#if it was meant to be a comic it would’ve been a comic.

[luveline]

Jade omg i love coworker james so much!! I was hoping i could request them taking the elevator up to their office together and it breaking down and them being stuck together!! Super cliche but i think it could be really cute and fun and that you’d write it so well!

You decide today is the day you stop pretending to forget something in your car. James has been nice lately. He does still hide your mug everyday, and he acts like an idiot at your desks. Just yesterday he made a parachute for one of his little figurines and made it land in your lunch. But he keeps saving you when you’re in trouble, and he might think he has to do it but it’s not true. 

If something goes wrong, James is the one who helps you out. Maybe it’s proximity, but maybe he’s just not the jerk you pegged him to be. 

So you’re being brave. You get out of your car, to James’ surprise, and you give him a teeny tiny smile. “Morning,” you say, making your way to the office steps, and following closely behind him. 

“Morning,” he says, looking back. He holds open the door for you without further comment. 

You walk in through the building’s lobby and past the main receptionist to the twin elevators. There’s a downstairs to the building, the lab, where the company conducts their water safety testing, and an upstairs where you and James and your colleagues work. He hits the elevator button on the right, you both wait for it to come down. 

“Did you see about that movie?” you ask. 

“I did!” He laughs at himself generously. “You’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” 

“Crazy, if you gave me like, two more seconds before you interrupted, I would’ve specified.” You catch yourself scowling and soften your expression. “You know, the movie you told me about with the aliens that can hear you from ten miles away.” 

“Oh. What was I supposed to see about it?” 

You should’ve waited in the car. The elevator descends and the doors open. James waits for you to go in first before he follows, and you let him click your floor number as you lean against the mirror. 

You elect to wait in silence as the elevator chugs up, and up, and.

It stops short with a horrible sharp sound you’ve never heard it make. 

James looks at you, then the control panel. The doors don’t open. “That’s fucked,” he says hotly. 

“We stopped too early, right?” 

“No, no way.” He clicks the open door button, waiting approximately half a second before he starts to spam it. 

“Wait, what if you mess it up?” 

“Mess it up? It’s stuck.” 

You glare at him. “It’s not stuck.” 

“It’s stuck.” James slams his hand into the emergency button and waits with a frown for it to ring. “Hello?” he asks. 

“James, it’s still ringing.” 

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” he says. 

You hide your smile. You’d been unnerved by the sound, sure, but the elevator isn’t creaking or whining, it’s just stopped. There’s an inkling of worry growing in your chest. You’re perhaps a smidge too tired to panic. It’s barely 8AM. 

And James’ reaction is wildly comical. He glares at the control panel and rings the emergency button again, and again. Nobody answers. After a few long seconds of this, the control panel goes dark, backlit numbers fading. 

The overhead light blinks out. 

It’s quite dark without it. 

“What the fuck?” James asks. Surprisingly, he sounds less panicked than before. “The electrics gone. A power cut?” 

“It’s really dark,” you say unhelpfully. 

“If only I had one of my darling Smiskis to light up the lift.” James takes his phone from his pocket and turns on the torch, your eyes aching but then thankful for the added illumination. You can see his face again, the tug of a brow too handsome to be meant for grumpiness, and the confused pout of his lips. He has a lovely face, with sweet eyes, dark brown hair framing it, and the aura around him when he’s smiling is lovely too.  He’s a little less lovely when he frowns, but not by much. “I’m gonna shout,” he warns you. 

You and James spend that first half an hour believing the lift to be a short problem. Then another half an hour on the phone to Remus and then your boss, who assures you both that the maintenance team will fix it within the hour. “Within the hour?” James says to you where you’ve sat cross-legged on the floor. “Within the hour? How long do they think we’ve been in here?” 

“Maybe we can call the fire brigade to come and save us?” you suggest quietly. You and James are in very close quarters. His shouting has hurt your head. 

“They might have to. Why does nobody know what’s wrong with the lift? Are they really that complicated?”

James sits down beside you dejectedly. The lift is snug, but there’s room for him to sit further away that he doesn’t use. 

“You okay?” you ask. 

“Fine.” 

You open your bag in your lap and unveil your thermos. It comes with a cup as the lip. “Do you want some hot chocolate?” 

James tips his head back against the wall. “Yes,” he says, “okay. You never finished telling me about the alien movie anyways. What’s the news?” 

You smother a smile. “I’m not telling you. You should’ve listened to me the first time.” 

For some reason, you don’t argue once in the two hours you spend stuck. Not after the initial bickering. You drink your hot chocolate and you end up sitting together watching the trailer for the movie on your phone, and neither of you move away after. That is, until the elevator flicks back on and the doors are being pried open —you spring apart, caught red handed enjoying each other's company. 

[obstinaterixatrix]

the thing about story mediums is that I don’t consider myself having ‘control’ per se over the best medium for a story. if it comes out better in writing that’s how it’s meant to be, if it comes out better in visuals that’s how it’s meant to be. sometimes there’s overlap like drawing comics or writing scenes but there’s A Reason it ends up one way or another. that’s just how the story comes out.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

Favorite Jason images

Batman #410

His eyes hold galaxies within them but still reflect such pure childhood innocence. Poor kid’s naïveté and trust are going to be subjected to so much exploitation in the upcoming issue and the future in general.

Alfred having premonitions, Bruce projecting and not listening. Why is “child” in quotations … what is that supposed to imply? Despite Bruce’s niceness to Jason on the surface, he says some pretty hurtful things about him when Jason isn’t listening. While this perception does shift when Jason proves him wrong, he tends to swiftly rebound to his preconceptions at the first instance of disagreement between them (or even when Jason makes a valid argument).

No matter how much he told Jason he respects him and how he’s a smart kid, his notion that Jason has to be “corrected” definitely bled into their interactions. Jason running off in aditf wasn’t just as a result of their conflict within that story, it’s a culmination of all of these conflicting vibes he’s felt since he met Bruce. Fast forward to modern comics and he says these things to Jason’s face with the express intent of inflicting pain. Alfred has a point, Bruce … never too late to fine-tune your perspective.

[ruporas]

a conversation about scars

[ID: A Trigun comic. Vash is shirtless with his back to the viewer, showing off his many scars and metal implants. He complains, “Oh, c’mon... The shirt got stuck... Argh.” Wolfwood’s finger pokes him at the base of his neck, and Vash exclaims, “Ack! Wolfwood!?”

Wolfwood, looking down, asks, “Does it ever hurt?” Vash’s eyes go wide with surprise, and he looks down and says, “No-- Sometimes they ache, but nothing unbearable.” Wolfwood kisses the back of his neck and then leans against Vash, silent as Vash cheerfully laughs, “Got it! It’s free, finally!”

Wolfwood still looks sad, and Vash turns back and smiles nervously to ask, “What is it?” Hand over the grate over Vash’s heart, Wolfwood says, “... I was just thinking it would’ve been better had I met you sooner.” He hugs Vash from behind, and the background goes dark.

“If I were with you earlier, I’d been able to stop you from making dumb decisions. And protect you when you do.” Wolfwood’s expression is heavy as he looks down Vash’s back and says, “Then you’d at least have less of these.” He puts his face against Vash’s back, and Vash, mouth tight, thinks, “.. When he puts it like that... It’s so embarrassing somehow...”

Vash moves away and says forcefully, “But-- I don’t want you to protect me. Because then-- you’d get hurt.” Wolfwood angrily replies, “Huh? Are you forgetting-- Scars don’t last on me!” Vash angrily exclaims “Idiot!” and grabs Wolfwood’s collar.

Wolfwood, irate, goes, “Idiot!?” but Vash pulls down Wolfwood’s shirt as he leans their foreheads together. He exclaims, “I meant up here!” Vash looks upset and says, “Just because your body won’t leave anything-- doesn’t mean nothing every happened!”

Wolfwood grits his teeth as Vash continues, “So don’t say that-- I can take care of myself and I... wouldn’t want you to be burdened any-- mh?!” He breaks off with a loud sound of surprise when Wolfwood pulls him forward to kiss him.

Scowling very fiercely, Wolfwood demands, “Don’t call yourself my burden. That’s up to me!” Vash, flushed and scowling back with one hand raised to his mouth, shouts, “That’s what you’re upset about?!” For a second, they stay in the same positions, Vash braced over Wolfwood as they glare at each other, both labeled “upset.”

Then Vash turns somber and says, “These scars don’t bother me at all and I own responsibility for them... And... at least, I can count mines.” Wolfwood looks away as Vash touches his hair and says, “What about you?”

They lie down, Vash on top of Wolfwood as he says sadly, “I’m never going to know how many times you’ve been shot, how many times you had to drink that potion. (You won’t even tell me how it works...).” There’s a close up panel of Wolfwood’s eyes, tired and guilty, and Vash continues, “Don’t focus on me now... Please just protect yourself first.” Wolfwood responds, “You have to consider yourself first too.” Vash says, “This isn’t about me,” and Wolfwood argues, “Yes it is.” Vash says, “Nuh uh.”

There’s a final cartoony panel of them against white space: Vash pouting with annoyance at a ticked Wolfwood. Their next speech bubbles hover in white. Wolfwood aggravatedly shouts, “Listen to your own advice!”, and Vash exclaims, “Ack--! Don’t get mad, Wolfwood!!” “Fin” is written next to a donut and lollipop.

At the very bottom of the page is a cartoony sketch titled “Alt to p.4″. Vash presses their heads together and shouts, “I meant up here!” Wolfwood looks down with confusion at his bare chest. Vash looks down too, sweating. Wolfwood, squinting, says, “My ch--” but Vash cuts him off with a shrieked, “NO!!” End ID]

credits for ID text  

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.  

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

[seonghwaddict]

falling and sleeping — choi jongho

in which falling in love with you felt like falling asleep; natural and unnoticed.

best friend!choi jongho x fem!reader. genre. fluff, crack, friends to lovers. warnings. cursing, none he's just a little nervous. wc. 1.5k. rating. pg-13

lilo’s notes. hiii here's a fluffy little jongho fic because i love him. this isn’t proofread btw i’m sorry for any errors! also, my upload schedule is now on saturday's :3

listening to. from the start, laufey

masterlist.

“hyung!”

jongho burst into the living room of his shared dorm with wooyoung and hongjoong. hongjoong was nowhere to be found, likely at the studio or something, and wooyoung sprawled on the couch, watching a drama on the tv, scrolling through his phone, and taking occasional sips of his comically large coffee cup simultaneously. at the sound and sudden appearance of jongho, he looked away from the screen.

“something wrong?” he yawned, turning his phone off and dropping it on his chest.

“yes. i figured out my problem-“

wooyoung snorted, eyes drifting back to the television screen. “yeah? which one?”

“shut the fuck up, i’ll strangle you,” jongho paused what was supposed to be his dramatic monologue to glare at the dark haired fox-resembling man on the couch. he waited a second before sighing. “my y/n problem. i figured it out. so-“

“you have a problem with her?” at the mention of jongho’s best friend’s name, wooyoung’s attention was captured. if he had a problem with you, that meant something terrible must have happened. truthfully, wooyoung would hate that. he’d been rooting for the two of you for years, even if neither of you were aware of how perfect you were for each other.

“hey! stop interrupting me,” jongho kicked his shin lightly before continuing, “well, no, we don’t have a problem but things felt weird for some reason and i have come to a conclusion.”

“okay… and…?” wooyoung gestured for him to continue, his dramatic pause putting him on edge.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“… excuse me?” it was then that he decided to turn off the tv, giving his full attention to his younger friend.

“i’m allergic to her.”

“oh, for the love of-“ wooyoung groaned and threw himself back on the couch, screaming into a pillow, “CHOI JONGHO YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HER!”

a confused expression crossed his face as he watched his friend’s dramatic antics and jongho sat down, forcefully pulling the pillow from wooyoung’s face. he should’ve found hongjoong instead, maybe he would’ve been more helpful.

“no, no, don’t be silly,” he tossed the pillow aside and spoke, hands flailing around to emphasise his point. wooyoung was on he verge of banging his head against a wall, “lately when i go near her my stomach itches and i feel all warm and sometimes it gets hard to breath and…”

the realisation that spread across his face was a picture wooyoung wanted to take and print out, plastering it on his wall and also adding it to his resume with the caption ‘i’m literally cupid.’

“… and oh my god i’m in love with her.”

a loud cheer left wooyoung as he sprang up from the couch, going on a five minute rant about how long he’d been waiting for this and how he always knew there was something. “you should go tell her right now.”

“w-what- no! i just figured out i’m in love with my best friend and you expect me to just… go and tell her?”

“that’s exactly what i expect,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning his weight on one leg, “didn’t she tell you about how she overheard someone say some guy from her workplace wanted to ask her out for valentines?”

“well, yeah… but-”

“no buts!” he held his palm up, silencing jongho. “you can’t let that home-wrecker ask her out before you. so, get your ass off that couch, change into something nice and go tell her you love her. and buy some flowers in the way.”

“it’s not home-wrecking if we aren’t even toge-“

“that’s besides the point, now do as i say if you ever want a relationship with her.” wooyoung rolled his eyes and turned on his heels, walking to where his jacket hung on the coat rack. he pulled out his wallet and, surprisingly, fished out his credit card to give to jongho. “this is for flowers and some chocolates only.”

and so half an hour later he was walking down the hallway of your floor of your apartment building, wearing an all-black ensemble of slacks a shirt and a trench coat, holding a bouquet of various flowers he didn’t know the names of in one hand and a small box of your favourite chocolate ms in the other. he could still abort and leave without you ever knowing he was there in the first place. you’d given him a key to the building a while ago, trusting him with it since your apartment was practically his second home.

he considered doing just that again, but the bought of you going out with another man who wasn’t him had his heart aching, giving him some courage to finally step in front of your door. he practiced what he wanted to say to you under his breath as he stared at the familiar dark grey door. when he thought he was ready, he reached out to ring the doorbell.

only to pull away at the last second and begging pacing back and forth nervously. eventually, he stopped, clenching his eyes shut and forcing himself to ring your doorbell. there was no going back now.

when you opened the door and you looked at him with your bright eyes and enchanting smile, he felt the nervousness in his stomach melt away and get replaced by butterflies and a soft pink tint on his cheeks. “oh, hey, jjong-“

“i love you.”

you blinked at him, not noticing the very obvious items in his hands, eyes fixed in his face. not quite understanding, you chuckled lightly, “you know i love you too.”

“no, you don’t get it. i mean, i in love with you. i fucking love you and i’m not sure if i’ve ever felt so strongly about someone in my life. i smile when someone mentions you, my heart flutters when i’m around you, fuck, when i see your smile it feels like all my problems have been solved and… your presence, god, it just fucks me up in the best way possible. i can’t believe i didn’t realise this sooner, but i’ve fallen for you, y/n. though, i suppose i didn’t realise it because falling felt like sleeping and sleeping feels so natural and easy that i never realised it until now.”

you stared at each other. he stared with all the admiration he could muster and you stared with mild shock and, under that, relief. “you… you love me?”

“oh my god, i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have- i’ve made things awkward, haven’t i? just- just forget that-“

you soft palm covering his lips drove him to silence, looking at you with wide eyes as you pulled him into your apartment, closing the door with your unoccupied hand. his heart skipped a beat as you grinned and whispered your next words.

“jongho, i love you—in that way—too.” you dropped your hand from his mouth slowly, looking down at the flowers and the chocolates, giggling, “you really didn’t have to get all this.”

you took them out of his hands slowly, avoiding his gaze, flustered as you placed his gifts on the marble counter of the kitchen behind you. he hadn’t said anything since your confession, cheeks burning and jaw dropped slightly. he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t believe you liked loved him back.

he drew your attention to him, breathing out your name. “you… you love me too?”

“yes, you dense cabbage, i love you,” your laugh was melodic as you took both his hands in yours, nodding, “now shut up and kiss me.”

jongho’s expression finally changed into a giddy grin as he pulled his hands out of your grasp to hold your waist, leaning forward and brushing his lips against yours. when you didn’t protest, not that he expected you to, he deepened it into a proper kiss that he hoped conveyed his need for you. he felt like his knees would go weak as your delicate hands trailed up his torso to his head, brushing his hair absentmindedly as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

eventually, you had to separate to catch your breaths and jongho mentally cursed the human need for oxygen. he liked kissing you, your lips slotting together like puzzle pieces. when he felt like the tension had gone completely, he leaned forward to press repeated pecks to your lips, basking in the way you giggle and tried to meet each one of his quick kisses.

“i think i have a tiny crush on you,” you muttered once he decided he kissed you enough (it was never enough, really, but he wanted to let you breathe), fighting back a stupid grin.

“you think?” he snorted, one hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb tracing your jawline and eyes full of affection.

“yeah, a teeny tiny one.”

he laughed heartily, giving you one more peck “i paid with wooyoung’s card, by the way.”

“in that case you should’ve gotten at least five more bouquets.”

network. @cromernet

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

[steddieas-shegoes]

Eddie doesn’t understand how his laundry always gets done.

When he first moved in with Wayne, laundry was his chore to do, so he did his and Wayne’s every Saturday for years.

Then Wayne started doing his own, and Eddie did his own. When he remembered. Which was usually only when he was staring at empty dresser drawers and stacks of dirty clothes on his floor.

But since spring break, since Vecna, since the hospital stay, someone has been doing his laundry.

He thought it was Wayne at first, probably just happy to have Eddie alive at home and not caring about having to do extra loads to keep his clothes clean.

But then Wayne went away for five days to fill in at a plant in Chicago, and his laundry still got washed and put away.

The only people who’d been at his house were Dustin (no way he was doing laundry without expecting something in return), Robin (did she even know how to do laundry?), and Steve (he wasn’t exactly the type to just do an acquaintance’s laundry).

So who was it?

Of course, he found out exactly who it was because his washing machine broke in the most comical way possible.

It was barely six in the morning on Saturday, and Eddie was woken up by a loud bang, a yelled “FUCK ME!”, and a surge of electricity. He would’ve been more angry about being woken up if he didn’t run right into Steve when he opened his bedroom door to see what was going on.

“Uh. Hi?”

“Do not ask questions. Do not. But your washing machine is broken.”

“Okay?”

“Is Wayne gonna be home soon?”

“Should be within the hour.”

“Good. Okay. Good. He can fix it. Your favorite Metallica shirt definitely can be saved.”

“What do you mean?”

“Uh. It’s eating the clothes? Or trying to. I think I got most of them but the Metallica shirt is really in there.”

“Wait.” Steve?! This whole time is was Steve Harrington doing his laundry? “It’s been you.”

“What?”

“Doing my laundry. I was starting to think it was a leprechaun or something.”

“That’s really stupid. How would a leprechaun even be able to reach the knobs to start the cycle?”

Eddie couldn’t help it, he laughed. Steve was being so serious.

“Oh god, I love you.”

Oh. Wait a second. No. Not that. That’s not what he meant.

Steve’s face was so red, Eddie could swear he felt heat coming off of it even from more than a foot away.

“Um.”

“Sorry. Just. Well I don’t have an explanation for that one.”

“I know you didn’t mean it, it’s okay.”

“Wait.” Eddie was going to make this worse. He had to stop. “I did mean it. I just didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

“You love me? You barely know me. I just broke your washing machine and possibly ruined your favorite Metallica shirt.”

“I know you. And those are replaceable things. You’ve been doing my laundry Steve. You’ve brought my favorite beer once a week for months. You let me host Hellfire at your house even though you’ve never played and probably never will. You make us cookies! You let me pick the music in the car. You let me pick movies for movie night even though I know you hate what I pick. You’re at my house before the sun is up washing my dirty clothes in secret so I don’t have to. What’s not to fuckin’ love?”

“I guess…everything else?”

Eddie shook his head. He grabbed Steve’s hand and led him to the washing machine, smirking at the pile of still-wet clothes sitting in the dryer next to it and the Metallica shirt hanging out of the washing machine.

“That washing machine is older than Wayne possibly. You got one at your house, right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Great. Put my stuff in a basket and let’s go to yours.”

Steve kept doing Eddie’s laundry. Every Saturday morning before he had to go to work, he threw their clothes into the washing machine at his house.

Eddie always watched from on top of the machine, giving Steve a kiss on the forehead when he was done.

[raineandsky]

#113

tw: kidnapping

“Um,” the villain says as he flicks the living room light on. “What are you doing in my house?”

The hero scowls. “Well, it’s not like I tied myself up and put a bow on my own head, is it?”

And in one of the villain’s own dining room chairs, no less. Couldn’t he at least bring his own? “I don’t know,” the villain says slowly, to the hero’s offence, “you might have.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I don’t know! Tell me what you’re doing in my house!”

“I don’t know either!”

“There is an alarming lack of information here, [Hero].” The villain steps forward to study the knot in the ropes on the hero’s wrists—just a plain, normal knot. Nothing extravagant, nothing telling. “How do you not know?”

“Well, unfortunately, [Villain], I have spent most of this experience unconscious,” the hero snaps a little harsher than necessary. “I woke up, like, five minutes before you got here.”

The villain tuts, moving his interest onto the comically large bow on the hero’s head. This would’ve been a perfect chance to laugh at him if it wasn’t somehow happening inside the villain’s house.

The villain’s just about to hit the hero with a barrage of questions—with the inevitable “I don’t know”, of course—when answers present themselves in the form of the supervillain.

“Ah, you’re home,” they say brightly. A pair of stout glasses are in their hands, generously topped up with what is undoubtedly whiskey. “How do you like your gift?”

The villain throws a glance at the hero. He looks as lost as the villain feels. “My gift?”

“You’ve been working hard recently, [Villain].” They offer him a glass and he takes it without question. “I thought I could at least acknowledge the positive impact you've had on our little business. On me.”

The hero scoffs but they both ignore him. “What…” The question’s going to sound insane, but this situation is insane enough to warrant it, the villain thinks. “What am I meant to do with a… person?”

The supervillain hums thoughtfully, casting a glance about the room. “Well, I was looking around your place and thought you could use a maid.” They laugh at the scrunch of offence in the villain’s face. “Oh, I’m kidding, [Villain]. Maybe they could be target practice, a pet, a plaything.” A sip from their glass. “Anything your mind can conjure.”

The villain tries to look at the hero like he’s thinking on it. The hero watches him back like he’s trying to read his mind.

The supervillain takes another swig of their drink. The villain copies them before they can notice that he’s avoiding it like it’s poison. It sure tastes like it; it burns the whole way down.

“Any ideas?”

The villain taps the glass to his chin with a tut. “A dog would be nice.” The supervillain snorts a laugh, and the hero’s desperate expression turns flat with horror. “I’m sure I can find a nice collar for him.”

“A shock collar, I hope,” the supervillain suggests with a grin. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it, [Villain]. You deserved a little something for everything you’ve done for me.”

This is more than a little something, but the villain doesn’t bother correcting them. “I love it. Thank you.”

“No darling.” A smile; soft, affectionate. “Thank you.”

The supervillain gives him a pat and sets their glass down on the coffee table. “I have business to attend to. I just wanted to see your reaction.” They make for the door, though the villain’s not convinced that’s how they got in. “I’ll see you tomorrow—keep me updated on how you train them.” And with a wink and one last smirk, they disappear outside and off into the evening.

The hero’s gaze snaps to the villain the moment they’re gone. “A dog?” he demands.

The villain carefully unties the bow on his head, collecting the ribbon in a giant red bundle in his arms. “Yeah,” he says brightly. “Are you going to bolt if I untie you?”

“You called me a dog. I’ll goddamn make like one the moment that door’s open.”

The villain shrugs nonchalantly. “Binds stay on, then.”

“Wait, no—” The hero’s voice is bordering on a cry. The villain doesn’t hate the sound of it. “No, sorry, I just— you want me to be your dog.”

“I do.” The villain smiles innocently. “My guard dog.”

That gives the hero long enough pause for the villain to take his knife to some of the rope. “… Guard dog.”

“You’ll be my bodyguard.” The first wisps break free under his blade. “You’ll work for me, cover my back, whatever I need you to do.”

“You want me to… defend you?”

The villain can’t help but smirk. The ropes split, freeing the hero’s hands. “If you don’t like it, [Supervillain] had plenty of good ideas.”

“No!” It comes out faster than the hero seems to have thought it. “No, I– I can do that.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” The villain sighs contentedly, giving him a mocking pat on the head as he gets back to his feet. “Good boy.”

[trivia-yandere]

Hello! I was wondering If I could request? Yandere bts whoever you choose, where their darling has never cum before, experiencing it for the first time with them and overstimulation, getting dumb off of dick 🥰

yes we can! it wouldn't be us if we didn't add at least a little yandere to it

two sentence horror story

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin... @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @momnomnom @chimmy-licious

halloween masterlist

word count: 2.309

warning: dirty talk, humiliation kink, slight sadism, restraint, bound/gagged, pussy slapping, possessive/jealous seokjin, oral (f receiving), spitting, edging, yandere/dark themes, fingering, squirting,

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

Seokjin likes to think that he’s graced you with his presence. That you are lucky to have him - lucky to have someone so successful, handsome and rich. You were lucky to be his girl, someone who he spoiled with nice clothing and jewelry. He took you on expensively lavish vacations and dates. You ate only the finest food and drank the best wine the world has to offer. You didn’t even have to work, not while you were his girl and he had it - because that meant that you also had it.

But you did work, much to Seokjin’s dismay. You were a woman that didn’t need him to be dependent, no matter how many times he would place his credit card in your hands, you only ever used it on useless things such as gas for your car - the same car he wishes you’d get rid of all together. It wasn’t luxurious and it didn’t fit the look for someone like you - his girl.

Seokjin didn’t appreciate your lack of respect for him. Your refusal to quit your job, stating that you worked hard to get where you were at. So what? Thousands of girls would drop everything to be beside him like you were, and yet everything he did never appeared good enough for you. You didn’t need him like other women would’ve - and that is what upsets him. There was no control over you. You had your own money, car, home - what was he truly useful for if you didn’t need him for anything?

Seokjin had been lenient with you. Even as the months passed and the relationship grew, he had yet to bed you. He learned that you had little experience during one tipsy conversation and that’s all he needed to know to understand now. You couldn’t submit because there was never a reason to - no other man gave you what he could. You wouldn’t submit to a man that couldn’t even make you cum - how comical. 

“J-Jin…”

Seokjin hums, head snapping to your direction. You were always so beautiful to him. You didn’t have to try hard to catch his attention. Your glow was as bright as the sun, radiating off of you heavenly.

Seokjin could say he was a bit of a sadist. It’s another reason why he isn’t quick to bed you - you couldn’t handle then what he had it store for you now. He marvels at your oiled, naked skin, arms wrapped tightly behind you while your legs are spread apart widely, ankles tied beneath the bed post. 

“Remember how you told me you never came before?” Seokjin questions, learning against the bed frame to look down upon you. “That ex boyfriend of yours only cared about pleasuring himself, huh?”

Seokjin notes how you’re confused, wondering why he’s bringing this up now out of all times. 

“I saw you talking to him. It must be awkward working with an ex.” Seokjin’s tone is dangerously calm as he speaks, eyes glaring holes into your face for a reaction. “Is that why you don’t want to quit?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “I have to talk to him. He’s my coworker.”

Wrong.

Seokjin slaps his hand against your bare pussy harshly. You jump at the impact, eyes widening. “J-Jin-”

Seokjin slaps you again, and again. Each slap is harder than the last. You don’t notice the moans coming between your lips and just how wet you were becoming. Shivers erupt through your skin and it feels taboo just feeling this way; getting pleasure deprived from pain. 

“You’re soaked.” Jin chuckles, fingertips ghosting across your bulging clit. “I don’t believe you.”

You knit your brows in frustration - both sexual and irritable. 

“You and him had dinner.” 

The prints of Seokjin’s fingers place themself firmly against your clit. He rubs in slow, taunting circles.

“I-I…what?” You moan, hips buckling, arms squirming in the restraints. You’re unsure why you allowed him to have you in such a position. It was brought up randomly when you had come to his home and you’d admit that you were curious. 

“I-I…what?” Seokjin mocks, rubbing along your clit more roughly. “You aren’t a dumb bitch, Y/N. You know what I’m speaking of.”

Seokjin never spoke to you like this, but it was hard being upset when he was pleasuring while doing so. You bit your lip to suppress a moan. 

“A work dinner.” You pant, recollecting the only time you had seen the man outside working hours. “You followed me?”

Of course he had. Seokjin scoffs. You were his girl after all - someone he has graced his presence for. He allowed you into spaces other people could only dream of being in. 

“Have you ever been eaten out?” The question catches you off guard and causes you to grow hot with embarrassment. 

Seokjin hums upon your head shake and now he grows hungry, mouth salivating at the thought of tasting you. 

“Though you do not deserve it,” Seokjin lowers himself between your legs, eyes set right on your wet clit. You squirm once more, humiliated by him being so close to you. “I’ll just have a little taste.”

“Jin- oh!” your words are caught in your throat when you feel him - his tongue wet and warm against your clit. It flickers back and forth at a steady pace.

As for Jin, his nose touches the top of your clit as he dives deeper to have a taste of you. Having complete control over you is an added bonus while getting the chance to finally taste you. His tongue laps between your folds as your thighs quiver.

You gasp when Jin leans back to spit, then suckle onto your clit once more. He looks up, eyes watching the way your head falls back as you continue to moan.

“I-I think I’m gonna-”

“No.” Jin pulls back, lifting himself up and away from your clit. You shivered, feeling your high come crumbling down to a disappointing halt. “What do you two talk about?”

You swallow thickly, eyes flickering open. You’re panting as you speak. “N-Nothing but work.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jin tilts his head. His fingers are dangerously close to your clit once more. “There has to be a reason why you keep going back to work.”

You want to scream that it’s because it’s your job and you need it, but your mouth is shut. Jin fingers enter you swiftly and now he’s pumping inside of you. “You’re so wet that I was able to slide right in.”

Your walls clench around his fingers selfishly, wanting more and more. The pleasure is one you have not felt in a while - and even then it wasn’t like Seokjin’s. Your juices are coating his bedsheets, but he doesn’t care. The sight of you is utterly filthy and worth it.

“You’re going back to see him.” Seokjin’s thumb rests upon your clit as he pumps, rubbing in circles. 

Your eyes are clenched shut and your moaning increases. “Does it feel good, Y/N?” Jin teases - he knows it does. 

“Y-Yes!” you sigh. “So good.”

Jin removes his fingers from inside of you and slaps your clit harshly. You scream, tears lining your eyes. Your high once again came down, disappointed at the lack of pleasure.

“Why should you deserve to feel good?” Jin questions, his tone dark. “It’s not like you deserve it.”

Your eyes blink a few times to look at Jin. He appears serious, waiting for you to respond to him. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” you murmur to him, hands clenching in the restraints. 

Seokjin scoffs. “I want you to tell me why I should let you cum?”

You swallow. “You were the one that wanted to make me cum.” you hiss. You were growing frustrated with the man. He was hell bent on showing you how pleasurable sex could be and not one-sided - but now all it appeared to be was him questioning you about an ex you cared little about.

“Aw, feisty.” Jin cackles.

“If this is what you meant then maybe I could go to my ex.”

Your ears are ringing seconds after you snap at Seokjin, your cheek stinging. The room is eerily silent.

“You…” Seokjin’s tone is deep. The deepest you’ve ever heard it become. 

“Jin-”

Another slap across your cheek, and then another. You don’t manage to speak before Seokjin hovering above you onto the bed.

Seokjin pulls off his pants, underwear going right along with it. He has been lenient enough but your words angered him. To say such a thing to him when he’s allowed you to do what you wanted the entirety of the relationship was a slap to the face.

“I wanted our first time to be enjoyable.” Seokjin says. He spits at your clit once more - not because he needed to. No, you were wet enough, but because spitting on you was what he liked doing to show that you were his - he likes to say it’s a way to mark his territory. 

“Seokjin.” you attempt, but you’re squirming upon feeling the tip of his cock rubbing against your clit. 

“If you cum along the way, that’s great for you.” Jin murmurs, cock now at your hole. He’s entering you slowly.

You widen your eyes at his words. Where was he going with this?

Jin snaps his hips inside of you. You scream out at the sudden impact. He removes himself just to do it again - this time grinding so deep that you swear you could feel him in your stomach.

Jin’s left hand grips your thighs while his right clamps down onto your mouth and just beneath your nose. Your eyes bulge at the sensation of him fucking you. He had no mercy, snapping his hips so roughly that the bedframe slams against the wall behind you.

“And to think I was going to let you keep that little job.” Jin chuckles and shakes his head. There’s already a white ring around his cock. “You’re creaming, baby. You’ve never been fucked this good, huh?”

Your throat groans a response, unable to do a proper one. Your eyes are rolling now, stomach churning. Your walls are clenching around him, suching him in for more.

“But after what you’ve said,” Seokjin pries your mouth open, entering his fingers inside. Your tongue swirls around this, tasting your juices. “I’ll never allow you out of here.”

Your mind isn’t registering his words - after all, you assume this was just roleplay. Men were into weird stuff. Instead you were busy groaning beneath him, toes curling. There’s drool dripping out of your mouth and down Seokjin’s wrist, but he doesn’t go to remove himself inside of you.

“Look at you!” Jin laughs, snapping his hips harder. “Cock drunk. You don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“P-Please let m-me cum!” you gurgle out. You could feel the familiar high bubbling once more, this time even more intense then the last two, 

“Why should I?” Jin removes his fingers from your mouth to cup your cheeks roughly. He was still pissed - and rightfully so. He was already upset that you were a whore enough to have dinner with your edx (colleague or not) and now you were begging him to have you cum?

“Please, Jin!” you feel hot tears pour from your eyes, so far gone that you don’t even realize that you’re crying from pure pleasure. 

Jin’s nails dig into your cheeks so deep that he notices that they begin to draw a pinch of blood. He growls low, feeling his own high coming.

Jin spits on you once more before capturing your lips in his, allowing a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s about to cum. He removes himself from you, cumming right onto your twitching clit, admiring how his cum drips off of you.

“I’ll let you cum, whore.” Jin murmurs, allowing four fingers inside of you now. The stretch causes you to scream once more, but he doesn’t care. He’s pumping inside of you without a care. 

You should be upset. You were being degraded and called out your name - you had spit running down your face. But you weren’t. You were far gone from your sanity, and the only thing you wanted now was to cum like he promised. 

“You don’t understand me now, Y/N.” Jin murmurs to you, eyes fixed on your soaking pussy. “But you’re not leaving. In due time you'll understand.”

“I-I’m cumming…!” you bite your lips, eyebrows knitting. 

Seokjin chuckles darkly, free hand going to rub your clit to bring you closer to your high. He feels you clench around his even tighter, head falling back against the headboard. 

Your juices squirt out, soaking him in the chest. It’s long and accompanied by a low shout.

Your breathing slows as your body twitches. You were feeling exhausted.

“Can you take these off?” you murmur after a few minutes of trying to compose yourself. 

Upon not hearing a response, your eyes blink open to find Seokjin.

“W-What-”

Your eyes are burning and now you’re screaming at the top of your legs. You pull at your arms to shield your eyes, but you are unable to. Your head thrashes back and forth in an attempt to get away.

“Now you can’t work if you can’t see.” Seokjin says in between your screams. “If you can’t see, then there’s no one else to look at.”

You’re crying, but even then it hurts. Your vision is blurred until it goes completely black.

“Now I can take care of you like I intended in the beginning.” Seokjin’s voice is now calm - peaceful. The one you recalled since becoming entangled with him. “Behave, or I’ll have to hurt you again. And I don’t want to do that, Y/N. I love you.”

it's been nearly five years since you last saw seokjin.

He reminds you every day that if you misbehave, he'll take your hearing next.

[sunshine-zenith]

This is kinda a part two to this post here, about Ballister’s scar. Specifically I wanted to speculate a bit on Ballister’s relationship with Queen Valerin when you consider the fact that he was a mistreated and vulnerable child when he met her

Like. Look at this moment here

She’s reassuring him. She genuinely believes in him, and it’s clear from the knighting ceremony, when she specifically lowers her voice to tell him how much she’s been looking forward to this moment that her intentions around him a pure. She wants to change things, she wants to give this kid a chance, and she’s killing two birds with one stone by making him a knight

But like Nimona herself says, question everything

Look a little bit closer at this image — the queen is well dressed and already had a statement prepared. Ballister is dressed in rags and looks like he hasn’t even been given the chance to wash his hair. He looks surprised and a little scared when the media erupts with questions. And I don’t think this was the Queen’s doing, necessarily — odds are the Director was the one who was supposed to prepare Ballister, and chose not to, because she probably knew that while the Queen wouldn’t judge him for looking like the homeless kid he was, the media would. Still, it shows that while the Queen has overall say on Ballister’s future, she doesn’t have a lot to do about his present

Ballister says he loves the Queen, but it’s hard to tell if he meant he loves her like you’d love a family member, or if he “loves” her like someone who has been raised to not question authority “loves” said authority. He took a deep breath and looked to Ambrosius during the knighting ceremony, not to her. She realistically probably wasn’t super involved, even if she wanted to be — she had an entire kingdom to run, other knights to knight, and likely spent her days making progressive decisions that were controversial with the conservatives in her kingdom. Plus, if she had been super involved, it could’ve increased bias against him, like she was favoring him above everyone else — Ambrosius seemed overall not sure popular among the knights, and while they respected his authority when he was put it charge, there was definitely a vibe that they resented him for being the “Golden Boy” descendant of Gloreth.

Let’s compare Bal and Queen Valerin to Comic!Ballister Blackheart and one of the Queen’s inspirations, Dr. Blitzmeyer (the other was the king, who was a basically prop that was referenced heavily in relation to Ballister as someone he should kill before dying off screen).

Blackheart and Blitzmeyer end the comic opening a lab together, working as co-scientists. Blackheart clearly thinks of her as a friend, but she thinks of him as a fond colleague for most of the comic — she’s happy to offer help in the form of exposition, and she helps him save the day by giving him a McGuffin That You Just Gotta Read The Comic To Understand, but part of her is worried he’s a rival scientist that wants to steal her ideas. She still welcomes him in her home and offers him team. When he’s at the end of his rope and needs a comfort hug, she awkwardly indulges him

She’s surprised when he puts her down as his emergency contact

Dr. Blitzmeyer is a quirky scientist that hangs out on conspiracy forums and probably practices witchcraft for the sake of scientific study. Queen Valerin is a warm and progressive monarch who makes controversial decisions. And they make big decisions regarding helping Ballister

Remember the reluctant McGuffin handover?

She’s weighing the odds of him lying to her and stealing/tampering with/destroying it, hesitating before trusting him. If she had said no, a lot more people would’ve died in the comic, but she had no way of knowing that. She was barely interested in looking out her window and just worried the thing she spent years on would be wrecked

Now, the Queen — we don’t see her weigh the pros and cons of letting Bal become a knight, but she had to. And consider what she was presented with: a homeless kid with either no family or an abusive one judging from his scars and bruises. He had no adults in his life to protect him. No one to tell her no, making him essentially a child soldier might not be in his best interest. And he jumped a fence into the middle of a knight training session declaring he wanted to be a knight, basically coming to her — essentially the perfect candidate for her semi-social experiment

I can totally see her in another world letting this kid into her home and giving him tea and comfort, but I don’t think she could here. While she meant good, she took in a kid with nothing to lose and gave him everything to lose (a home, education, likely his first friend, safety), while also putting him under unavoidable social pressure. And she did it while the only adult figure other than her in his life, the one who would actually be involved in his upbringing — the Director — openly and defiantly failed him from the get go, and protested letting him join the knights to her face

Y’all I adore Queen Valerin, even if we only got her for like five minutes. Even if it’s in a speculative sense I like that she’s a good person while morally gray actions. She very much improved Ballister’s circumstances by giving him a home and the opportunity to pursue his interests. She clearly cared about him. She’s also a politician who, even if unavoidably, lowkey set him up to be a scapegoat without a backup plan and no outside support

Like. Y’all.

[airborneice]

VERY late to the party but here’s my piece for @hilda-appreciation-week Day 2 - Favourite Episode - STONE FOREST BABEYY

hmm I was gonna talk a little about why I love this episode so much but it got kind of long so that’s going under a cut lol

ok so this would’ve been a really tough one for me to choose, if it weren’t for the fact that Stone Forest has had a very special place in my heart right from the moment I picked up the comic in 2018 and spent the next 2 yrs hoping I’d see it in the show. since that was pretty much my introduction to the comics and it was a hilda story that was yet to feature in the show it was just. so much fun. the art style of the comic is wonderful and a joy to look at and I would argue that pre-Mountain King it was the first comic to show a bit more dimension to Johanna and really have her along for the adventure, and I love it for that so much

I was so hyped to see this episode when season 2 dropped, and imo they adapted the story perfectly. I admire how the writers adjusted the story of the comic to fit into the show with all the changes they’d made, making the same conflict work with a slightly different Hilda-Johanna dynamic in the show, and how they made room in the story for the supporting characters who aren’t in the comic so much (even if that meant they got rid of my boy the stray sod to have hilda’s friends there instead 🥲 it's fine I snuck him into the bg of this drawing bc he’s still there. in my heart). Anyway I love this ep, I loved seeing how my fave comic moments made it onto the screen while also getting the completely new B plot with Frida, David, Gerda etc. I also really really love that the story being animated meant they had room to expand on some smaller moments in the comic and make them more emotional and nuanced (the part where they try to sleep behind a rock and Johanna thinks about reaching out to Hilda before giving up comes to mind…love little additions like that which take advantage of the medium!!!) also they had Johanna do cool stuff like tell a troll to get lost to its face so in conclusion this episode was made for me specifically and I just think it’s such a treat :D

[datshitrandom]

How was to be in a gay relationship (klaine) on screen?

“It was fucking awesome man. I mean the main thing here, like not because I’m trying to be blasé about the obvious thing in this question because we are saying that this is a gay relationship, nowadays, we just call it a relationship on tv, but to contextualize it, a gay relationship on mainstream Fox Network, that’s a pretty cool thing to be a part of. I often equate my relationship to that whole experience to Slumdog Millionaire which is, if you are familiar with Slumdog Millionaire is a kid that gets ask a bunch of questions and he just so happens to have the experience to answer this very specific things, now being cisgender straight kid you go 'oh oh what? are you going to allow this guy to talk gay shit?', I’ve been so culturally queer my whole life, not because I’m trying you know, actually, I was gonna say not because I’m trying to be cool but I’m gonna erase that, is because I am trying to be cool. All the sh— in my life that I have tried to emulate, learn from and be inspired by are one hundred percent queer as f—. It was in queer communities that I’ve found people that I idolize, that I want to be, to learn something from. And I’d say that’s a gross generalization, that’s a lot of things and a lot of people. But I grew up in San Francisco in the ’90s. I watched men die. There was an awareness of the gay experience that was not a foreign concept to me. So, it was a narrative that I cared deeply about. I wasn’t like a f— saint or like 'I’m the man for the job', they hired me and they said, 'You’re the guy,' and I said, 'Okay, I’m the guy I will do my best, I will do my best to talk about it in the way I believe and a way that I’m passionate about'. So in many ways I’m glad that it was me because it was a thing that I really like showing up for and it meant a great deal to me that it meant a great deal to other people. Because when people say they were affected by that show or that relationship, it’s not because of me, it’s because of that relationship on a TV and the risks that people took to put that on TV and most important of all it took the people watching it to have the "aptitude" for seeing beyond what was maybe given to them in other avenues of culture. People of all ages, all spectrums of awareness say, 'I didn’t grow up with a show like that and it was a really meaningful thing for me to see,’ and I go ‘I didn’t grow up with a show like that’ and that would’ve been very meaningful for me too, you know?, regardless of the fact that I’m a straight kid. That has value. For anyone who’s been an underdog, we all know, in any shape or form — sexual, religious, biological, whatever — it has value because there’s going to be a lot of people who see that and go, 'Okay, I can now understand this in a context that maybe I wasn’t able to before'. So short story long, what was it like? It was a fucking privilege and I love talking about it and I’m so grateful I got to do it." - Darren Criss at the Chicago Comic & Entertainment Expo Q&A | April 27th, 2024 

[thealpacaavenger]

About Sonic IDW #56 (Post electric shock syndrome)

(Info found at https://www.verywellhealth.com and https://electrocuted.com)

Dang. That’s the best I can sum up this group of panels. I decided to look into the effects of electric shocks to the body. I swear, the authors did their absolute best to ensure that the amount of pain Sonic would go through would be as insane as possible.

Let’s start with this set of panels.

You can probably assume that the amount of volts Surge is sending into that water is excessive. Now, when someone’s skin is wet, not only does this make the shock more painful, it also makes it more deadly.

Next, are these panels. You can see here that Surge has her hands around either Sonic’s neck, or his shoulders. Either way, both areas are quite close to the heart. Shocks to the heart are another way to make electrical shocks more deadly. Another thing that makes an electrical shock more lethal is prolonged exposure. Which Sonic gets a fair share of. In the comic’s time, I’d say this lasted about 20-40 seconds, which may not seem long, but that is a very long time to be exposed to such a heavy voltage.

For obvious reasons, this causes Sonic to scream in pain, as you can see in both when Sonic first falls into the water and in the action panels (In the first, I believe it’s Sonic’s fist, though I struggle to tell. In the second, it’s clearly Sonic’s eye, meant to display fear or pain. And most importantly in the third panel, you can see Sonic’s mouth open screaming in pain).

When Surge passes out, Sonic is left in shock (no pun intended). Though, I have reason to believe he may have been dead in that panel.

Now, let’s talk about all the things Sonic would’ve gone through after that event. -Severe burns, both inside and outside his body. -An inconsistent or dangerous heartbeat -Numbness and tingling sensation throughout the body -Possible seizures -Weakness -Chronic pain

The weakness is one thing that is shown. Sonic needs help from Tails in order to get up. I also feel as though the patched hatching throughout Sonic’s body could also be interpreted as external burns.

Now, not only are there immediate physical reactions to getting electrocuted, there are also mental effects. These mental effects are labeled as post-electric shock syndrome. The symptoms are quite similar in nature to depression and PTSD.

-behavioral changes -Increased difficulty with memory and attention -irritability -anger -insomnia -aggressive behavior -difficulty enjoying hobbies -difficulty engaging with other people and work

In this next panel, I obviously don’t think that the only reason Sonic is angry is because of PESS, but I do think it may have made it a little harder to contain that anger, and maybe magnified it.

Sonic went through hell this time around. I suppose he always does.

[seuonji]

彡 i love you all the way. — yoon jeonghan

notes ๑ after getting rejected by your long term crush, jeonghan makes a proposal. little did you know, this proposal is fully a win to him, as long as you say yes.

keys ๑ best friend!jeonghan, crush!joshua

genre ๑ angst, fluff, highschool au — preview

warnings ๑ none

word count ๑ 0.7k

from aya: please reblog if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated<3

you were seated at your desk with jeonghan sitting infront of you. he was immersed in a comic he’s been fixated on lately. his legs were tucked under your desk so his knees were hitting yours. you occasionally kicked his shins but he still didn’t move. he wasn’t from your class, he just visited you every lunch break.

“he rejected me,” you monotonously blurted out of the blue.

“hm? joshua?” he peeped over the comic he was reading to see your face.

you bit your lip and nodded, hands fiddling with the comic book you stole from jeonghan’s bag.

his eyes averted back to his comic but he was interested to know more, “do you know why he rejected?”

“said he doesn’t have time for a relationship, what a load of bull,” you eventually placed the comic into your desk and smacked your hands unable to hide your frustrations of the situation. “how much you wanna bet he’s lying?”

“yn, you and i both know he’s not,“ jeonghan tilted the book downwards so you could see his done expression.

it was true, joshua was someone that cared about doing well academically. along with that, he was captain of the track team at school. to top it all off, he offered to teach kids in the music club how to play the guitar.

it was admirable really, plus, it was attractive. he knew how to balance his life amazingly well yet, he didn’t know where to fit a significant other into his schedule. but perhaps it wasn’t something meant to be fit in. at least not yet.

another admiring aspect of joshua was that he knew where his priorities lied however it was something you couldn’t help but resent.

because joshua did like you. you were someone he made exceptions for. he met you through his busy schedules so naturally you thought, this could work.

you planted your face onto your desk. “how could he reject me, we hangout all the time. what was missing?” you sulked.

“nothing was missing, he just has some priorities ynnie.”

your head was still on the table and jeonghan sighed.

“hey, be thankful he thought it through. it’s true he’s busy, you know that. even if he did accepted you, he would be able to only love you halfway, don’t you think?” he tapped your head with the book as he lectured you.

you let out a deep sigh, jeonghan couldn’t be more right. underneath it all, you knew you would’ve gotten tired of meeting him only for a few hours a week. you’d also get tired of the late replies and ultimately, in that list of priorities he had, you wouldn’t even place top three.

it just wasn’t meant to be.

you sat upwards and with a helpless tone, you answered, “i guess.”

jeonghan breathily chuckled as he pinched your hair in between his fingers. just as silence creeped in, jeonghan spoke.

“wanna date me in the meantime?” he tilted his head.

you were apalled, astonished even but you answered and went with it. it was definitely just one of his jeonghan jokes anyways.

“why would i accept, this totally goes against what you said earlier. joshua may only love me halfway but you don’t love me at all.”

“what do you mean? i love you all the way, is it my fault you didn’t notice?”

you sat there amused, his words were yet to register in your head, “you hypocrite!”

but then you finally heard him.

“wait— you what?—”

you were cut off by the bell,

“oh, there’s the bell, i’ll see you later yn,” he slid out the seat, placing it under its respective desk. he patted your head and smiled, “think about it, it might be fun.”

just as he was about to walk to the exit, he bent down and whispered in your ear, “i’ll let you pretend i’m joshua.”

the last thing you heard was his steps descending further away from you. you were left with so much uncertainty but one thing is for sure, this was not one of his jeonghan jokes.

[homelandersprettybaby]

pretty in white; homelander

summary; your wedding night with homelander

cw; virginity kink, impregnation, some curse words, mommy kink? and vaguely inspired by that scene in breaking dawn part i where edward breaks the bed

you looked so pretty in white. homelander thinks it’s his favourite colour on you. his pretty little bride. sticking to tradition, he insisted on not seeing the dress until the actual wedding, allowing himself to be surprised when you walked down the aisle.

the ceremony was incredibly lavish of course, not a single thing had been spared on your big day, courtesy of your fiancé. your dress cost more than your parents house, and you weren't even sure how much your wedding ring has cost; it was made exclusively of pink diamonds.

you didn’t need any of it though, you would’ve been happy getting married in a paper bag under a bridge if it meant getting to marry the love of your life.

naturally, there were a million paparazzi and fans waiting outside of the venue for pictures, and you and your husband shot them your biggest smiles. you happily ignored the things homelander muttered under his breath at the intrusion, electing to focus on your upcoming honeymoon.

in the limo, he could barely keep his hands off you. he almost ripped your dress off right then and there. you had to gently remind him that you did not want your first time with him to be in the backseat of a car.

he reluctantly agreed.

after the ceremony, he put you up in an extravagant villa in paris for your honeymoon. he made sure to remind you how many strings he had to pull to get this much time off with you, to anyone else it would've seemed hostile, but you heard the loving lilt in his voice.

you think this might’ve been the first time you didn’t see him in his suit, exchanging it for a sleek black tux.

you loved it.

now, you lay on the bed in your bridal lingerie; a shy ivory lace babydoll, as your new husband kisses your neck. you want him, you’ve been thinking about this moment for months now. ever the traditionalist, homelander wanted to wait until you were married before he fucked you for the first time.

it was finally going to happen.

“are you ready?” he mumbles into your neck, “i finally get to fuck you.”

“i’m nervous.” you whisper, “you know i’m a virgin.”

his tender hands explore the soft skin not covered by the silk. he’s trying to calm you down; he can hear your heart racing like a jackrabbit against your rib cage.

“you’re gonna love it, i promise.” he smiles wolfishly, dragging his lips down your ample cleavage.

the butterflies in your stomach are going rampant now. he’s making you so nervous and he’s barely even touched you yet. despite the fact he burns, you’re shivering under his touch.

“don’t worry babe,” your husband smiles, fangs on full display, “i won’t break you.”

you nod, giving him full permission to continue. you wanted him to be close to you. you needed him.

homelander’s fingers slide down to your thong over your clothed cunt; fingers massaging the material between your slit.

“i know you did a great job picking this little number,” he growls, “but i think it would look better on the floor.”

without warning, he bunches the material up and over your head, leaving your breasts bare and on display for his eyes only.

he can only imagine what they would look like engorged with milk after he knocks you up.

“oh babe, they’re beautiful.”

you smile shyly, fingers finding their way into his hair, gently tugging at the dark roots.

“you like them..?”

he rolls his eyes, it’s a stupid fucking question. of course he likes them. but since you’re his shy little girl, he’ll indulge you.

“prettiest tits i’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing.”

before you can respond, he flips you on your back against the array of comically large pillows. he’s been waiting so long for this. he deserves this. he deserves to fuck his wife’s tight little virgin pussy.

pushing your panties aside, his fat cock pushes against your entrance, pleading to push in and make you his.

“gonna put it in now, sweetheart.”

he couldn’t have prepared you for the burn you were feeling the minute he filled you up. you felt your eyes start to prick with water. it was going to take a couple minutes to get used to.

“so fucking tight for me,” he hisses.

homelander starts at a slow pace, wanting to ease into you. momentarily, he wishes his first time could’ve been with you. he wishes he could’ve had this experience alongside you, instead of with someone who didn’t care enough about him to stay afterwards.

“fuck!” you mumble, “your’re so big, honey. stretching me open..”

at your praise, he thrusts deeper into you, cock kissing your cervix at a brutal pace. he’s losing control, and you can tell by his thrusts.

“careful john, you’re gonna— oh!”

wanting to redirect his strength to something that isn’t you, he grips the headboard, slamming it against the wall. it barely lasts a minute before crumpling right down the middle.

“gonna fuck a baby into you… make you a mommy,” he grunts, “you wanna carry my kid, babe?”

you feel the bed shake underneath you. he’s fucking you so good, you know you’re not going to last much longer.

“yes john! i wanna be a mommy!” you wail desperately as you come, “give me a baby!”

not long after, homelander spills his seed into your velvety walls, filling you up. the thought of you as the future mother of his child pushes him over the edge. he won’t let you waste any of his come, so he gently pushes the excess back into your weeping cunt.

“that was perfect,” you sigh fondly, “but i still can’t believe you broke the bed..”

“i couldn’t help myself, you were just perfect.” homelander says, pulling you into his bare chest.

“i love you so much.” you mumble before nodding off against him.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader [2.9k] prompt: "Eddie fixing your car." I don't know what happened but this ran away with it's own idea. It was supposed to be a baby blurb, Eddie said no. Car problems, the pretty metalhead you have a crush on, borrowed sweaters and the promise of hot chocolate.

PART TWO - CHOCOLATE

It was almost comical, how quickly Eddie had arrived in comparison to how long it had taken you to call him. 

The only upside to your car breaking down on you was that it had done so by a phone booth. It was a long time coming, you knew that. The old thing had been protesting for a while, the engine groaning every time you turned the key over and something underneath was clanking considerably loud. 

The car had finally coughed one last plume of smoke and gas into the air before it died, rolling to a slow stop on a road just outside of Hawkins. You groaned, already too tired from a long day helping your aunt a few towns over, your legs aching from walking her farmland with her. 

Your parents weren’t home, the only town's garage was closed on Sundays and you had no money on you for a cab. You squinted out of your window, unsure if one of the few buses even came this route. It was late afternoon and dull, and you just wanted to go home.

But a hissing sound was coming from the hood and you squeaked, eyes wide, because if movies had taught you anything, it was that boys don’t stand outside your window with boom boxes and that sound meant a car is going to explode. 

You braved yourself against the chill, summer leaving town along with blue skies and warmer days, fall leaking through its gaps with colder winds and fallen leaves. The road was scattered with leftover puddles, wheat fields on your left, a scattering of sleepy looking cows on your right. 

You kicked a stone and swore at your bad luck. 

Of the few people you knew with cars, you were sure all of them were busy. Steve worked on Sundays, at least until eight o’clock and it was only just turning five now. Besides, you were almost positive he had a date afterwards. 

That would’ve left Nancy but she’d flown to California the week before, jumping at the chance to spend a few weeks with Jonathan, the boy promising to show her the coast, the ocean, the beaches. 

You could’ve asked Hopper, but you didn’t have his home phone number memorised and there was something about calling 911 for such a scenario that seemed entirely too dramatic. 

It took you another half an hour to finally pluck up the courage to call Eddie. You wasted time sitting on the sidewalk, pulling at the hood of the car as it argued noisily with you, before you gave up and fed some grass to the cows instead. 

Then the rain came, slow, fat drops that made you gasp with each hit, lazy in the way they fell from the now navy sky. They soaked through your shirt and flattened your hair, stray strands sticking to your forehead no matter how many times you swiped them away. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to call Eddie. Truthfully, he was the first person you’d thought of. You just weren’t sure how to handle yourself alone with him. He wasn’t the scary, dark character that everyone had thought he was going to be - no, he was quite the opposite. 

Warm, soft - a little dramatic, sure - but ever so gentle in the way he spoke to you. Light touches and friendly smiles that turned to achingly familiar hugs and wide grins that lit up the dreariest of days. 

Nevertheless, the boy made you nervous. 

Big, brown eyes that you were so sure could see straight into your soul, picking out your darkest secrets and everything you hoped he wouldn’t find out. Like, how you had an agonising crush on him. You felt like a clumsy, too shy teenager around him, not a twenty something adult. Your point was proven when you called and answered, voice rough on the other end and you were mortified to realise you’d woken him up. 

Despite this, Eddie arrived in mere minutes and you had never been so happy to see a dodgy looking van come careening towards you on a long, empty road. 

“Hey trouble,” the boy greeted, grinning wide and looking sleep soft, hair mussed from his nap and a giant sweater swapping his frame. 

He looked like a teddy bear. 

“You got here far too fast,” you chided, but you accepted the hand he offered, letting him pull you up from where you sat on the curb. “But thank you.”

Eddie didn’t respond to your scolding, his expression crestfallen as he took in your soaked shirt and damp hair. There was a leftover raindrop clinging to a bottom lash and you held your breath when he moved closer, a gentle fingertip brushing it away.

“You’re soaked,” he noted and you wrinkled your nose, embarrassment taking over because you knew what he was going to ask you next. “Sweetheart, how long have you been sitting out here?”

“Not that long!” You tried to convince him but he was frowning at you, lips almost pouting and if you weren’t so cold, you would’ve laughed. 

“It stopped raining twenty minutes ago,” Eddie pointed out, brows raised as he called you out on your lie. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I-”

“Christ, why didn’t you at least wait in the car?” The boy interrupted, not rudely, just suddenly confused at why you’d chosen to sit in the horrible weather, wet and miserable in the clothes that were now sticking to you.

“It was hissing at me,” you grimaced, sending the old car a withering stare.

“The car?” Eddie asked and if you’d looked at him, you would’ve seen the way he pressed his lips together to hide his laughter, you would’ve caught the fond way he was watching you.

“Mhmm,” you replied, kicking petulantly at one of the back wheels. “Surely that’s a sign of impending doom, right?”

“You spend too much time around Dustin,” Eddie murmured, a smile in his voice despite the way his words sounded like an insult. “It’s just the radiator, sweetheart, you must have a leak.”

Eddie walked to the front of the vehicle and you tried not to stare when he pushed the sleeves of his dark sweater up his forearms, exposing strong muscles and the bracelets he wore. You watched the way he popped the hood, letting out a low whistle at the smoke and steam that billowed out from underneath it.

“Is it dead?” You asked mournfully. You hated the thing but you really didn’t have the extra cash lying around for a replacement.

Eddie gave you a smile that twisted your tummy, all soft and a little dopey. 

“She’s definitely not in her prime, that’s for sure,” he winced when he patted the engine and something squeaked in response. “But I can see if my uncle can tow her, have a little look for you?”

You perked up at the idea, hoping that Eddie’s uncle would take some compensation in the way of a nice bottle of whiskey and some home baking. The mechanic on main didn’t strike you as the fudge brownie type of guy.

“Really? That wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

Eddie let the hood drop back down with a thunk, wiping some of the grease onto his black jeans. He shook his head at you, still smiling, full of so much affection for you that even you were beginning to see it.

“For you? No trouble at all,” Eddie murmured, and if you’d looked carefully enough, you would’ve seen the way he flushed, cheeks adorably pink. “It wouldn’t be until tomorrow though, that alright? She’ll have to stay here overnight.”

You both looked around the deserted road and a cow snuffled at you both, vying for more of the longer grass you’d been feeding it.

“I don’t think I’m in any danger of carjackers in Hawkins,” you squinted at Eddie, lips pulled up into another shy smile as you shoved your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. You felt a little giddy, like this was somehow flirting, like this was the start of something else. 

“Yeah, I think you’re safe,” the boy agreed, shoulder nudging yours. “I mean, I have it on good authority that there’s cat eating lizard creatures around here… personally, I’ve yet to meet them,” Eddie looked at you and winked, “but I don’t think they know how to drive.”

You snorted, a sound that had your eyes wide with embarrassment but Eddie thought it was fucking adorable and he grinned. 

“Stranger things have happened,” you mused, looking up at the boy and he let out a breath, making a noise of agreement.

Maybe it was summer creeping back in for a second, maybe it was stress or maybe it was the way you were both looking at each other but god, you were warm.

“You must be freezing,” Eddie suddenly said, that pretty frown back on his face and before you had a chance to protest, he was grabbing his sweater, hands pulling it off of his frame from the scruff of the neck, leaving him in a t-shirt with an unfamiliar band logo on the front. 

It was soft and warm when he pushed it into your hands and you stared at it, eyes wide. 

“Oh, Eddie, it’s fine, I’m-”

“Behave yourself,” he tutted, but that fond sound was still there, the one that was keeping you warm inside. “Why don’t you jump in the back for a minute, get yourself dry and I can take you home?”

You stared.

Eddie panicked.

“Shit, I mean, if you want? You don’t have to-”

But you were already smiling, bringing the sweater closer to your chest and you walked towards the van, head tilted in a silent ask. 

“Right, yeah, lemme just…” Eddie pulled at the handle, sliding open the side door with a heave, tongue pressed to the top of his lip in concentration and he held out a hand so you could hop in. “I’ll uh, I’ll wait up front.”

And then the door clicked back into place, shutting softly behind him. The little light that made it into the back was soft and warm, the floor covered with an old shag rug that had definitely seen better days but between the old bean bags and cushions, it didn’t smell like the hotbox on wheels you thought it would’ve. 

Sure, it was a little smoky, a herbal hint to the air but you could smell that pine air freshener that hung from the front mirror, Eddie’s cologne and some coffee that was still sitting in a takeaway cup by the dash. 

You waited until the driver's door opened and Eddie slid in, throat clearing awkwardly as he kept his gaze very much ahead. Your eyes met fleetingly in the rear view mirror, cheeks a matching pink before he coughed, looking back to the steering wheel and murmuring a soft apology. 

Despite your embarrassment - you’d gotten to the point of realising it was your new permanent state around Eddie - you slipped off your soaked t-shirt, letting it fall to the van floor with a wet smack. Your bra wasn’t really faring much better but kept it on, shrugging Eddie’s sweater over your head with a pleased sigh. 

It was kinda fleecy on the inside, warm and soft, the sleeves too long and there was a little hole on the cuff. It smelled like Eddie, a familiar mix that you’d come to learn was smoke, weed and his cologne, woody and a little spicy. 

“You’re not getting this back,” you declared bravely, a rather self satisfied smile pulling at your lips as you hid your hands inside the sleeves, tugging it over your fingers to trap in as much heat as possible. 

Eddie sounded awestruck when he answered, grinning at his lap, unsure if he was allowed to look up. “I’m not?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p and sounding far too pleased with yourself. “These jeans are sticking to me, god.”

Eddie looked up when he heard you shuffle closer, brushing against him as you decided to clamber over the seat and into the front of the van. You were right, he noticed, unable to help himself stare at the way the denim was tight against your legs, your curves.

On a normal day, Eddie would’ve been bold enough to make a comment about it, something flirty and a little dirty, a low whisper about how he could help you out of them. But this wasn’t a normal day and you weren’t a normal girl. Not to Eddie.

So he wrinkled his nose instead at your discomfort, a soft hum of sympathy coming from the back of his throat as you got yourself settled beside him. The front bench of the van was long enough to fit three people - four if two of them were small like Max and El - but the boy was delighted when you decided to stay close to him, shoulders brushing, his sweater draped around your knees.

You were right again, he was happy to see, he definitely wasn’t getting that back.

“Okay trouble, where to?” Eddie looked at you patiently, waiting for further instructions as he turned the key in the ignition, making sure the heaters were on max and the vents were all pointed to you. “Home?”

He started driving back into town as he waited for your answer, eyes flicking between you and the road. He watched you chew at your bottom lip, hands twisting the cuffs of his sweater and he knew you well enough by now to know you wanted to ask something, that you were just too shy. 

Eddie thought it was horribly endearing, hating the way he loved it, how it made his chest ache from the softness of it all. Unbeknownst to you, Eddie had already decided that he’d give you anything you’d ask for. 

“Or, you know,” he hedged, voice overly casual. He snuck another glance at you, smiled when you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, waiting. “You could come to mine?”

You paused, waiting, feeling like the boy had more to say but you felt your breath hitch, heard it too and god, you wondered if that meant Eddie had as well. You watched him grin, a slow wide smile that showed the dimples you liked so much, and yes, you thought, fuck, he’d heard.

“Wayne’s out,” he continued, “somethin’ ‘bout a car auction or whatever but… Steve got me the last copy of Day of the Dead.”

It was an invitation, one that made your heart jump and your insides fizz. There it was again, that school girl crush feeling, wholly innocent in the way it made you nervous, entirely sinful in the way you wondered if Eddie would kiss you, press you into the cushions on his couch.

You scrunched your nose instead, a smile and a wrinkle at the mention of the movie everyone had been waiting to be released. “A horror? That’s the one with the zombies, right?”

Eddie laughed, not unkindly, not at you and he nodded. “That’s the one, yeah. It’s a George A. Romero film.” He looked at you, all warm honey and fond eyes. “Not a fan, sweetheart?”

You didn’t say no, because you wanted to spend time with the boy. But you didn’t say yes either, the lie refusing to slip from your lips and you shrugged instead, shy smile pulling at you as Eddie chuckled again.

“Y’know, I heard hot chocolate helps,” his voice was all faux conspiracy, a husky whisper as he took the chance to lean into you a little more, both hands still on the wheel but his hair brushing against your temple. 

You flushed. “Helps what?”

“Pretty girls who’ve been stuck out in the rain and are scared of zombies.”

You felt positively scorching. The smile couldn’t be helped, that agonising pull that showed off your embarrassment just as much as how pleased you were, eyes rolling so you didn’t have to look at the boy but you knew he was grinning, you could feel it.

“Oh yeah?” You managed, sliding another look at Eddie, all soft longing and what if?

“Oh yeah,” he grinned and you huffed out a laugh when he took the turn away from your street, confidently heading to the trailer park instead. You didn’t tell him no. “I make a fucking fantastic hot chocolate.”

“You got marshmallows?” You were beaming now, eyes shining, wrapped up in the attention he was giving you. 

“Do I have marshma- sweetheart, behave yourself, do I look like a man who’s got marshmallows in his cupboards?”

You laughed, a bright burst that made Eddie’s chest swell, like sunshine on the first day of fall and he cackled when you nodded.

“Yeah actually, you do.”

“You’re right,” Eddie huffed out between throaty chuckles, “I do, I have marshmallows.” Another laugh, from both of you. “I have like five kinds.”

Eddie had pulled the van into park by the time you’d both stopped laughing, cheeks sore from smiling, tears brimming at your lash line at the ridiculousness of it all, ‘cause your stupid car was abandonded on the side of the road and Eddie Munson was promising you marshmallows in your hot chocolate. 

It felt almost redundant when he turned to you, suddenly looking as shy as you felt, hand on the door and his head inclined to the warm looking trailer, soft light coming from the windows.

“You wanna come in?”