?"

"It's telling me that if I kiss you right now, there's no going back." Carmen's gaze flashes to your mouth. "That I'll look back on this moment and remember that despite all the other parts of my life I fucked up, at least I did one thing right."

"Then I think you should listen."

Carmen inhales sharply and ducks his head, his lips clashing with yours, deep and hungry. His hands grip your waist, drawing you against his firm body. His nose slides next to yours as his mouth coaxes pleased noises from your throat. His own moans mingle with yours to create the perfect concoction. It's messy and uncoordinated, but it's human. Teaching him the ropes of how to let his good emotions rise up against the bad ones and bubble toward the surface.

The strong smell of burnt toast wafts your way, causing you to reluctantly pull apart from Carmen's needy mouth and blindly click on the stove's overhead fan so the smoke detectors don't wake the entire neighborhood.

"Didn't mean to be a distraction," you say coyly, backing away slowly and then spinning on your heel.

Carmen, flushed with swollen lips, says, "No worries."

Little by little, he's blooming like the petals of a rose, unfurling just for you. And he's a beautiful garden that's worth helping flourish.

——

[eskawrites]

23 👀? (if ur feeling up to it ofc 💖)

23. "Just a little longer."

(oh i was hoping i could do a lil cfdau for one of these)

-

January 1998

Robin's house is cold.

It's a nice place. It really is. It has the coziness of her place with Steve, with Robin's favorite blankets and too many couch pillows and the lamps always on instead of the overhead lights. There are touches of her here that didn't shine through as much in her old apartment. More photos on the walls, more vinyls piled on the shelves, way more candles. A stack of comics that Steve has certainly teased her about--obscure titles that Nancy suspects are Will's influence, given how close he and Robin have gotten lately.

It's nice. It's so Robin, so of course it is. But it's also cold.

It doesn't help that the winter has been bitter so far. They've gotten more ice than snow. The wind has been brutal, the sky pale and sunless. Every day since Christmas has been in the single digits.

They go out anyway, holding hands while they wait for coffee or meet for dinner. Paparazzi photos keep showing up of the two of them, and though no one ever dares to say something for certain--girlfriend seems to be a dirty word to the press--everybody loves to speculate.

It's not just the press, though. Nancy had a meeting scheduled over dinner just last night. It had been a big deal, with big names she'd been looking forward to potentially working with. An assistant had called her last minute to cancel. There's no way to know for sure why, but one look at Robin when Nancy had told her confirmed that they were thinking the same thing.

Robin had offered to take her out, to take care for her, to do anything she could to cheer Nancy up. They'd ended up curling up in Robin's bed, huddled beneath the heavy comforter, Robin's arms strong and warm around her.

They're there still, because even though the morning is half gone, the house is so damn cold, and the world beyond it is even colder. Nancy burrows further into Robin's embrace, pressing her cold nose against Robin's warm collarbone, and pretends like she can weather the winter if she just stays here forever.

"I'll make us breakfast," Robin offers, though she makes no move to dislodge Nancy and get up. Nancy makes a soft sound, something pathetically akin to a whimper, and digs her fingers into Robin's sleep shirt to keep her in place.

Robin's sigh is soft, understanding, but she tries again. "And coffee. Warm coffee, Nance."

Robin knows exactly how she takes her coffee, makes it so perfectly that Nancy will sometimes drag her feet in the mornings just so Robin will make it for her. Robin sees through her, of course, but she always presses the mug into Nancy's hands with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, so Nancy supposes she doesn't mind.

It's almost tempting, but it's not enough to make her want to move. So she doesn't. She lies there, eyes closed, not even trying to summon the energy to shake away the hollowness that has been in her chest since last night.

Robin rubs her hand up and down Nancy's back. "I'm sorry, Nance. I really am."

That makes her stir. She lifts her head to press against Robin's neck instead.

"Not your fault," she says, quiet but firm. She presses her lips against Robin's skin, just as soft, just as certain. Robin sighs again.

"It still sucks, though."

Nancy hums in response. Hence the moping in bed.

"But we both have the day off," Robin continues. "We can do whatever we want."

"Don't want to," she mumbles. She's distantly aware that she's pouting now, but she can't bring herself to care. Not when Robin is all she wants, and Robin is all she has, and Robin is the only person who really, truly understands.

"Nance..."

"Can we just--can we stay here?" Nancy pulls back to look up at her pleadingly--desperate, suddenly, to cling to this moment beneath the covers, this one chance to shut out the chill of the world. "Just a little longer?"

She's never had to ask, though. Not really. Robin's eyes are soft when she nods. She pulls gently on Nancy, and Nancy rises enough to kiss her softly, slowly, with all the warm, steadying assurance she's still getting used to having.

"We can stay as long as you like," Robin whispers when they part. Nancy hums again and settles back against her. Her fingers come up to comb lazily through Robin's hair.

"Will you still make breakfast when we get up?"

Robin smiles. "I'm sure I can be convinced."

[charmwasjess]

This unstable spring weather is reminding me of when I was a teenager, I had a massive, irrational phobia of tornadoes, despite growing up in an area with little to no chance of them. It was so bad that my mom took me to a psychologist because I'd do irrational things like hide in the bathtub instead of going to school if there was any chance of severe weather. It didn't help. Every time the sky got dark, I'd get that weird, frantic, achy-itchy feeling.

And then, one day, I'm sixteen, working my first job at a coffee shop and I get a panicked call from my boss. I look out the window and almost comically, like it showed up just for me, to make some point, there's this beautiful white tornado dancing right towards us. I remember thinking it looked like the skinny part of an hour glass. It's true what they say about them appearing to hold still when they're heading for you, so I got a very good look at it. The trees were bending flat to the ground and the double doors of the shop were getting sucked open. Me and the other teenaged employee crowded the kids (we were also an ice cream shop, there was a birthday going on) into the center room, and we sang "happy birthday" over and over again to drown out the sound of it hitting the building. We were okay, but it took off several adjacent roofs and smashed up cars in the parking lot.

This was a weird way to start loving tornadoes. (cut for weather geekery)

They are like dreams - for all the data, we know relatively little about why they happen. We can see their ingredients: moisture, atmospheric instability, wind sheer, but sometimes all those pieces are in place and a tornado won't form. In fact, most often, it doesn't. They're still rare. The language we use to talk about them endlessly fascinates me: they are born out of thunderstorms called super cells, which have a 'lifecycle.' One thunderstorm can birth a single tornado, or many that live and die along the greater lifespan of the thunderstorm. The way they multiply is fascinating, one tornado can be circled by wispy, smaller, satellite tornadoes, or more rarely, two full-sized tornadoes side by side, a pair of twins. A group of tornados is a "family."

They come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a skinny rope funnel, and a relatively weak example - F1 on the scale. The 1925 Tri-State tornado, F5, the strongest on the scale, was the longest recorded tornado in history with a 219-mile track. Part of the danger of that storm was that nobody even realized it was a tornado until it was right on top of them because it was so huge: it was said to look like a red, boiling fog from horizon to horizon because it was rain-wrapped, and had sucked up a lot of red river mud. Water tornadoes and fire tornadoes are both a thing.

They behave inconsistently too. The El Reno tornado that killed the storm chaser and scientist Tim Samaras in 2013 is often personified as evil, a storm set out to kill storm chasers, because it seemed to behave with particular, intentional nastiness. In 30 seconds, it went from a small tornado to a 2.6 mile wedge. It's hard to even imagine the scale of something like that: someone observing from a safe distance miles away is suddenly inside the literal tornado within less than a minute. Most tornadoes move in a more or less straight trajectory - this one repeatedly changed directions. But this is just another example of how even when scientists know how tornadoes generally behave, we're still figuring them out.

Of course, all of this is not about overly romanticizing a phenomenon that kills a ton of people each year, a fact that is only going to get worse with climate change. And certainly research funding and money for early warning systems or national weather services being less prioritized in the politicization of climate change.

I still have tornado nightmares a lot. I had one last night, which is I guess why I'm still thinking about the shapes. It's always the same: I'm standing in a house, usually my childhood home, and there are families of tornadoes that go right past it, but never hit. I still think they're so interesting. And it's funny the way anxiety can turn into fascination under the right circumstances.

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Heavy Voice - Diablo 4

I want it out there and on the record that I have known since the first days of the Open Beta that the weird half-dead wolf character was Mephisto. That's a legitimately proud moment I have as a lore enthusiast. The rune carved into his skull was a dead giveaway, appearing in the Book of Adria as a symbol connected to Mephisto. And boy... was it.

I just wanted to make this comic to say that I think Mephisto's voice just doesn't fit in D4. Do not get me wrong, it is an awesome voice, it is powerful, malevolent as all hell, and there is just a soft gurgling undertone to it that brings it all together. Steve Blum is the man! But my guy, I picture a body behind that voice that has actual weight to it. Have you seen Mephisto? He's a literal bone collection, he probably weighs less than a skinny adult human! I am convinced the VA was cast for the wolf, not Mephisto's real appearance. The strangest part is that Mephisto had the perfect voice in the past!

No, not Diablo 2.

Diablo 3! Listen! I have always loved this voice, every time I find this lore entry during a playthrough, I am so happy to listen to him! It's not a weighty voice, it sounds old, which fits because Mephisto is the eldest among all the demons, the Firstborn of Tathamet, basically. And to me it sounds like a cunning evil, especially with his last sentence being "Some battles can only be won with words". Now can a voice like this carry an entire main-entry game with him as the second big bad? A good question, I honestly have no idea. Maybe it really would not work on the long run, but certainly they could have found something closer to this than the Bass King in D4.

Okay but then why do I like Malthael's voice? That's incredibly deep too, and the guy looks like two french fries duck-taped together.

Well, first of all, Malthael is not that skinny actually. He appears so because of his design (which is genius, btw), but if you've tried to learn to draw him well, you realize he has some meat under that armor. I am certain he is what one might call a "sleeper build". Second, it's kind of hard for me to put it into words, but Malthael's voice has an empty echo-y subtone and feel to it that makes it far less weighty in my ears (and also shows just how far he has fallen). I don't know, does that make sense?

Either way, that was my deep dive into the Diablo franchise VA scene, thank you for coming to my TED talk! I still am very much looking forward to Vessel of Hatred, and to finally murder Mephisto once again as well. I don't hate him as much as Lilith, but I am sure he will earn it by the end of the story, whenever that will be.

If you have any voices that you love or hate, share them with me! It's fun!

Other Diablo 4 adventures!

Suck it, Butcher!

A Team to Fight For!

2023.11.11.

[alegacyofmonsters]

Legacies 1x04 Rewatch:

Just seeing all the comic book decor in MG's room makes me so sad that we never got to see him and Landon geek out together

The amount of (lame) TVD cameos in S1 was wild considering they did not keep that energy up

If I had a nickel for every time the Salvatore School made a fake exchange program with Mystic Falls High over a murder, I'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice

"Who are you and what did you do with Hope Mikaelson?" Just you wait ...

The blatant use of TVD scenes for the exterior shots of MFHS and they couldn't even match the green filter of Legacies

Lizdon best friendism!!!

"Try not to deliberately alienate the entire student body." "I tried to be her friend when I was five and when I was nine and when I was thirteen." "I'm sorry we couldn't see why you were hurting back then." SCREAMING.

"Would you like to be the Robin to my Batwoman?" "Batwoman doesn't have a Robin." "Metaphor." FOR LESBIANISM.

"I'm working on offensive spells." Maybe we should've known she was blood thirsty from the start

Rosie and Finsie both have a breakfast scene BUT NOT JANDON OR POSIE. WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?

No because how did Josie have Raf so wrapped around her finger and still manage to come up with a fake sob story about Lizzie winning him

Baby Handon, my beloveds

Hope 🤝 Lizzie 🤝 Accusing MG of failing at compulsion

Lizzie being so grossed out by MG's unrelenting advances and him STILL not getting the message. Oh I hate what this rewatch is doing to my best boy.

"Dana is dead." Oh no ... what are we gonna do ...

"I expect you to be with Hope when I do" hits so much harder knowing about 4x06

"You are a horrible liar." "I suck at lying." Okay Lizzie I see you

We were robbed of Cheerleader!Hope, even in an AU

I still need someone to edit "They're a gift from Cheryl" into a Hope Mikaelson x Cheryl Blossom edit

"Relax, Eeyore." Hope, your Lizzie is popping out.

"I don't even like any of you" but we all know who she's best friends with in the Human AU

Jed truly was terrible in the beginning. Like who is that? I don't know him. Bully!Jed isn't real unless you believe in him.

"I'm a feminist." You're a liar is what you are actually.

I really do miss S3 actual feminist MG. Bring him back to me already.

The casual Dana E.D. jokes were ... certainly a choice for a 2019 show ...

The Kaleb x Landon dynamic deserved more

"Years of practice with Lizzie" and we never once get to see it. Like??

"You're dead if you don't submit." I'm sorry but like has a werewolf student ever actually been murdered for not joining the pack? I feel like we would've heard about that.

"It's Sasha." Was Sasha even at the flag football game? How do they know her?

BASES IT OFF OF GREEK LORE. OH THE GREEK GODS SET UP WAS THERE. IT WAS THERE.

"My money's on your boyfriend." "He's not my boyfriend." She just wanted to hear you say it, sweetie.

"Whatever spun this is gonna come back and eat us." We couldn't be that lucky. Imagine how much better the series would have been.

I still ship Connor x Josie. I don't care.

Landon rushing in to save Josie. Oh Jandon serves whether you want to admit it or not.

The S1 Core 6 did not get enough scenes together

THE MOMENT IT ALL CHANGED FOR LIZZIE. OH GOD OH GOD. HOLD ON TIGHT.

THINGS ARE SHIFTING.

"I'm a twin. I don't do anything solo." You just spent the entire episode without Lizzie because being a hero is too much pressure??? You spent the whole last episode apart from her too???? It's only the fourth episode?????

It's almost laughable how much Josie lies. Like every other word out of her mouth is straight up false and she knows it.

Still think Jed x Rafael should have had a thing.

I miss this Handon angst. THIS. THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF. Not the circular conflict they got stuck in later.

"Being a hero is not more important than being safe." This is your suicidal daughter, my dude. She does not care about being safe.

"She thinks she's too good to give you the time of day." Actually it's

"Don't disrespect her like that. We got enough monsters out here as it is. We cannot become one of them." MG YOU DIDN'T DIE THE HERO. YOU LIVED LONG ENOUGH TO BECOME THE VILLAIN. GOD DAMN IT.

Wait a minute. Josie was stuck in a spider web, almost dying, and Landon saved the day instead of Penelope Park making an appearance? Penelope would have never.

"If you threaten my kids, Sheriff, I'll be the one coming for you." No, maybe I get it. Maybe I do still get the attraction.

[insurrection-writes]

SINCERELY | TVD

"i would live this life a thousands more times just to meet you."

"i wouldn't."

Two.

Parts : ONE TWO THREE …

a/n: this part really sticks with me still, even though I wrote it many months ago. the emotions I tried to convey with a little shitty poetry seem to work, so yay! i have a few little unfinished “chapters” after this that I’ll start working to finish on my next day off. not promising anything consistent but i feel the itch to write at the moment.

Sunlight dwindles into dusk. Blue fades into hues of pink and orange, only to be extinguished into the darkness of night. With twinkling stars reflecting into dripping wetness from her eyes, Mauve cries.

Soft, inaudible sobs. Lightly bubbled in her chest, yet heavy weighing on her soul, spilling out between the hands clamped over her mouth to quiet sounds that no one would hear either way.

She cries for what she has lost. She cries for what she will never gain. She cries for everything and nothing all the same.

That anxiety would never fade. The fear and paranoia of being found would stick, even after death. In a house so silent you would swear to hear imaginary things, the thought of breaking this silence was stricken enough.

She cries, yearning for physical touch. She cries for comfort. She cries for everything.

The memories that still haunt her. The routine thoughts and actions that kept her safe, not needed but still followed. The first of many times, and the last of many failures to protect herself.

She cries, starving for validation. She cries for reprieve. She cries for nothing.

Cries fade, tears dry, a stuffy nose and tired eyes. Trained on the wall, unfocused, she gets a sense of deja vu.

The realization of yet another depressing episode commencing startles her.

It shouldn't be this way. She should be fixed.

Shes not.

A radio stationed on the window sill, it's sounds bleeding out into the garden. Soft melodies a constant, never an ad or talking voice.

The rush of water from the hose, being directed over the plants. Soaking into the soil, trails of water following its own paths into the planting bed.

Leaves rustling in the wind, branches swaying from the force. Whispers of squirrels and other woodland creatures chattering in the distance.

In this peace, Mauve settles her mind. It's been 36 days since her break down. 508 days since she arrived here.

Some days are better than others. She has stopped wondering how and why. She's just thankful for the quiet.

Her quiet oasis. Floating in the rift between worlds. Peaceful and soul healing. Something of a cosmic joke and miracle rolled into one.

Her quiet oasis. Until it's not.

She hears it before she sees it. The ruffle of feathers and squawking of birds hitting the sky. The thunderous hooves of wild deer rushing through the forest.

Trees grounding from added weight and tumbling to the ground. Underbrush being ripped from it roots.

It last for many seconds until it quiets. Unsettling silence. The paranoia ticks in Mauves brain. This is different. Unwelcome.

Until something breaks the silence. Branches snapping, leaves rustling against something large. It breaks the tree line.

A wolf. A very large wolf.

It's almost comical in size. She's watched enough animal planet in her time to know that wolves are larger than dogs, but certainly not this large. It's towering over her, it's shoulders above her five foot six inch head. At almost 15 yards away and separated by a fence, a thrill of horror still bites down Mauves spine.

This cannot be real.

It sniffs the air, it's heavy claws tearing the grass beneath it. She sucks in a slow breathe, her mind entering fight or flight.

Slowly backing up, cautiously, to the kitchen door. She stumbles, mistaking the number of steps, and brushes against the gnome on the bricks. Sending it toppling over, clattering to the ground. Splintering into tiny pieces as the wolfs head snaps in her direction.

It's hackles raised, teeth bared. As Mauve wrenches open the door, throwing herself inside, this beast takes into a full sprint, crossing the distance in seconds before slamming itself into the invisible barrier.

She watches from the window as it tries again and again to slip past some magical force just feet away from her fence that would've been just a step to this monster.

Still staring outside, Mauve wonders why she seemingly recognizes it. She wonders why a random wolf would seem so familiar.

When it stops and breathes heavily for a few moments, it's pounding breathes slowing as it sits, turned to face the window she occupies, that she realizes.

Electric yellow eyes meeting her stormy blue.

She knows those eyes.

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 057: Dazzler + Black Cat Always Lands On Her Feet (ASM 203-206)

MASTERPOST

Hey, today we're finishing up Marv Wolfman's run! I'll give my thoughts at the end.

There was supposed to be some Spectacular issues before this post, but I wanted to get on with it, so here we are.

Really cool cover, by the way.

Spidey thinks this lady's chased by Will O' The Wisps, but she faints when he rescues her. When she wakes up, she doesn't seem to know that name...

I don't know anything about Dazzler (except... she's a X-Men), but she seems really cool and original. She also gets away from him, good for her!

YES. THIS IS ALL I'M ASKING. Peter interacting with his friends half-dressed! I'm a simply guy.

Betty and Peter were never a thing recently though. Like, can we really say they "broke up" when... they... weren't together? They had a vague fling but that's it. And they're going to see Star Trek, that's nice!!! I'm almost at the ending of DS9 season 3. Haven't watched the other shows, and I'm very slow, but still, I enjoy it.

Meanwhile, Dazzler gets hit by her mysterious enemy... the Lightmaster! Back from SSM. OoOoOh, I'm scared.

The basic thing is, he needs light, and she produces light. It was only a matter of time! Their interactions blow up the nearby cinema, and Peter quickly becomes Spidey once again.

The fight is fun!

Well that sucks for her, because her power is really cool. I love that she gets energy from concerts.

Spidey saves Dazzler, but she's still hell-bent on eliminating him!

Nice panel!

He escapes her by webbing her eyes. A classic!

Oh I'm sure he'll get to a bottom alright.

We get a quick update on Aunt May: she's not dead, and she's even getting better! Crap.

Spidey surmises that Dazzler got possessed by the Lightmaster, but he's a dumbass.

He eventually saves her with that big machine, and when Dazzler asks how she can repay him, he says they'll figure something out.

Let's hope it's a concert ticket he's asking for. In the comments, people were quick to notice the innuendo (the line coupled with their immediate physical intimacy certainly implies *things*.)

Now, onto Black Cat's return in 204!

Our story starts with Black Cat, apparently alive (who doubted that?) and taking pictures of our favorite wall-crawler. Then she gets in a museum to steal a cute statue of a couple, but she's interrupted.

I love those kisses, it's ridiculous, but lovely. And that cat shadow!

Spidey arrives too, and the cat shadow gimmick continues!

I love it!

She escapes, and Peter ponders about how attractive she is. I'm ready for this couple! I'm ready!!!! Curious to see how it goes!

At the Bugle, Robbie's accepted to lead the newspaper in place of Jameson. He's become a changed man! Very irascible.

BUT WHO DO WE SEE AGAIN?!

RANDY!!!!! MY BOY!!!!! I MISSED YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meanwhile, at Felicia's place...

Oh, I love this. It's so silly, but so good!

At the Globe, Barney tries to push Peter and April closer. I'm not against April being less bitchy.

Later...

Felicia's not being very slick there, but it's comics, so whatever. That left panel of Peter changing, though? Very erotic.

I'm glad to see Flash and Sha Shan again... I don't remember Cissy, maybe she's in Spectacular. Sounds inconsequential either way. But this new date, Dawn Starr... Very 80s haircut right there. Not sure I'm a fan, BUT she immediately says she's into Peter, so you know.

Oh, but it gets better! She's a science major (another one!) and... she's one of Peter's students! I'm into that, I like the drama. Peter's not of the same mind, though. He's already got enough drama as is!

By the way, I'm not completely fond of this issue's colors... We'll see how it goes...

At the Guggenheim museum, Spidey and Black Cat have another fight.

Oh, she's a funny one for sure. The writing's becoming more horny, and I'm also here for it.

Once again, the Black Cat gets away, but with the statue this time! Oh, and we get news on Jonah! He's amnesiac now. "Jonas Harrow" says he's gonna help him, but he's got those terrifyingly goofy glasses that indicate he's not a nice guy.

Black Cat steals another thing (and is quite disappointed that she saw no resistance from the folks there), and we get a promise that the next issue will have a surprise ending. A kiss, a kiss!!!!

YES.

Marv Wolman's run is officially finished at this point! David Michelinie's a guest writer for 205, but his run will occur about five years later. Let's see how he fares here.

That's a really beautiful panel.

At Peter's workplace (the university!), he finds Dawn...

We got a kiss! I didn't expect him to go down that line, though. But I'm here for the messiness. I presume it won't last long...

Peter thinks things are looking up on him, but that's not exactly a sentiment I share.

Spidey and Black Cat have a little fight again, and she gets away again.

Later, at the Daily Globe, Peter meets Pamela Dean, society editor and possible new love interest? What is going on here?

Did Peter breaking up with MJ finally open his dating prospects?

There's a solid theme of love going around in these issues. Black Cat targets art about love, Pamela Dean wants to write a story about an artist who does romantic and erotic art... This feels like a new era.

Peter's convinced Black Cat's building a shrine to her father with those thieveries, and I think he's completely wrong about that. The likely actual person she loves is... well, Spider-Man, of course.

Love these panels.

At his office, Peter finds an intruder... and our dear miss Dawn is welcomed by none other than Spidey!

.

.

.

Iran? What the heck, Peter.

Oh, Peter... (He looks so cute when he's angsty.)

Hey, does anyone know if this area really exists? I'm curious. Ross Andru drew real buildings, so...

So Felicia's exchanging the art she stole for the Helen Epistle, a love letter to Paris from Helen of Troy.

Just kidding! She's actually stealing that one too.

Meanwhile, Peter has an appointment with Bellflower, the erotic art collector that Felicia just threatened. He seems busy, and Peter smells the ruse.

Do you know what else is jangling?

Anyway. BC and Spidey have another confrontation, BC escapes, but Spidey tracks her and is completely surprised to see he was wrong about Felicia's daddy issues.

I love her expresssion on the left!

... You know what, that's actually a solid ending, because at first, Peter didn't care about his responsibility (the Dawn kiss), but then he got the backlash from that (disappointment and betrayal), so here, he chose to do the right thing. That's good.

206 time! Roger Stern is here. He'll stay for a while. I've seen people say to skip the Wein and Wolfman issues, so I'm curious to see what Stern brought to the game.

Turns out Jonas Harrow, who also created Hammerhead, the Kangaroo and Will O' The Wisps in the first place, is the one who's been making Jonas mad. He used rays or something on Jonah's office, which explains why Robbie was irritated last issue!

I'm sure Jonah will be back to his old self anyway... but I kinda like how it ties up neatly this background arc that has been running for like, ten issues at this point. Neat! Didn't expect it either.

At the Bugle, Robbie and Marla discuss what to do regarding Jonah's disappearance, but Jonas Harrow doesn't like this and turns up his rays. They get in a fight, and when Peter intervenes, he pushes them away rather violently.

Ew.

The rays cause everyone to be angry, but Peter activates the fire alarm to make them evacuate the building. Smart!

He eventually finds and breaks the rays emitting gadget, and then Harrow dares him to fight him. When he sees Spidey, Jameson gets his memory back. Much more effective than Harrow's tentative treatment!

I love the middle panel, but this is also why I cannot bring myself to care about Jonas: he sucks.

So... Marv Wolfman. Definitely an improvement on Len Wein if you consider the entirety of their runs, as it's more consistently solid.

I did love the graduation issues, the relationship drama, but the May arc was annoying, although I can appreciate the ambition. I think my problem lies moreso with the corresponding Spectacular issues, but it wasn't Wolfman, so...

I just feel like Wolman's cast isn't coherent the way Stan Lee and Gerry Conway's were. Still, there was an attempt to emulate Lee and Ditko's style at some point. Jameson was faaaar too involved in all of that to my liking, but it was a bit original at least, compared to previous times. Some characters acted out of character too (Ned and Harry)...

It's not a perfect run, and I don't gel well with Wolfman, but it was alright. Good, even.

Welcome, Mister O'Neil. Show me what you've got!

[scottxlogan]

Sinister Secret #5 references Scott and Emma sleeping together. Also before one of the Hellfire Galas Emma talks about Scott not staying over because she was so stressed she wanted to sleep alone. She also talks about him not liking that she sleeps in diamond form.

Hey anon!

I'm going to put this under a read more so not to make everyone have to scroll through this:

Let me preface this by saying I'm not anti-Scott/Emma (and if you followed my blog, which I don't know if you do nor do you have to, you'd see that as I've posted a lot about them through the years. Shipped them myself and do read the comics so again that's not what my rant was about), but to address your comment in regard to the Sinister Secret #5

It's ambiguous just like everything else has been in the Krakoa era. I personally took it as Scott's sleeping with Logan as well since they were trying to sell the poly ship between Scott/Jean/Logan and the comics were clear to indicate that those three were certainly up to something with one another. Again though, it was open to interpretation and ambiguous at best so there's room to think Emma too was a part of it and in the link I posted below where I had a very in depth conversation with another respectful Scott/Emma fan who offered up some points, you can see that I'll concede to the fact that Hickman seemed to be wanting the four characters to interact with one another in a romantic setting, but as soon as Hickman was gone it felt like it was over and Scott/Jean became the main focus (with a little side of Jean/Logan tossed in around other areas). They shut the poly ship down, which sucks and we'll never get a clear view of what was from it.

That being said the panels you mentioned about Scott staying over are in the post I linked and it doesn't say anything about him wanting to stay over that night. Just talks about Emma thinking about Scott saying she was cold in her diamond form and her reflecting on what he does and doesn't see in her and her inner monologue. To me it could be taken as sure they're together now or it could be from their past time together. It's deliberately ambiguous as was everything in this era and on the flip side as I mentioned in the link below when Scott said out of his lips the following conversation: "It's all that hair. Too hot for covers and it's too cool without them." (see below) thus indicating Scott was sleeping with Logan to know how Logan's body temperature was the internet exploded and haters kept saying that means nothing. That it means absolutely nothing in terms of them sleeping together, so if that means nothing for Scott/Logan then one could argue that the Emma thoughts about Scott saying her diamond form is cold could mean nothing too.

If it does mean something and says that Emma/Scott were still sleeping together, then the same rule applies to Scott/Logan here as Scott seems to be well versed on Logan's body temperature from personal experience. That being said I'm not trying to be anti-Scott/Emma at all and the post I've linked below is better at referencing this, but like seriously all I'm going to say on the matter further is that aside from the panels of Scott/Jean, Logan/Jean and Tony/Emma clearly sleeping together they've left everything up in the air with the characters and we shippers have our own head canons about what is and what should be, but the writers have deliberately left a lot of it ambiguous to give without truly giving. I think Hickman tried to give to everyone but got shot down and now, well, now I don't think the poly ship even exists anymore per editorial, but I do see that Scott is with Jean and Emma is with Tony and no matter how anyone feels about it (and believe me we all have strong opinions about each pairing) for now that's what is being written. I do like Scott/Emma together even though I personally believe after (maybe) Hickman they weren't together on a romantic level anymore and weren't given an opportunity to be of any kind of romantic status.

That said I also like Emma/Tony together as well. Again, highlighted in the link below probably better articulated than this is, but for those who want to skip the long text my complaint was about the Twitter fans who wished Emma death instead of being with anyone other than Scott. That's sick in my opinion and you can't change my mind on that. If you love Scott/Emma then fantastic. They rocked as a couple. I loved them too once and they made an amazing pair for a while before Bendis ruined it. Maybe one day they can do it again, but to those extreme fans who would rather Emma dead than finding any happiness outside of Scott, I think they need to get their priorities in check and grow up. They were who I was speaking out against, not Scott/Emma fans and if that wasn't clear before I'm making it clear now before I stop talking about this subject as I'd rather focus on other things in fandom that I you know actually enjoy right now :)

Thanks for the comment and hopefully you're having a great day anon and all is well with you!