#it’s my first sweater and second project ever

[ba-dum-chaa]

have to decide on a next knitting project i’m finally in the last like quarter of my sweater

[newyorkxpizza]

finally finished this sweater i started like two years ago and i don’t even like it i want to frog it and redo the whole thing

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

please do something with peter parker for vday. I miss you writing for him

I started writing this one last year for Valentine's Day...forgive me for the long wait

—

‘’No, you don’t understand, Ned. It needs to be perfect,’’ Peter explained, turning to his best friend for help.

‘’My longest and only relationship lasted about sixty hours, so I’m not really the one to come to for Valentine’s Day gift ideas.’’ 

‘’Uncle Ben always gave May flowers and chocolate.’’ And Peter always tried to steal chocolate from the box. ‘’But Y/N is Mr. Stark’s daughter, I can’t just buy her flowers and chocolate. She’ll think I’m poor.’’ 

‘’Didn’t you tell me this morning that you only have five dollars in your pockets?’’ Ned recalled, taking one of the homemade cookies his lola had put into his lunch bag and taking a bite. There was one for Peter too, but he was too busy worrying and panicking.

Peter groaned and hid his face in his crossed arms, frustrated and desperate. Being broke was a second problem to his Valentine’s Day plan. ‘’What am I gonna do? Valentine’s Day is in two days. I can’t not get her anything.’’ 

‘’If you go back to the roots of Valentine’s Day, it’s about celebrating love. You don’t have to spend money to show someone you love them.’’ Peter opened his mouth, but Ned spoke first. ‘’Even if she’s a Stark and bathes in money,’’ he added. ‘’She didn’t fall in love with you because of your economic status, she fell in love because of who you are.’’

On the big day, Peter set everything up in his living room. May was on a date with Happy, so he had the apartment to himself — until 10pm. He didn’t have a projector, so he made one with a shoebox and a magnifying glass, and hung a sheet to one of the walls to turn into a screen. He made cheese pastas and brought over the single chocolate cupcake he was able to afford. 

He was nervous, constantly checking his phone waiting for your ‘I’m here’ text. When he finally got it, Peter rushed to the door, smoothing his button up and fixing his hair before opening. If he was this nervous for Valentine’s Day, he didn’t want to imagine the nervous wreck he would be at his wedding. 

Not that he was planning on getting married anytime soon. 

‘’Happy Valentine’s Day,’’ you said with a smile on your glossy lips. 

Peter said the words back and let you in, gulping when his eyes fell on the small gift bag you were holding. You set it down on the table to take off your coat and boots, revealing a pink sweater and a sparkly necklace that cost probably more than anything in May's apartment.

You followed Peter to the living room, excitement bubbling in your stomach when seeing the frozen image of your favorite rom-com projected on the wall.  ‘’You made this?’’ 

Peter gave you a small nod. Projectors were easy to make. He learned how in a science book for kids when he was nine. May was so impressed when he showed her his ‘magic box’. 

‘’It’s not much, but—’’ he started to say, but you shut him up with a kiss. 

‘’Stop it,’’ you said, guessing his train of  thoughts. ‘’This is the best Valentine’s Day gift ever.’’ 

You never had another valentine before him — beside the little boys in middle school who sent you cards and heart lollipops  —, but Peter’s gift came from the heart. It was thoughtful and personal, therefore meant a lot to you. 

After eating the pastas, you handed Peter the gift bag. He was nervous just from holding it. 

He slowly pulled out the festive tissue papers and groaned when seeing a red and blue plush toy. ‘’Spiderman? Really?’’ Peter made an annoyed face. He didn't want to come off as ungrateful, but he was getting tired of the jokes with the Spiderman merch he had no control over. 

‘’Press his chest,’’ you instructed, ignoring his complaints.

Peter gave you a confused look, but listened. ‘’I love you, my Spidey,’’ the toy said.

You watched his expressions shift from confusion to surprise, Peter’s eyes widening when he recognized the sound of your voice. A genuine smile spread across his face, the small plush taking a whole other meaning. ‘’That's your voice,’’ he whispered, still holding the talking Spiderman plush. 

You nodded, the sparks in Peter’s eyes telling you that no expensive gift could have matched this one. He was truly touched. ‘’I know you don’t like when I get you expensive things, so I didn’t get you a new watch,’’ you explained, thinking back at the Cartier watch you hesitated on last week. He would have hated it. 

Turning toward you, Peter enveloped you in a hug to properly thank you. 

Your arms wrapped around him in return. ‘’Even when I’m not with you, you’ll always have something to remind you that I love you.’’ 

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch  @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin  @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife  @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation  @aabananaa @starrrslove  @angeliod @nmedina8611 @1stevelacyfan  @yourfavdummy @laylasbunbunny  @slytherhoes @pedrosprincess  @luvvtxinityy @Eddiefrickenmunson @wandaswigglywoos @mikaelsonsstuff  @tcddszn  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous  @popeheywardssecretgf @kattybug @loverofdrewstarkey  @sl4sh3rfuck3r  @luci1fer @dingus0401  @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @t-candy  @adaydreamaway08  @johannelis2302nely  @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @mymultiveres @hopeurokays @not-liah @beth-gallagher22  @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking  @rubyliquor @Danniackerman  @angelxxrose @angelxxrose  @upwritingallnight  @cruzgrecia @evelestrange  @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @hoeforsirius  @secretsthathauntus  @sarcasm-and-stiles

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

[vhstown]

hobie green

— hobie brown x gn!reader

summary: You never knew punks could be into gardening — or into you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, brief mentions of politics, fluff, not very edited

a/n: based on a silly headcanon me and @qiuweyballs came up with. 99% identical to my tag team fic arrest me i love friends to lovers (just lovers in my drafts prommie)

There were a lot of things you didn't expect about your friend Hobie. The first thing was that he was Spider-Man (but you kind of figured after all those patch-up sessions at your place.) Second, was that he lived on a boat — not the most outrageous thing; somewhat non-conformist, somewhat Hobie-like — he wasn't the only boater in Camden. The third thing you didn't expect, however, was that this “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and whatever other label he'd projected, would have so many… plants.

“You're lookin’ at me funny.”

The “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and now plant dad in question sat with his feet propped up against one of the many windows of his canal boat, an unassuming eyebrow raised.

“…Nah, don't worry about it,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you tried not to knock anything over, taking in the overflowing greenery of the room.

There was pretty much every plant you could think of: regular household plants under the windows, a tomato stalk in the corner, small cacti in odd places — he even had a pretty well-maintained chilli plant, bathing more gloriously in a patch of sunlight than you ever could. The boat felt more like a disorganised plant shop than a home, if it weren't for the rowdy radical posters and punk collages peeking in-between. Maybe these plants were as much like your friend as all the anarchy-themed decoration he’d made himself — or Hobie had just stolen a boat with a lot of plants in it.

Squeezing past some more foliage, you sat beside Hobie on his tiny canvas couch. He gave you a glance of acknowledgement before reaching for his guitar, setting it between his kicked-up legs as you tried to get more comfortable. The red coating of the instrument had almost entirely peeled off, instead covered by loud stickers and scratchy writing. You weren’t sure what any of it really meant, or why his guitar wasn’t tuned in the first place (it never seemed to be when you two were hanging out) — but right now, you were wondering why he was being so quiet. The silence was nice, though, so you didn’t let yourself think of anything else to ask.

Swaying gently from time to time, the canal boat hummed with the splashing of water and faint strumming of Hobie’s guitar. These quiet, almost tranquil moments were unexpected for someone as spontaneous as Hobie, but they were also welcome, you decided. The world was falling apart, but it was nice to be away from that in the middle of a canal with your best friend — even with his many plants.

You felt a tug behind your back, realising Hobie was trying to get something. Mumbling a quick sorry, you moved to let him get the thing you were sitting on. It was a pink jumper — much too small to be his. After carefully draping it over the backrest, he cracked a smile at you.

“Gotta give that to Gwendy,” he told himself, nails tapping on the back of the guitar neck.

Gwendy (Gwen? Wendy?) was a friend he'd made recently, and you’d never seen a trace of her despite the fact that they supposedly lived together. That was until now; the sweater looked nice, soft, high-quality — nothing like anything you could afford here. Maybe she was well-off. How old even was she? Did Gwendy like plants too?

“Yeah? Is she your roommate?” you inquired, leaning forward to look at him. “Boatmate?”

“You sayin’ this isn’t a room?” Hobie set his guitar against the wall as if the conversation was suddenly more important.

“More like a garden.”

He tilted his head to the side at your response, finally meeting your eyes with his own glinting with amusement.

“You want a tour, then? Private — totally elitist.”

“Have you got more plants or something?”

He crossed his arms at you. “You’re actin’ like it’s a problem.”

It wasn’t a problem, per se, you just couldn’t imagine living with so many plants. Maybe it was his superhuman reflexes that kept him from slipping and smashing his face into a plant pot; you almost tripped on some dead roots earlier.

“Nah nah, it’s not. You got uh… free oxygen.” Clearly there wasn’t enough oxygen going to your brain at that moment if that's the only thing you could come up with. You held back a sigh; you’d never be as fast as Hobie. He just snickered.

“They privatise oxygen too?” Not his most clever quip, you thought.

“Maybe. Is that why you have so many plants? To breathe better?”

Hobie gave you a frown. If you didn't know better, you might've felt bad. “You don’t want the tour?”

“Go on,” you beckoned, dryly.

“Get up, then.”

“Can’t be bothered.” The sofa creaked as you leaned back on it, folding your arms as if you were going to sleep. If it was still quiet, maybe you could’ve actually fallen asleep to the gentle rocking motion of the boat.

“You come over to have a snooze?” he teased, leaning over until you pushed him away — one of his usual ways of driving you mad; you wouldn’t have it. “Want to be my boatmate too?”

“Wouldn’t mind.” The words came out by themselves, but you figured they might be true.

“Gwendy’s only here sometimes — you could.”

“I’d miss my place,” you objected, feeling slightly uncertain at the idea now. It was probably better if that weird feeling in your chest whenever you saw Hobie wasn’t a constant in your life anyway.

“Your place is only good for the pub down the road.” Maybe so — you two certainly weren’t good for the pub, though. All you did was shrug in response.

Hobie tapped his foot for a moment, appearing to muse about something. Before you knew it, he slid his hand between your back and the sofa and you were suddenly your feet in one swift motion.

“Hey—” The floor creaked as he started walking you out to the front of the boat, arm slung around your shoulder. You sighed reluctantly at him, but his grin just widened.

“You starting the tour from here?” Despite the cool wind now rushing past the two of you, your tone came out less energetic than you’d like.

Your heart dropped for a moment as Hobie let go of you, suddenly jumping up backwards onto the barriers. He crouched easily on the edge as you let out a small breath of relief. Even if there was no chance he’d fall into the water, you’d never get used to that.

“Nah, no tour,” he replied, hands on his knees as he looked down at you with squinted eyes. “I ain't no elitist.”

The lingering fear in your chest from Hobie’s stunt died down, and the way the late-day sun was hitting his face replaced it with that weird swishing sensation you could never get used to.

Honey-gold sunlight reflected off of his skin, his face shimmering where there were angles and glowing softly where there weren’t. His eyes glistened like copper, your own face in the reflection like the rich people on coins as you searched for any trace of amusement in his expression. You couldn’t find anything; he was just looking at you. The swishing became more like a crashing tide, your chest growing tighter. Maybe you should’ve feigned interest in the plants when you could.

“…Okay,” you managed, after realising that you’d been staring for a while. Tearing your eyes away from the tall, glistening silhouette of your best friend who was sitting like the figurehead of a sailing ship, you looked back into the boat house before another little plant caught your attention. It was the only plant sitting outside — a young rosemary with a paper tag attached to it.

You squatted down to look at it, figuring that Hobie had nothing to say right now. Taking the tag in your hands, you read “Helen”, written in lovely cursive writing.

“Helen… you name your plants?” It was too nice to be Hobie’s handwriting, but you decided to joke a bit anyway.

“Yeah,” he answered, deadpan, and you tried not to let him catch your eyeroll. “Some lady comin’ through Regent’s gave it to me.”

“People give you plants?”

“All the time, actually.”

Huh… It made enough sense. You did see your fair share of plants in other boats; maybe people wanted to give Spider-Man a thanks or something, or just get rid of some plants they get lying around. You recalled aloe plant you saw earlier, having almost slipped on the pile of dead roots beside it — interesting to gift a rotting plant. It looked like it needed a lot of care; you wondered who could get an aloe to that point.

Deciding to sit by the much nicer rosemary plant with your back against the doors, you caught the faint aroma of the leaves. If Hobie already had vegetable plants, he’d probably make good use out of this one once it got a little more mature. Maybe as a seasoning, or make it into an oil somehow, or just leave it as decoration. There was a lot you could do, you realised, and having plants was starting to look just a little cool. Everything Hobie did was cool — as much as you didn’t like to admit it.

“…What’s up with you?”

Hobie’s voice caught you off guard. You looked back to see that the figurehead was now sitting opposite you on the floor of the little outdoor cockpit, hands loose between his bent knees.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t just tell like that, could he? Nothing was different… until recently. Until you realised you had that feeling.

“You're quiet,” he stated, though his tone wasn't all that serious. “Y’don’t come over, or come see old Hobie.”

“Old Hobie,” you repeated, half of a laugh coming out of your mouth. “Like Old Tom?”

Tom was the bar owner of the pub you frequented — if your antics could be considered “frequenting”. The two of you were probably the reason why he was “Old” Tom.

“Need to see that geezer,” Hobie mused, leaning back against the wood with a creak.

“A lot of people you’ve gotta see.” It came out far too sardonic, and you held your breath like you’d just placed a bet.

Hobie stuck his bottom lip out, lip ring catching the light. “Like you.”

The sun had faded by now, but that feeling hadn’t, you realised.

“I'm right here,” you replied.

“I brought you.”

“It’s not like I knew which out of the hundred boats was yours. Half of them’ve got plants anyway.”

“You do now.”

“I guess.”

Stretching a little, you shifted to sit more like Hobie, leg brushing against the rosemary leaves for a moment. Hobie cracked his knuckles in the meantime, and you realised you hadn’t really seen him in a while. It wasn’t all your fault, he just kept disappearing. Maybe you should stop waiting for him to come to you all the time.

“I’ll see you again before you have to go to the care home, Old Hobie,” you muttered, getting a snicker out of him.

“They’ll never get me in one of those.”

“You don’t wanna be an elder punk?”

“Not in them institutions — I’ll bail you out as well.”

You never imagined the thought of growing old with someone would go in this direction. Well, it was Hobie.

“I appreciate it, Old Hobie” you replied, though not too enthusiastically. Hobie smirked.

“Come pub with me, then. Don’t need ID if I’m retired.” Despite your best efforts, you smiled just a little.

It wasn’t like you gave Tom ID anyway, but you found it amusing regardless. Maybe it was the idea of being like those old people at the pub: loud, obnoxious, opiniated… Nothing much would change, actually.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How come?” Hobie leaning forward on his knees, as if to taunt you. “Scared you’ll get pissed like last time?”

“I did not get pissed!” you retorted, face aching with an incriminating smile. Your stomach churned with the memory of that night — or lack thereof.

“Had to actually peel you off me. My Spider Powers didn’t even help.”

You groaned and laughed at the same time, trying to ease the embarrassment by putting a hand on the plant pot; it was cool, and you felt a chip near the rim.

“Don’t lie.”

“Never did.”

“Fine, yeah.” It sounded like a bit like an admission to a crime; maybe getting that drunk was a crime. “Don’t wanna get pissed like last time.”

Hobie’s smirk faded a bit, before he let out a sigh — those were rare for him, you thought.

“Seriously though, we gotta go again sometime — it’s on you, yeah?”

You frowned at that, but it got no reaction out of him. “You’re the worst.”

“Like I don’t know.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but Hobie didn’t seem to question it.

Maybe he did actually know what was going on with you, even if you never tried to make a move. It was possible — the observant prick. A prick with a green thumb and looked like he’d been kissed by the sun itself and that you couldn't get out of your head.

If he did know, you wished he'd say something, at least.

Your hand lingered on the pot, and the paper tag found its way into your hands again.

“Helen,” you stated, glimpsing at the nice handwriting.

“You gonna call it that now?”

“Got a better name?”

“Yours,” he replied, too easily.

You weren’t sure what a rosemary plant was like, but it sounded enough like a compliment. Did rosemary have a meaning? Hobie wasn’t thinking that deep, of course. Not about things like labels, no matter how many you had for him.

“Am I like a rosemary?”

“Dunno. If you were a plant, I’d keep you though.”

That made you laugh, albeit awkwardly.

“…What are you on about?” you muttered, shaking your head. “Random… You keep like, any plant anyway.”

“I keep the ones I like.”

“Your boat's a greenhouse. Maybe you just like every plant.”

“Maybe I just like you.”

A jolt of pain ran in your mouth, eyes almost squeezing shut — you’d bit your tongue. Hobie was silent, so you couldn’t be.

“Maybe,” you murmured through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” he repeated, with his usual unbothered amusement that drove your feelings back into hiding. Hobie Brown — “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist — your best friend.

You’d get over it, you told yourself — not for the first time.

Now with a weird attachment to the plant, you tried to seem interested in the tag again — you could say it’d… grown on you. Would he make a joke like that? You wanted to crumple the tag. It looked too nice to do that, so you turned it around to look at the back instead.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship, love.”

A dry laugh escaped your mouth; even this plant was mocking you. Maybe it felt sorry.

“What’s got you laughin’?” You almost forgot about Hobie; that would’ve been nice. No, you’d get over it soon.

“You better name this plant after me,” you joked, more so to yourself, and in a very much self-pitying way even though he wouldn’t get it. As Hobie’s gaze trailed to the tag, that feeling in your chest threatened you, so you ripped it off before he could see it.

Thwip! Mistake. In a second, the tag was in Hobie’s hand. His face was unreadable as he looked at the back, no longer gold with sunlight.

“Yeah,” he mused, folding over the edge with his nail as his eyes met yours. You tried not to bite your tongue again.

“Yeah…?” You couldn't even give him an awkward laugh.

He held up the tag to show you the folded bit. There was a single word, the rest cut off — “love.”

“Your name fits pretty well.”

Your mouth was so dry, not even a cactus could live in it.

“I’d rather you not be a plant, by the way,” he continued, despite how lost you must’ve looked. “Be yourself, at the pub, tomorrow — opening time. Dress how you want.”

No words were coming out of your mouth. Hobie didn’t need you to say anything, though.

“It’s on me.”

You couldn't leave him hanging. You also couldn’t shy away forever, not when it was right in front of your face. Not when he'd just asked you out.

”…Like a date?”

“Better than a date.”

A smile formed on your lips. After that feeling had been buried under the soil for so long, it was starting to blossom, like the little blue flowers on a rosemary bush.

“Okay,” you replied, winning something that was neither a grin nor a smirk from him — a smile, warm like sunlight, and just like yours.

“Okay.” Hobie chucked the tag back to you, the edge still folded over as you took it in your hand.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship,”

“love.”

“I’ll let you keep it, if you want.”

Your smile turned into a grin as you brushed your fingertips over the leaves. “I’ll think about it.”

Spice, oil, decoration — this plant had one more use: getting you a date.

Maybe you liked plants more than you originally thought.

🕸️🔭🎸

thank you for reading !! honestly the friends to lovers thing was so not planned i just wrote this for fun (intended to be a drabble / imagine but it turned into this) less friends more lovers in the future hopefully?

thank you again to my friend chewy ^^ tom is actually his chr + the aloe plant detail

reblogs & feedback are super appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that I wrote in like 15 minutes don’t judge me

I feel like both Bal and Ambrosius are the kinds of people who try and act like they’re not sick 

Bal has an amazing immune system he rarely if ever gets sick 

But when he does get sick he’ll be in absolute denial about it 

If someone confronts him all he’ll say is “No I’m fine I don't get sick” and then he’ll push himself until he’s literally sitting in a hospital still acting like he’s not sick 

Ambrosius has the worst immune system you can possibly imagine 

Someone sneezes on this boy and he’s sick for the next two weeks 

But he’s also sick enough times that he’s convinced himself that he can work through anything 

After a while he’s literally forced to relax and be taken care of and he complains the entire time that he should be working 

I’ve kind of alluded to this headcanon but I don’t think Nimona can get sick

But if she could get sick she would be the most annoying person known to mankind 

She would have a sore throat and make the biggest deal about it and force the boys to take care of her

And the boys will comply because this is one of the few times that Nimona lets them take care of her 

I mentioned in this post tags that they all hand make every single present 

The first thing that Bal ever made/gave Ambrosius was welded rose that he made out of scrap metal 

He thought it was a stupid present but Ambrosius got super emotional and said it was the best present he had ever received 

Bal highly doubted that cause Ambrosius literally got a car as a birthday present once 

But then he saw it in a little vase that Ambrosius made and it became kind of a tradition after that

During every big event in their lives Bal welded Ambrosius a rose and he kept every single one 

By the time the knighting ceremony rolled around he had close to 80

Ambrosius made more heavy-duty vases just to hold all of the flowers 

It’s kind of sweet because you can see both of their hobbies improving as the years go on 

The first gift Bal ever got from Ambrosius was a sweater he crochet himself 

He made it cause he knows that Bal runs cold and he would make off-handed comments about it every once and a while

He was kind of nervous cause he never took on a project that big before 

Bal wore it all the damn time 

He treated that sweater like it was gold which is why he was crushed when it started unraveling 

He went to Ambrosius sobbing with an arm full of yarn apologizing and saying he ruined it

Mind you he gave him that sweater like 5 years prior and had knitted and crocheted him a million things afterwards 

It was a miracle that the sweater lasted as long as it did 

He spent the entire night consoling him while asking for his input on the new one he was currently working on 

The first gift Bal and Ambrosius gave Nimona made him tear up and cling to them as an actual koala for the rest of the night 

Bal welded him a little dragon and Ambrosius crocheted him a little rhino

The first gift Nimona gave the boys was for both of them

It was a painting of the three of them the boys thought it was beautiful but also incredibly out of character 

Until they gave them the second painting of the three of them fighting guards as the institute burned down behind them

The boys framed both and hung them in the living room

Whenever Ambrosius goes anywhere he’s swarmed by groups of people and sometimes those people will ask questions about his clothes and jewelry 

And he gets this proud look in his eyes while he says “Oh my kid made this in the living room 15 minutes before I left the house” 

When Bal proposed he actually made both the engagement and their wedding rings 

He always got compliments on both rings and Ambrosius would let them get a better look while gushing about all the little details that were put into it

And this doesn’t stop when Bal and Nimona are around either 

In fact he’ll drag them over and gush about them while they get progressively more embarrassed

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Pass me the — thing.”

“The thing.”

“Yes. The one.”

Hunk’s amusement is evident. “Here’s the thing about capital-T Things, Pidge Podge.”

She makes a face. Ugh, not him too. The annoying nicknames Lance comes up with always seem to end up in other people’s vocabularies. It’s the worst. (They don’t even make sense, either. Her name comes from Pascha, her Hebrew name, because she was tiny even when she was a baby. And Matt is ridiculous. But Lance’s names come from nowhere!)

(…She supposes she’ll allow it, though. Occasionally. Because she’s the best ever, basically, and endlessly benevolent.)

“Things in concept are referential,” Hunk continues, snickering to himself as he dodged her blind kick. “Ergo, you need to reference them. Specifically. Outside of your own brain.”

She makes a noise of frustration, tilting her head in the direction of the scrap pile on Hunk’s work table. “The thing! Shiny! With the— blegh!” She is Focused right now, alright. There are Processes happening in her brain. Words are secondary.

“I’m just going to ignore you now.”

“No! The thing! The thing that looks like a dreidel!”

“There we go,” he says emphatically. She scowls at him. He grins brightly. She holds her glare for a whopping three seconds, which is frankly record-breaking, so. Point to her. “That’s a referential Thing.”

He scoops up the piece and tosses it at her. She catches it without looking (which is wicked cool and something she will subtly mention next time she watches Allura drop something) and sets it on the table top beside her, finishing up a tricky solder. Leaning back to admire her handiwork, which is, indeed, quite handy, her gaze keeps getting pulled to the little part.

“You know, it really does look like a dreidel.” She picks it up by the stem, flicking the little acorn-shaped object and watching it spin. It works like one, too.

Hunk hums. After a few moments, curious at the air newly lacking the sounds of her tinkering, he looks over at her. He purses his lips thoughtfully.

“…What day is it on Earth, do you think?”

Pidge shrugs. “We left in late May. Been a few months, at least.”

“Lance has a watch.”

“Course he does. ‘Cause he’s a big ol’ nerd geek loser.”

Hunk snorts. “Indeed.”

At the same time, without either of them having to say a word, they scramble to their feet, abandoning their projects and rushing out the workroom door.

“Pool?” Hunk asks.

“Nah, training room. He was in the pool this morning.”

Neither of them is particularly fast, but after months of Shiro’s training they can handle their own. They don’t, sprint, per se, because that would be embarrassing and Lance would be all dorky and pleased about it (can’t have that), but they…hustle. Hustle would be the right word. There’s some hastiness about, some purpose to their step.

As they run past the kitchen and finally turn down the corridor to get to the training room, a door opens on the left and someone walks out. Hunk grabs the back of Pidge’s sweater (totally not Keith’s grey hoodie that she stole) to keep her from crashing straight into them.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk says, smiling brightly. “We were just looking for you!”

Lance, predictably, gets all dorky and pleased about it.

“Well, Lancey-Lance is at your service,” he preens, brushing fake dust off his shoulders. “Of course I am happy to offer my services to such —”

“Why’d you come outta Keith’s room?” Pidge interrupts, squinting.

She’s pretty sure that’s Keith’s room, anyway. The door on the left has a dent on it from when Lance tripped and brained himself on it in their first week of space.

Curiously — oh so curiously — Lance turns a violent shade of red and cringes with his whole entire body.

“Whaaat,” he says, voice cracking so many times she actually winces in reflective sympathy. He laughs nervously. “That’s not — I’m not — Keith isn’t —”

He opens his mouth, then closes it, then coughs, then doesn’t bother. Pidge can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, which is so humiliating that she almost decides to be merciful.

“Is Keith also in there?” she says instead, because fuck that.

Lance looks at the floor like he’s considering swan diving onto it. “What did you guys need me for again?” he asks, loudly.

Hunk, too soft from years of close proximity to Lance, takes pity. “We need your watch, dude. What day is it on Earth?”

Lance’s dark eyes go a bit sad, like they always do when someone mentions the E-word. But it’s gone before Pidge can so much as register it, really, and then he’s glancing down at his dork ass bright blue Moana watch and saying, “One twenty-six on December 7th.”

Pidge cheers. Hunk grins.

“Clear your schedule!” Pidge shouts, pumping her fists. “Hanukkah starts in a few hours!”

———

“An…oil…feast?”

“Yeah!” Pidge says enthusiastically. Allura leans forward, intrigued — she loves stories from Earth. Anything from Earth fascinates her, really. “Thousands of years ago, Jews — my people culturally and religiously — had just freed themselves from the cruel rule of a kingdom that resided over them. They wanted to purify the Temple — that’s where practicing Jews go to pray — so they were burning holy oil. But there was only one bottle of sacred oil, which was upsetting, since that would only burn for one night. But miraculously, the oil kept burning for eight nights!”

Allura gasps. “But how?”

Pidge shrugs. “Religious Jews believe it was a miracle from God, who is our holy deity. Whether or not you’re religious though, Hanukkah is celebrated at the end of every year to commemorate Jewish resilience and hope. The oil is our physical way of celebrating, ‘cause it burned for eight days exactly — as long as it takes to make more oil.”

“And so we get to celebrate by eating delicious fried food,” Lance adds, fist-pumping. He grins at Pidge’s raised eyebrows. “My sister-in-law is Jewish, so my neice and nephew are too. We celebrate Hanukkah every year and it rocks.”

Pidge can feel her smile lighting up her body. There are bigger celebrations, and more religiously important ones, but Hanukkah is so much fun. She hasn’t celebrated in too long — it came and went last year before she even noticed, too wrapped up in finding her brother. And the year before that, her and Mom couldn’t…not without Dad and Matt. They couldn’t celebrate with just the two of them, they spent most evenings in their own rooms.

Shiro’s steady hand comes to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently. She glances up to find him smiling sadly at her, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“We’ll light a candle for each of them,” he murmurs into her hair. “Colleen, too.”

“Is that what’s done?” Coran inquires softly. “Candles lit, in remembrance?”

Pidge hums, leaning back into Shiro. He holds steady, hand staying fast on her shoulder. Keith flashes her one of his quick smiles, small and comforting.

“Yeah. Eight candles, in something called a menorah. One for each night, one for each intention.” She meets Coran’s eyes first, then Allura’s, her own expression determined. “We’ll light a candle for Altea, too.”

“I would like that,” whispers Allura, swallowing.

“I can make the menorah,” Hunk offers, “if you and Lance want to help. Lance has a good eye for design.”

Pidge takes a couple more moments in Shiro’s embrace, soaking up some of his strength. No one interrupts her. Once she feels like she can stand straight again, like her family is tucked neatly where they usually are in the centre of her heart rather than spilling out all over the place, she stands, patting Shiro’s hand as it falls away, and steps towards her friends.

“Yes, let’s do. We’ll need a few things, actually, to get ready. Keith, you think you can paint the right symbols on the dreidel if I describe them to you?”

He nods. “Yep. I’ll draw ‘em out first, it shouldn’t take long. I think I’ve seen them before, anyway.”

“Cool. Allura, Coran, you wanna put up some decorations? Lance can help you out.”

All three enthusiastically agree, rushing off to make do.

“Shiro —” She falters. “Uh, dude, maybe steer clear of the kitchen. Wanna help with the menorah since Lance is on decorations? Then Hunk’ll have more time to cook.”

Shiro pouts, as he always does when he’s teased about his cursed kitchen tendencies, but the twitch of his smile gives him away.

“I guess,” he laments. “I’m sure I could fry latkes without burning the castle down.”

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk shudder in unison.

“Yeah, right,” Keith says. “You remember when you set a pot of water on fire, Hazard Boy? Because I do.”

———

For people who have no idea what they’re doing, the decorations end up looking really nice.

Everything does, actually. By the time Lance’s watch hits six — the time they have all collectively decided will be sundown based on absolutely nothing — everything is prepped and ready to go. Keith got the characters down after a couple tries, and the dreidel looks like any other one Pidge has used before. Lance had, from what Pidge picked up from Allura’s grumbling, channeled his inner festivity dictator to ensure all decorations were as lovely as possible with their limited materials. Of course the menorah Hunk and Pidge created looks beautifully intricate, one of the more gorgeous things Pidge has ever seen even with all the wonky mismatched candles.

“Okay,” Hunk says, clapping his hands together. “If you guys want to set up the table, Lance and I will be finished plating the food shortly. I dunno about you guys, but I’ve been smelling fried food for a couple hours now, and I need to eat.”

“Please,” Pidge groans, because she’s been smelling it too and boy is Hunk ever a head chef.

Everyone rushes to get the table set as quickly as possible. Pidge makes sure to put Lance’s favourite cup (that he has a hissy fit if anyone else so much as looks at, even though it is practically identical to ever other cup except one tiny chip one the bottom that he loves for some reason) next to the chair closest to the door, where Keith always sits, because she has not forgotten the Earlier Incident. If all goes well then something embarrassing will happen for her to witness, which is all she can ask for, really.

“Can someone who is not Allura come help me bring food over?” Hunk calls from the kitchen as Pidge places the last fork. “No offense, Princess, but I watched you and Lance walk into the same door this morning and I’d rather our hard work not end up splatted and inedible on the floor.”

“Offense taken,” says Allura darkly, and Lance’ whining echoes all the way to where they’re standing.

Keith meets Pidge’s eye and snickers.

“I got it, Hunk,” he calls, jogging over to them.

“Absolutely not!” Lance screeches. “There is no way I will allow Mullet to be entrusted with something I am not allowed to —”

He cuts himself off with a loud shriek. Whether Keith finally pinched him quiet or Lance is just shrieking for drama’s sake Pidge will never know, but moments later the red paladin is striding out of the kitchen, heaping bowl in one hand, batting Lance away with the other.

“If you drop that I’ll kill you both,” Hunk promises, setting the heaping plate he’s holding down on the table.

Thankfully, nothing gets dropped (although does it ever come close). Everyone is accounted for and seated and nothing has gone to waste, and Pidge’s stomach is growling.

“Got a little bit of everything,” Hunk says. “Classic latkes, kugel, and sufganiyot. And you mentioned the zippoli and arancini your Nonna used to make, Pidge, so I made some of that too. And Lance made lots of masitas and plátanos.”

“Hope that’s okay,” Lance says, face kind of scrunched. “I know it’s not traditional, but we had it on Hanukkah, and I thought —”

Pidge grins at him. “Looks great, man.”

Everyone takes turns passing food around and loading up their plate. Pidge takes four zippoli. She regrets nothing. She has had none in several years and this looks perfect.

Before anyone starts, all eyes turn to Pidge, so she squeezes her eyes shut and remembers her mother’s blessing: “Barukh ata Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam shehakol niyah bidvaro.” She opens her eyes again. “Dig in, everybody.”

No one needs to be told twice. For a while the castle is even shockingly silent, everyone too busy shoving their faces. Keith chokes on latke. Shiro laughs at him until the red on his face is from more than a lack of oxygen.

“I love human food,” gushes Allura, inhaling more plátanos. “You guys got to eat like this every day?”

“Unless you lived with someone who regular fucks up ramen noodles,” Keith says pointedly, dodging Shiro’s under-the-table-kick.

“I think Numbers Two and Three might just be talented in the kitchen,” Coran responds. Both Hunk and Lance beam at the praise.

After dinner — and lordy it does not take long to polish it off — they clear the plates away, tidying up the table, as Pidge sets out the menorah. She carefully sets out the candles they have gathered, arranging and re-arranging the order. When she’s satisfied, she picks up the smallest candle, thin green stripes running up its sides, and places it in the space at the far right. She picks up the shamash — choosing the thickest and tallest one — and accepts the lighter Keith offers her. Once it is flaming, she holds it outwards, and begins to softly recite the blessings she memorized so long ago:

“Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, she-asah nisim laavoteinu v’imoteinu bayamim hahaeim baz’man hazeh. Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v'kiy'manu v'higiyanu laz'man hazeh.”

She says the words slowly, carefully, allowing herself to feel the shape of them on her tongue. They are familiar. They are heavy. They get caught in her throat, tangled, and stay there until tears begin to trickle down her cheeks, softening the way out. Her voice shakes, but she feels her own strength spreading through her like the heat of the shamesh candle.

“Make it home to me, Matt,” she whispers, as she lights the first candle.

———

“Okay, there is no fucking way.”

Pidge cackles at Keith’s indignant protest, accepting Lance’s sharp high-five and dragging in the entire pot of tokens again.

The two of them are absolutely fucking killing it. Their token piles are high. Keith has had to begrudgingly ask Lance for a loan no less than six times. Everyone else is dangerously low, except for Coran, who’s doing alright.

Pidge thinks this is righteous. As the two youngest, she and Lance should be winning by birthright, basically.

“Suck it, Kogane,” she says gleefully. She flicks a token at him. “Take some charity.”

Keith scowls at her, but takes the token because he is too broke not to. It is greatly amusing.

Ha! Loser.

The game shouldn’t last as long as it does, but somehow it keeps going for hours. Pidge suspects Shiro has several dozen tokens up his sleeve and is cheating. Allura may also be using alchemy to make more tokens appear. Either way, Pidge and Lance’s hordes are steadily increasing, and the menorah has long since been blown out, and the food has settled in everyone’s stomach, and Pidge’s head keeps drooping.

“Think it’s just you and me, Pidge-Podge,” Lance says softly. Someone tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s not sure who. Her eyes might be closed. “What say you we call it a tie, huh?”

“There’s no tie in dreidel,” she argues. “We gotta finish.”

“I’m thinking we play again tomorrow,” Coran suggests. “I’m sure when you’re fully awake you can destroy Number Four much more efficiently.”

“Hey,” says Number Four in question, indignantly.

Pidge manages a smile. Keith sticks his tongue out back at her, and the next thing she knows there are arms around her waist and she’s airborne. She buries her face in a strong shoulder and pretends, secretly, it’s her father, even though she knows it’s not.

“Say goodnight, dork,” whispers Shiro. He pauses, adjusting slightly. “Oof.”

“You’re getting old,” says Keith gleefully.

“Respect your elders,” hisses Lance, accompanied by a swift punch to Keith’s shoulder.

“Ow!” Keith complains, but interestingly he only pouts at Lance instead of maiming him. “It’s Shiro! He’s not even an elder, he’s six! You —”

“Goodnight, Pidge,” say Hunk and Allura, loudly.

Pidge smiles. Her voice is half-buried in Shiro’s shirt. “Night.”

She doesn’t remember the walk to her room, but she feels it when she’s laid down, when blankets are fluffed over her and a kiss is pressed to her forehead.

“Sleep well, Katie,” whispers a voice, and the cool metal of the fingers brushing her hair are soothing. “Love you, kiddo. Happy Hanukkah.”

She falls asleep the the click of her door closing and a warmth burning hot in her heart.

[thecynthh]

smart ass - M.S

synopsis - matt’s not doing to well with his schooling but is determined to get his degree and pass his classes. one essay which is a huge part of their grade haunts him with a bad mark, luckily y/n is willing to him him

notes - college setting, no smut yet, more of matt in the next part, hopefully a long series !

author notes - heyyyyy so this is my first series i guess, i hope you guys like this and i promise not to take too long with the next part. love all u babes and j hope u have a nice new years if you celebrate it!

——————————————————————————

——————————————————————————

a notification appears on my laptop, new grade from Ms.Garcia. shrugs and groans rung throughout the lecture hall, clicking on the notification a website pops up onto my desktop.

*97%,A+ good job y/n keep up the good work*

what were people so upset about, i thought to myself. my shoulder gets tapped by the person beside me.

“oh my god this old woman just hates me,” madi cries from beside me. i peak over at madi’s screen seeing a whopping 54%. i dont understand how that happens to a girl like madi, she was so smart and didn’t deserve that grade. i knew she didnt deserve that, i read her essay myself !

my hand lands on hers, “ okay that’s actually insane for you to be getting a 54, your essay was so good?!?”

everyone's head shoots up to the women below the many rows of seats, “so as you see at your grades only ms y/n got a good grade. i'm willing to let everyone else rewrite their exam and hand it in by next week if you do not like your grade.” the decrepit woman just packs her bag after saying that and begins to leave the room. everyone replicated her and began to pack up their belongings, including me.

madi and i leave the large space and stand in the hall just outside. “oh fuck, i promised nick id meet him after our class, ill see you later babes.” she ghosts a kiss on my cheek as i do the same to her greeting her goodbye. i grab my phone to check the time but to mostly look busy before i head somewhere else.

large footsteps creep up behind me and i hear my name being called. “y/n? thats your name right?” a man around 5’8 is standing in front of me. a little startled i take a second to reply.

“uhm yes that's me” i say replying to him. i notice his outfit, simple black cargos with a baggy sweater over it saying RANSOM with angel wings projecting off of the word.

“s-so i was wondering if you were willing to help me with the essay, you know, maybe study the material more?” he says while slightly looking down and looking very nervous.

“oh yea! of course i’ll bring over my notes and materials that i got from Ms.Garcia. does friday work for you? i have work tomorrow so i’ll be busy after class…” i cringe at my own sentence.

i knew who matt was, he was quite the popular guy and a social media influencer who made a lot of money. he didn’t have to exactly work a normal job like i did. although i don’t blame him, i’ve watched some of their videos and if i’m being honest they are pretty funny. i’ve slowly started to keep up with them ever since i was introduced to them by madi at an influencer party where she and the triplets got invited.

“mhm friday works, you can swing by my house, my brothers won’t be home that night. thanks for this by the way.” he says with his face softening, he definitely seemed more relaxed after i said yes.

“okay then! it’s a date- oh well not really a date, but i mean date as in like… oh you get it.” i trip over my words and finally take in his features. he has a beautiful jawline and scruffy that would feel so good on my-

he chuckles at my mishap “yeah it’s a date just lemme give you my number i’ll text you the address soon.” i present my phone to him as he begins to type out his phone number into his phone, naming his self matt s with a panda emoji next to it.

he’s still typing a little after he names himself, thinking nothing of it i just let him place my phone back into my hand at him as i wave to him bidding him goodbye.

i let my shoulders relax after i see him turn a corner and is out of my line of sight. god why am i so bad at talking to guys, that was straight embarrassing, i thought to myself.

——————

thursday afternoon

madi and i met for coffee after our classes were finished, we caught up ate some small pastries and drank coffee, the usual. but once i told her about what happened yesterday….

“YOU WHAT??” madi says, nearly snorting out her coffee from her nose.

“i agreed to help tutor matt so he can pass this class” i repeat to her seeing zero problem with this.

“so you wanna tutor him, at his house, without his brothers home, at night.” madi tells me in a “matter of fact” tone

“well if you say it like that it sounds like i’m dancing with the devil over here.” i say sarcastically still not seeing the problem.

“you. matt. alone. even after what happened at the party?” madi retorts bringing up the party again.

“okay i still have no fucking clue what you mean by matt was eyefucking me at that party, i was enjoying myself and he was more or less just observing everyone at the party.” god just hearing myself make me realize what is happening.

“you know, just good luck and please don’t be so naive, i don’t want you to get hurt.” madi says in such a sincere tone.

“i’m glad you are at least okay with the whole idea of it, but i gotta go, i have a shift in an hour.” i tell her collecting my things, she stands up and ghosts a kiss on my cheak.

“kk love ya girl, i’ll see you tomorrow.” madi says waving me off before i become late for my shift.

let’s just hope she has at least a little bit of faith in me.

authors note - YAYAYAYAYAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS !!!

[autisticlenaluthor]

Music

'When all you wanted was to be wanted, wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now'

-

Kara arrives fifteen minutes early. 

She gets dropped off in front of the school by Eliza, and promises her she’ll be okay on her own. Once she’s alone, she crosses the quad by herself.

Earbud strings dangle across Kara’s body as she walks, head down, focused on the leaves and how they crunch beneath her boots. Taylor Swift’s Fearless echos through the tiny speakers and Kara can’t help but drum her fingers against her thigh to the beat.

The air is salty and damp with the smell of fallen leaves. It feels almost like she’s stepped into a painting, with the castle-like brick building in the foreground. It’s surrounded by trimmed hedges and trees with orange branches. Alex has always said private school kids are a different breed. But god, is their world fascinating. 

She finds the meeting spot with relative ease. It’s a round concrete picnic table just off the main path, near the massive lion statue Lena described in her email. Kara sits and plops her backpack beside her, quieting the music on her iPod so she can focus as she takes out her pens and spiral notebook. 

It’s supposed to be a simple project.

Sophomores from Metropolis Tech work with sophomores from the all-girls private school, Spence to clean up parks in the city. The whole thing is worth five extra credit points on her Earth Science final. Five extra credit points Kara desperately needs- because what kind of cruel joke is it to put an alien in Earth Science when they’ve only been on the planet for a year? 

She gets her stuff organized and looks up, freezing when she sees the girl she’s been paired up with standing across the table. For someone with super hearing– spatial awareness does not seem to be a skill Kara possesses. 

“You’re– are you Lena?” She stammers. 

The girl nods. She has raven hair and pale skin like the vampires in the movies Alex forces her to watch. For a second, Kara selfishly wonders if she might be an alien too. She just looks so unlike the other people Kara knows. But Eliza says it’s rude to make assumptions, so Kara quickly tries to suppress those thoughts. Lena would likely perceive being asked about her home planet as a targeted insult. 

“I’m Kara, it’s nice to meet you,” Kara says after a moment. “I like your outfit– you look so professional!”

Lenas brow furrows as she looks down at herself. She’s wearing a grey sweater vest with a blue crest over a white button-down and blue plaid skirt. 

“It’s a uniform,” she says. “We all wear this.” 

“Oh.” 

Kara scans the campus- for the first time noticing all the girls in identical get-ups, all paired with knee-socks and Mary Jane shoes. A few of them wear dresses instead of skirts, one or two with school-branded sweatpants beneath them. Where had they all been five minutes ago, before she’d made a complete fool of herself? 

“So… I was thinking we could go to Glacier Park,” Lena says, breaking the silence. “Most girls go to Central because it’s bigger. But Central is a tourist trap– Glacier Park hardly gets the same environmental attention.” 

She’s quiet, keeping her eyes fixated on her hands as she speaks. But even so, she seems so sure of herself. 

Maybe it’s a private school thing, Kara thinks. The students here are so smart, they don’t need to follow the social rules everyone else seems to abide by. 

“Unless you were thinking something different?” 

“Uh… I guess I hadn’t really thought about it,” Kara admits with a nervous laugh. “My classes and everything have been kinda crazy.” 

Lena nods but doesn’t respond. Kara can’t tell if she’s judging her or if she just doesn’t have anything to say. 

“You know… midterms week. Can you believe they do this every year?” 

She isn’t sure why she keeps talking. In the emails they’ve sent, Lena only ever mentions the project. She doesn’t seem to be the chatty type– the type to care that Kara’s had four exams this week alone and that that’s why she can’t bring herself to be as invested in this whole thing as she should be.

It’s just that Lena is right there and maybe the reason she reminds Kara of aliens is that she may just be the prettiest girl she’s ever met– on Krypton or on Earth. And sure she isn’t talkative but that doesn’t mean Kara can help it either. 

“Yeah,” Lena says, expression blank. 

For a second, Kara freezes. She isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do with that. 

“We um, we should start on the report too,” Lena restarts, as if nothing happened at all. “I brought some articles on pollution levels in the city. I thought it might be easier to get the reading portion out of the way today, so we can focus on the actual cleanup later.”  

“Oh… okay, yeah, that sounds good.” 

\\\\\

They go with Lena’s suggestion and meet at the entrance of Glacier Park.  

Kara gives it her best attempt to look nice for her. Alex says it’s silly– they’re going to be cleaning up garbage all day, so why does she need to look good? But Kara can’t help it.

Lena is clean and elegant and weirdly perfect. And for whatever reason, she seems to know so much more than Kara does. There’s a gap between them and even though they’re strangers, even though they don’t have to be friends (Kara isn’t even sure if she wants to be friends) Kara hates it. She hates how isolating it feels. 

So she does her hair in two braids, and puts on her favorite jeans with the black long-sleeved v-neck that reminds her of Rory Gilmore. It isn’t much but it feels good– feels like she’ll surpass whatever expectation Lena has of her. 

When Kara finds the entrance, Lena is already there waiting for her. She’s standing under the big iron archway, carrying her backpack and the trash grabbers she’s borrowed from the school. 

Kara smiles and waves over at her. 

“Hey!” 

Lena gives a slight smile in return and nods in acknowledgment. 

“You look nice,” she says. She hands a trash pick to Kara who mentally pumps her fist and kicks a leg with excitement. 

“Thank you.” Kara smiles. “So do you.” 

Everything after that feels easy.

They pick up trash in relative silence. Lena stays in the grassy section while Kara cleans the pathway. It’s quiet and simple until it isn’t. 

“Lena Luthor?”

Lena lifts her head and Kara drops the trash bag she’s been holding. Standing a few feet away are two girls around their age. One wears a Spence School Phys ED t-shirt. Lena must know them, Kara figures. 

“How nice of you to help your brother with his community service,” says the one not wearing the Spence shirt. She has a high ponytail and blue Converse sneakers. She reminds Kara of the girls in Bring it On.

“But I don’t think it’s gonna make a real difference, didn’t he get like… what, twenty-five years?” she adds. Her friend– Spence shirt, laughs. 

A crinkle forms between Kara’s eyes and she waits for Lena to react. She’s seen fights like this go down at her own school– groups of bullies ganging up on lower-classmen in the girl’s bathroom or staircase. They always seem to have the upper hand until they push too far. 

But Lena doesn’t do anything. Her face doesn’t change. She just looks straight past them, the same way she does when she speaks to Kara, and says nothing. 

“Hey, be careful with her,” Spence shirt jokes. “She might snap like he did.”

Lena looks down. Her face is red. She grips her trash pick so tight her palms grow sweaty and knuckles turn white, but still, she’s silent. 

So Kara says something. 

She can’t help it– she knows she shouldn’t. But the words slip out, and before she knows it, she’s asking-

“What are you talking about?”

Converse sneakers looks at her like she’s crazy. 

“Lex Luthor,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Ya know– that psycho who’s obsessed with Superman and killed all those people?” 

Kara nods.

“That’s her brother.” 

Kara swallows. 

It feels like being punched in the gut– knocks the wind right out of her. 

And suddenly, she’s back in the living room, watching the TV with the volume off at three in the morning because she couldn’t miss the live reports on her cousin’s condition. Because she needed to know if he was dead or alive. Because she couldn’t cope with losing one more person, and if he died, that meant she had to go to. 

She’s in her closet the night after the attack after hearing a crash in the backyard. It’s raining out. Pouring, thunderous flurries. Eliza said the noise was just branches hitting the window in the storm. But Kara couldn’t believe her. She couldn’t get his face out of her head, trailing the worry that now, he was after her too. 

By the time she finds herself back in reality, the girls are gone and Lena is still looking at her shoes. 

“You can go home,” she says through a forced, wavering smile. “I’ll finish cleaning and write the report. You’ll still get the extra credit.”

This time, it’s Kara’s turn to go quiet. 

This stranger, this girl who she found so pretty and alluring, who she dressed up for, who she emailed with for weeks, is the sister of the very person who wants all of her kind dead. Maybe they don’t have a friendship, but to be acquaintances is still too much. To know her at all is to feel every ounce of hurt and damage her family has inflicted. 

Kara isn’t aware of how tight her jaw has been clenched until she starts to taste blood spouting from the sides of her cheeks. 

She isn't going to put up with this. She isn't going to be around her.

So she does as Lena says-- drops her trash bag, and walks away.

[steddiewithachance]

Will You Still Need Me?

Summary: Steve Harrington is avoiding telling his professional-musician-boyfriend, Eddie, that he's going deaf because he's worried about what will happen when he does.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Or Read on AO3

May 12, 1992: Today

Jeff:

Jeff sighs tiredly when he hears a quiet knock on his door. He sets his book down and pulls himself off the couch causing the new leather to crease and croak under his weight. He grabs his wallet off of the kitchen counter, thumbs it open, and picks out a few dollars on the way to the door. He's expecting it to be the pizza he ordered twenty minutes ago which is why he's stunned into silence when he clumsily swings it open to find Steve hunched over with red eyes and messy hair. 

Steve’s obviously been crying, which scares Jeff like a punch to the gut because, in all the years of knowing each other and touring together, Jeff can't remember ever seeing Steve cry. He feels frozen. Steve looks down at the cash in Jeff’s hand and gives a watery smile.

"That for me, boss?" Steve asks, reaching for the money playfully. Jeff pulls it back instinctively before realizing that he made a joke, and gives a sort of delayed scoff. 

"Sorry man, I thought you were the pizza guy." Jeff steps back, pockets the cash, and opens the door invitingly. Steve nods and steps inside. He toes off his shoes and points to the living room.

"The place looks awesome fully decorated, dude." Steve's padding the impending serious conversation with small talk about Jeff’s new apartment. It's like he's trying to put Jeff at ease when really it should be the other way around. Steve's always been selfless like that.

"Oh, yeah thanks, I think so too. And thanks for helping me move all my stuff last week, couldn't have done it without you. Roadie of the year." Jeff watches as Steve's face falls at that. Oops, what'd he say wrong? This is why no one should trust him to comfort people, he always messes up. 

Jeff takes a seat on the couch and pats the spot next to him. He's working through theories in his head as to why Steve's been crying and why he's shown up here. The first theory is that Steve and Eddie broke up. This would be pretty unexpected because Jeff knows about the promise ring that Eddie is hiding back at their place. He knows that, at least in Eddie's eyes, their relationship was on the trajectory to last.

Steve takes a seat on the opposite end of the cherry leather couch and runs a hand through his hair, it's an anxious tick that Steve does a lot, and it explains the messy look he's sporting today.

The second theory is that Eddie just said something stupid and it hurt enough for Steve to seek reassurance from someone who has known Eddie for twelve years. This is the more likely theory, and it's gonna end in a disappointed phone call from Jeff to Eddie once Steve leaves. All of the Corroded guys are very much aware and slightly envious of what a good boyfriend Eddie has. 

Steve is caring on a bad day and downright devoted on a good one. He has stood by Eddie's side through thick and thin with steadfast loyalty and understanding. And nobody lets Eddie forget it, not that Eddie takes it for granted, but Steve has spent years bending over backward to support Eddie's dreams and acclimating to the touring musician's lifestyle. It's really sweet.

"I'm sorry I came over unannounced. I know it’s shitty of me. You coulda had someone over." Steve sniffles and wipes his face with the sleeve of his oversized sweater. Jeff hasn't really been on a date since he broke up with his last girlfriend, who didn't want to do long distance when the band moved. 

"No, it's totally fine. You're free to stay and have pizza with me." Jeff offers, sinking back into the couch, trying to project a calm energy to Steve who is fidgeting and scanning Jeff's face carefully.

"I-" Steve starts before he presses his lips together tightly and tilts his head toward the ceiling, barely holding back tears. Jeff hates when his friends are sad, he feels kind of like a kid seeing a parent cry for the first time. You don't really know how to help and it's deeply unsettling.

"Hey, what's wrong? What happened?" Jeff whispers softly. He places a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder which startles Steve. His eyes shoot open and he focuses in on Jeff's mouth. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Jeff apologizes, embarrassed. 

"No, you're fine. I just... I went to the doctor today," Steve begins. 

A siren goes off in Jeff’s head. This may be a much more serious conversation than Jeff feels equipped to handle. 

"And I know everyone has been getting annoyed at me for asking them to repeat themselves all the time." Steve's fist hammers against his thigh. Jeff's not sure if it's Steve is punishing himself or if he's trying to hold back from crying. Should he reach out to interfere?

"And I expected them to tell me that I have a little hearing loss, no big deal, but they said-" Steve chokes out a sob and a tear falls down his cheek quickly, like a little shooting star. "They came to the conclusion that I have severe and progressive hearing loss. And they said there's a good chance I'll lose my hearing altogether." Steve's voice pitches up at the end, and Jeff's heart drops.

Steve is full-on crying, shoulders bouncing, hands covering his face, and Jeff instinctually wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. He knows that if Steve's best friend, Robin, didn't live across the country Steve would probably go to her about all this. But since Corroded Coffin relocated out west, Steve's support system right now is pretty limited to the members of the band. 

Jeff tucks Steve under his chin and rubs circles into his back while he shakes. He's trying his darndest to be what Steve needs right now. A small asshole-ish part of him is smug that Steve came to him and not Gareth or Grant.

Jeff holds him for a few minutes, telling Steve it's okay when his breathing stutters. After a little, Steve pulls back and wipes his eyes with his tear-soaked sleeves. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to c-cry so much. This is embarrassing." Steve hiccups. 

Jeff shakes his head earnestly. "No need to be embarrassed, Steve, let me get you a tissue."

Jeff springs up and slides into his room to get the box of tissues. 

When he returns, Steve is trying to compose himself. He hands the box to Steve who takes it gratefully. And right before he sits down again, the doorbell rings. 

Goddamn it.

Steve turns around to look at the door and then up at Jeff to inquire as to whether or not Jeff is going to open it. He leans down and takes Steve's hand.

"I am so sorry, Steve, let me send them away so you can continue." He apologizes, horribly annoyed at the interruption. He shoves the cash into the pizza delivery girl's hands before closing the door in her face and tossing the warm box on the coffee table.

He rejoins Steve on the couch and looks at him with the most comforting expression he possibly can. 

"Anyways, the reason this has me so fucked up is because it's obviously gonna affect Eddie. Like I'm not supposed to attend any loud concerts anymore." Steve immediately crumbles again and brings his knees up to his chest. "Just my fucking luck too because of course the one thing I can't do is attend my boyfriend's concerts. I don't know what's worse, not being allowed to go to his shows anymore or knowing I won't be able to hear any of his music in a few years." 

Fuck, this is tough. Jeff rubs Steve's knee supportively and then grabs the blanket hanging on the back of the couch and wraps it around Steve's shoulders.

"Eddie's not gonna want me anymore." Steve finally whispers, admitting the root of his worry, the heartbeat of his pain, and the thesis of why he's here. It's a foolish worry, Eddie's obsessed with him. 

"Steve, that's not true. You know it's not true. Eddie loves you so much." Jeff argues.

Steve shakes his head and curls further into a ball, gasping and shaking with the fear that Eddie might not want him after this. Jeff bites his fingernails. How does he tell Steve that Eddie has a pseudo-engagement ring hidden in one of his boots tucked deep in their closet and is fully prepared to emotionally commit to their relationship without actually telling him any of that?

"I mean what kind of musician would want a boyfriend who can't even hear him play? He asks for my opinion on his songs all the time." 

"Steve," Jeff squeezes his shoulder and waits for Steve to look up so that he can continue. "You are so much more to Eddie than just a pair of ears. He will not leave you over this, there's no way." But Steve looks unconvinced. 

"Did he ever tell you about the swim meets?" Jeff asks with a mischievous grin. This was one of the stories that Eddie had sworn Jeff to secrecy about when he started dating Steve. Steve furrows his brow and shakes his head. 

Before he starts telling this frankly forbidden story, Jeff flips open the pizza box and inches it toward Steve in case he's hungry. Steve hesitantly takes a slice.

"Well in high school, Eddie would drag us to these swim meets, Grant and I. And at first, we had no goddamn clue why. It was hot, overcrowded with jocks, and so unlike anything Eddie had ever expressed interest in before. But then you walked out in a swimsuit and it all made sense. He saw you and blushed so hard dude... He made us go to every single meet of the season. He even got the crazy idea of trying out for swim team just so he could be bossed around by swim captain, Steeeeve Harrington." Jeff regales, and Steve sends him a wide-eyed disbelieving look. Jeff nods emphatically. 

"And then in the summer, he dragged me out to the community pool every other day hoping you'd show up. You, of course, had your own pool that we didn't know about.” Jeff smiles at the memory. He misses the simplicity of high school sometimes. “The idea of wearing a swim cap eventually scared him off, but he was so absolutely delusional that summer, thinking he'd enjoy being on the swim team or even make it on in the first place. Wayne surely got a kick out of the idea."

Steve is looking up at him, hiding a smile behind his slice of pizza. The amusement is contagious. Jeff starts laughing at the memory, glad he gets to share all of Eddie's embarrassing "Steve moments" with the man himself now.

"All this to say, Steve, Eddie went out of his way to be around you before you probably even knew his name. Eddie thinks the world of you, he won the boyfriend lottery and he knows it. You have nothing to worry about." Jeff assures him and feels like he did a good job when Steve blushes at the compliment. But maybe Steve's anxiety about being a burden extends beyond just Eddie.

"I know the guys would all be willing to learn sign language if you needed us to." Jeff continues, "Plus they make these really big ear coverings that you can wear at concerts to block out loud sounds. We can ask your doctor if you could still watch so long as you're wearing those." 

Steve puts down his half-eaten slice of pizza on top of the box and gently envelops Jeff in a kind hug. Jeff smiles into his hair.

"Thank you," Steve mumbles into his shoulder. Jeff pats his back good-naturedly. 

"Eddie's gonna kill me for telling you the swim story. You better start writing me a nice eulogy, Steven" 

Steve huffs at that.

Steve:

Steve unlocks the door to his apartment and slinks inside. He's emotionally exhausted from the day, but he already knows he's gonna have to tell Eddie everything before bed. There's no way he'd be able to sleep without getting things off of his chest. He'd feel guilty and gross about keeping Eddie in the dark.

He feels better after Jeff's, a little at least. But Steve just has a gut feeling that even if Eddie says they're okay, he's still gonna be disappointed. Nobody has the spare time lying around to learn a new language, least of all Eddie, if things come to that. And music is truly such a big part of Eds’ identity and their relationship that he can see his boyfriend pulling away. 

It flashes behind Steve's eyes like a nightmare: Eddie throwing himself into work more and more, spending less time at home, leaving Steve behind when they travel for shows. And it all ends with Steve abandoned and alone in a big empty house again, but quiet in a way he's never known. 

Steve kicks off his shoes at the entryway, habitually, and Eddie slides around the corner with a sweet smile. He scoops Steve into his arms and kisses the crown of his head with an exaggerated ‘muah’.

"Hi baby, I missed you," Eddie says lovingly. Steve wonders what it would be like to forget Eddie's voice. The thought spears through him painfully. 

 Steve stands still in the embrace, arms hovering at his sides. He doesn't want to cry again, he's cried so much today, but his throat is burning with it. His eyes are getting blurry. 

Hold yourself together, goddamn it! 

Eddie steps back and takes Steve’s face in his hands, brushing the first tear when it falls. Eddie looks up anxiously at Steve. 

"This is about the doctor's?" Eddie asks, but it's delivered like a statement and he already knows the answer. Steve stands quietly, watching Eddie look back and forth quickly between his eyes, seeking answers. Steve squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't see whatever face Eddie makes when he nods. Eddie immediately pulls him into a crushing hug, rocking them back and forth. 

He pulls away, which feels like a funeral to Steve, but luckily it's just so Eddie can grab his hand and pull them towards the bedroom. He sits Steve down near the headboard of the bed so he can sit in front of him, legs crossed.

"Talk to me." Eddie requests.

"I’m going deaf, Eddie." Steve expresses with none of the eloquence he had at Jeff's place. 

Eddie folds over at the news, covering his eyes with a hand. He takes a big shaky breath and when he pulls his hands away he's teary too. Steve doesn't know what that means: Eddie crying. His thoughts are racing about how this conversation might conclude. Jeff was confident, but Steve is terrified.

"Did they say what caused it?" Eddie's voice cracks. He pets his hands up and down Steve's thighs. 

"Mix of head trauma and loud music probably," Steve responds dismissively like it's obvious. But for some reason, Eddie breaks, keels over, and starts crying into Steve's lap. Steve rests a hand on Eddie's back, palm to spine, a little bit in shock.

Eddie pulls away so Steve can read his lips; he relies on it these days. "I'm so sorry Steve, this is all my fault." Eddie cries. And then Steve feels doubly terrible because he didn't even consider that Eddie would blame himself for it. "All my fault."

"It's not your fault. It's all those concussions I got as a kid."

Eddie grabs Steve's hands, kisses them, and holds 'em to his heart. "It's partly my fault, the loud music, the random concerts I dragged you to that you didn't even want to go to. I feel fucking terrible about it." 

“I did want to go. You never forced me.” Steve argues and pulls his hands away from Eddie’s hold.

“Not always. I could tell you were just being a good sport about getting dragged to ‘em sometimes.” Eddie pulls the collar of his sweatshirt up to hide his face in it. 

Steve crosses his arms. He wants to cut to the chase.

"So where do we stand?" 

Eddie lowers the sweatshirt to watch him for a moment, trying to decipher what Steve is asking him. 

"What do you mean?" Eddie shakes his head confusedly. Eddie drags a sleeve across his face.

"Do you still want me or not, Munson?" Steve slouches back against the headboard. Eddie lurches forward, eyes wide.

"Do I still want you? What- you think I wouldn't want you anymore?" Eddie sounds equal parts angry and heartbroken. 

"I don't know, you tell me. If I wasn't allowed to go to your shows anymore, if things got so bad that I couldn’t hear your music at all, if you had to learn sign language or whatever just to talk to me, what use would I even be to you?" 

Eddie flops his hands against the bed sheets, frustrated.

"Use?! It's not about being useful or being convenient. If you can't come to my shows anymore, I'd miss you but I wouldn't hold it against you! I know for a fact being with me hasn't been easy or convenient for you, but you never complained about any of the shit you had to deal with." Eddie pauses, "I'm kinda hurt you think I'd abandon you after I feel like this is my fault to begin with." 

"Well, I wouldn't want you to stay with me out of pity!" Steve's voice is embarrassingly shaky. He hates fighting with Eddie but sometimes he doesn't know how to de-escalate, the overwhelming emotions just bubble out of him like magma. 

"I don't want to feel like I'm holding you back. That's- that's what it was like with my parents. All the resentment- it stings." Steve sniffles.

Eddie nods knowingly, realization washing over his face as he seems to take it all in and get what this conversation is about now. Eddie takes a deep breath and starts over. 

"I love you, Steve. So much. I want to spend my whole life with you." Eddie wipes his eyes and rubs the sadness into the bedsheets. "I'm not going anywhere. I'd pay a million dollars for a hearing aid if you needed it. I'd take ASL classes with you for years, I'd even fucking quit the band if that's what was best for us." Eddie reaches out and squeezes Steve's thigh. "It's not about pity or obligation. You're my person, okay? Whatever you need from me I'll give you. Easy." 

Before Eddie's even finished talking, Steve is sobbing again. He shifts and crawls into Eddie's lap who happily pulls him in and cradles him soundly. 

"Okay?" Eddie asks and Steve nods. 

They stay like that for a good long while. And now Steve feels gross for doubting Eddie, to begin with, but he needed to hear that they were okay from Eddie himself. 

"Jeff told me you'd say that. I'm stupid," Steve breathes into Eddie's neck. 

"When did you talk to Jeff?" 

"Just came from there. I was scared about what you'd say." Steve pulls back to make sure Eddie's not mad. "He said you wouldn't break up with me."

Eddie's brows crease and he bites the inside of his cheek. 

"You never have to be scared of me, Steve." Eddie runs a hand through Steve's hair softly working out tangles. "I'm glad he was there to help, though. He was right."

"'M sorry for doubting you, Teddy. But if you change your mind I'd get it."

"I'm not changing my mind Steve, never changing my mind. Want you forever and ever." Eddie sighs into Steve's sweater. Eddie has said it before, the forever thing, but it was before Steve had this big medical issue looming over him so inevitably. A part of him settles, knowing Eddie's flexible about the future. 

And well... Steve can't not bring it up. "He also told me you perved on me at all my swim meets, freak." Steve smiles when he feels the man under him go rigid and gasp dramatically. 

"No, he did not!" Eddie blanches. Steve fiddles with the necklace clasp resting at the top of Eddie's spine and nuzzles his cheek against Eddie's temple. 

"I could give you some private swim lessons if you're still hellbent on making swim team." Steve teases.

"You're such a little shit. And Jeff is dead to me. I'm finding a new rhythm guitarist. Is nothing sacred? Traitor!" 

"He knew you'd say that too."

[sidekick-hero]

What a month! 29 days (thank you leap year), 29 fics, 51k words. I had so much fun doing @steddielovemonth and challenge myself to write something every single day.

You can find all my entries under the Read More ⬇️

Carry You (mature | wc: 4k | tags: drug addiction, hurt Eddie Munson, post break-up, hopeful ending | prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you | AO3)

My arms belong around you (mature | wc: 509 | cw: mild smut | prompt: Love is bodies touching, whether it’s soft cuddles or sliding together towards orgasm by | AO3)

Rooting for you (explicit | wc: 2.6k | tags: open ending, mention of Eddie/OMC, short Steve/OFC scene, frat boy steve, modern au, fuckbuddies, not really unrequited love | prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking the leap | AO3)

Slaying Dragons (general | wc: 2.1k | cw: none | tags: childhood friends, Eddie lives, fluff and tiny bit of angst | AO3)

Like real people do (general | wc: 846 | cw: none | tags: established relationship, soft boys being soft | prompt: Love is being seen and known | AO3)

Hate to be lame (mature | wc: 1.1k | tags: spy au, spy boyfriends, established relationship | prompt: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing by | AO3)

We can be heroes (general | wc: 1.2k | tags: feelings realization, Kas!Eddie (flashback), smoking weed together, boys in love | prompt: Love is what makes you brave | AO3)

true colors (explicit | wc: 2.1k | tags: getting together, fluff, love confessions, Steve takes care of Eddie | Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him | AO3)

He was sweet like honey (explicit | wc: 2.7k | tags: friends with benefits, they are in love your honor they are just bad with words, food sex (ice cream), slight dom/sub undertones (dom Steve/sub Eddie), blowjobs | prompt: Love is sharing food | AO3)

Safe Haven (teen | wc: 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | prompt: Love is feeling safe | AO3)

Eat you alive (mature | wc: 1.8k | tags: werewolf!Steve, human!Eddie, domesticity, soft boys being soft, bathing together | prompt: Love is saving the last bite for them | Part 2 to Safe Haven | AO3)

are you still mine? (teen | wc: 2.4k | tags: future fic, steddie in their 40s, second chances, mutual pining, happy ending | prompt: Love is the hope for a future together | AO3)

the past, the future, through death my arms are open (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: mutual pining, Eddie/OMC (nothing explicit), memory of the past | second part to are you still mine? where Steve remembers another moment from their shared past | prompts: Love is keeping a spare sweater/blanket in the car because they always get cold and Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask | AO3)

sink you teeth (explicit | wc: 563 words | tags: vampire!eddie, blood drinking, smut, established relationship, part 2 of Love from the other side | prompt: Love is being late to work because you can’t ever say goodbye in a reasonable amount of time | AO3 )

Butterfly Effect (mature | wc: 1.5k | tags: friends with benefits, Eddie Munson is bad at feelings, but Steve makes him talk about them anyway, at least in metaphors, emotional hurt/comfort | prompt: Love is letting yourself be loved | AO3)

when we were made it was no accident (teen | wc: 1.2k | tags: rockstar!eddie, drummer!steve, secret relationship, part of @thefreakandthehair and @firefly-party and mine project pickup note | prompt: love is staying in bed for five extra minutes because you can’t tear yourself away from them just yet | art by Kei | story in the same verse by Lex | AO3)

Dear Steve (teen | wc: 2.3k | tags: rockstar!eddie, addiction, rehab, journaling, only Eddie’s entries turn into letters to Steve | Part 2 to Carry You | prompt: Love is about a hand reaching out to you so you don’t get lost | AO3)

that ultra-kind of love (you never walk away from) (teen | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, first time, virgin!eddie, just soft boys being soft, not the actual smut I am sorry | prompt: Love is terrifying | AO3)

Let Go ( explicit | wc: 509 | tags: established relationship, fluff and smut, soft boys being soft | prompt: Love is helping them unwind after a rough day | AO3)

Someone New (teen | wc: 1.7k | tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, soft boys, Steve takes care of Eddie, Vecna aftermath | prompt: Love is a warm hug | AO3)

You got a fast car (teen | wc: 1.4k | cw: blood, the aftermath of a beating | tags: hurt!eddie and protective!steve, running away | prompt: Love is letting him pick the music | AO3)

only soul I ever saved (explicit | wc: 1.1k | tags: established relationship, sub!eddie, top!eddie, dom!steve, bottom!steve, porn with feelings, Good Boy Eddie | prompt: Love is liking the version of yourself you are with them the best| AO3)

something about us (teen | wc: 1.4k | tags: college au, meet-cute thank to a fire alarm | prompt: Love is giving him your sweater even if it makes you cold | AO3)

take you with me (mature | wc: 2.1k | tags: outlaw!eddie, future fic, starcrossed lovers finding each other, happy ending, the happy ending to he’s all that I’ve got (don’t take that sinner from me) we deserve | prompt: Love is the only thing we can take with us | AO3)

safe & sound (teen | wc: 2.5k | tags: different first meeting, emotional hurt/comfort | summary: What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives? | prompt: Love is asking, “do you want a blanket?" | AO3)

will you find me in the stars (mature | wc: 2.1k | cw: major character death (temporary, as in reincarnation) | tags: soulmates, starcrossed lovers, reincarnation | summary: In every life, in every universe, they will find each other again. What’s a lifetime if you measure it in eternity? | prompt: Love is a fire that never goes out | AO3)

Crutch (mature | wc: 2k | tags: established relationship, post-s4, Valentine’s Day, Robin is the best, fluff | summary: Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can’t say it. | prompt: Love is just a four-letter word | AO3)

will you take me home (teen | wc: 2.7k | tags: animal shelter workers Eddie and Chrissy, platonic stobin, background buckingham, Idiots to lovers | prompt: Love is when you look at his lips for half the conversation because you can’t stop thinking about kissing him | AO3)

Anything for love (teen | wc: 790 | tags: established relationship, former jock Steve, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, in fact he’s so in love he would do anything for love | prompt: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy | AO3)

[moonlightazriel]

Monster /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel always saw himself as a monster, but his new found mate was there to show him that he was wrong.

Warnings: None, maybe a little bit of angsty.

Word Count: 2,8K

Notes: Adventure time is one of my favorite cartoons, and this is one of the best songs Marceline ever sang in the show, i knew from the moment i decided to do this project that this song fitted Azriel and i wanted to write it.

Song week

Main Masterlist

I know we'll never grow old together 'Cause you'll never grow old to me You're the pink in my cheeks And I'm scared 'cause that means I'm a little bit soft

Azriel looked at the female in front of him, her big eyes looking at him so intensely that he shifted from a feet to another, uncomfortable as she kept quiet, the anxiety building up in his chest, he tried to hold back, keep it for himself, tried not let her feel in their newly found bond. The golden thread, tethering them together for the rest of their lives, glowed brighter as she explored it, he could feel the pull in his chest, pulling him straight to her arms.

He was afraid, his mind racing, he stood still, unaware that her eyes sparkled even brighter than the connection between them, just like him, Y/N have dreamed of this moment, longing for the feeling her friends and sisters have described, she grew up seeing what the mating bond was capable to do, how happy her parents were, how they loved each other like there was no one else in the world for them, like they were each others whole universe.

She never lost her hope of finding her other half, her equal in every way, even as she grew older and her past experiences with love weren’t that good, she imagined how they would met, how he or she looked like, what their children would look like, if they were going to be happy to have her as a mate. She knew that there was something special about Azriel the second he stepped on Feyre’s gallery, she have been friends with Polina and Ressina for a really long time, the passion for art brought them together, but with Polina’s passing during the attack on the city, things never have been the same.

When Feyre offered the two a place in the gallery, Y/N and Ressina were more than welcoming to her idea, Feyre would never replace Polina but her friendship was something Y/N cherished with all of her heart, the High Lady was kind, attentive with everyone and really talented so she fit just right with the two other artists. Sina and Fey were in the back when Azriel visited the studio for the first time, Y/N was sitting in front of her canvas, painting the night sky, her hands and face were covered in shades of dark blue, purple and black, she was so distracted that she didn’t noticed the shadowsinger entering, his eyes looking everywhere, both admiring the space and looking for his High Lady.

He caught the soft sound of the brush, his eyes falling on the pretty female sitting behind a huge canvas, he walked a little to the side, now he could see her fully, she was wearing a stained apron, underneath, black pants and a huge sweater covered her body, her hair was up in a bun with a few loose strand falling on her face, she moved her dirty hand, removing the hair from her eyes, staining her face with a purple line in the process, he then noticed the points of color she had on her face, probably from doing the same thing a few times. She was the prettiest female he had ever laid his eyes on, and suddenly he recognized her.

His eyes widened a little, she was the female he had saw in this same street, rushing people inside the stores, running with a kid in her arms, making sure she saved as many people she could save. He cleared his throat, trying not to startle her, she lift her eyes to him, drinking in the sight of the Spymaster from the night court, of course she knew who he was, but she never had saw him so close to her, she noticed his hazel eyes and how they carried a tint of gold when he looked at her, his fluffy black hair underneath a beanie, the snowflakes covering his heavy coat and his boots.

“Hi, you must be Azriel.” Her voice was soft, calming, a weird feeling of peace washed over him and all he wanted to do was hear her talking again. She got up, walking towards him, extending her hand. “I’m Y/N.” He looked at her hand, covered in paint, she looked at it too, ready to pull her hand back when Azriel gloved hand held hers, shaking it.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N, have you seen Feyre?” His voice sent shivers down her spine, even with a glove on she could feel a spark of electricity as they held hands, it was briefly but she couldn’t help thinking if he felt the same, she looked for any indication in his face but found nothing.

“She’s in the back, you will find her that way.” She said, retrieving her hand quickly, he thanked her and walked towards the direction she indicated, leaving her alone with a tingly in her hand, the one she was holding close to her heart.

But don't beat yourself up Bonnie It wasn't just the Sun that I was hiding from We were messed up kids who taught ourselves how to live And I'm still scared that I'm not good enough

He kept finding reasons to go the studio, no one understood at first why he wanted to go there so bad until Feyre invited the inner circle over, the three artists were waiting for them with pastries and tea, Fey was so excited for her family to meet her new friends, she was a really happier version of herself around Y/N and Sina. It took one look at the shadowsinger when Y/N approached him for them to know that she was the reason behind the changing in his behavior. All of them noticed Azriel tensed shoulders at her presence and how his eyes followed her everywhere she went, they also noticed how she smiled brighter to him than she did to the others, of course she was really nice to them but with Azriel was just something else.

He couldn’t help how his heart would hammer against his chest whenever she smiled at him, he couldn’t even count how many times he had to hold himself from cupping her face between his hands and kiss her, he wanted so badly but he knew he was undeserving, he didn’t dare touch her and ruin her pureness and innocence, she was an angel, he wasn’t good enough for her and would never be no matter how bad he tried.

She was light, while he was darkness, he knew she was just being nice to him, so he stopped visiting for a while, he wanted to protect his heart, he had suffered enough in his life, he didn’t need any more suffering, but he felt empty, alone, like something was missing from his chest, like he didn’t have a heart anymore, his heart now belonged to her, he felt like a hollow shell when she wasn’t around, he was firm in his decision even if this meant that he would end up miserable, he didn’t care, he just needed to stay away until this feeling vanished and he could go back to his normal self.

But it wasn’t any easier for her either, she noticed his absence and it was like she was being trapped under water, she has known Azriel for only a few months but now she felt like he was her air, and it was impossible to breath with him gone, her friends noticed how she looked after a few weeks, she smiled at them but it wasn’t like before, they saw how every time the door opened she would look up quickly and drop her gaze when she saw that it wasn’t Azriel there. Feyre and Sina were worried for their friend, trying to cheer her up but nothing seemed to work.

“Feyre.” Y/N came to her one day, her voice low as she looked at the blonde. “If you see Azriel, tell him that I miss having tea with him.” Feyre noticed her eyes filled with tears and her heart broke for her friend, it was obvious that Y/N had feeling for him, and he deliberately decided to ignore her? Feyre felt angry with his behavior, but she felt even angrier with the next words that dropped from Y/N’s mouth. “And please, tell him that if I did something wrong, I’m sorry.”

I've always felt like a Monster Long before I was bit But only seen as a monster Let's just say I'm used to it

Ever since he was a little kid, people would treat him like he didn’t deserved any happiness and goodness, and as he grew up, with his job and all the dirty things he did, he knew they were right. He always felt like a monster, but he tried to brush this thought aside, it was impossible to do it though, when one day Feyre came to Rhys’s office, she knew the two of them were in there, she stormed in, her hands on her waist and a disappointed look on her face.

“What’s your problem Azriel?” He looked at her, honestly confused, she never talked to him like this. “You decided to give Y/N all of your attention, treated her good to disappear? She’s been so sad, she’s nothing like she used to be cuz she misses you.” Azriel blinked a couple of times, she missed him. “She came to me today and do you know what she asked me?” He denied, he felt small under his High Lady’s harsh gaze, he resisted the urge to cringe in his seat. “To tell you that if she’s done something wrong, she’s sorry for it. She thinks it’s her fault that you vanished in thin air, so if you have a fucking problem with her, be a grown up man and solve it with her so she can be herself again.”

Feyre left short after, Rhysand gave him an apologetic look, he knew why his brother decided to distance himself from Y/N, he tapped on Azriel’s shoulder before going after his mate. Azriel sunk further into his seat, he felt worse to know he was hurting her than he ever felt torturing someone in the chambers underneath the Hewn City. He knew what he should do, grabbing his coat, he left in a rush, something told him exactly where to find her, he ran until his legs protested and his lungs were claiming for air, his shadows a blurry behind him.

“She’s inside.” Sina told him as he stopped at the front door of the gallery, she didn’t looked harshly at him like Feyre did, instead, she grabbed his hand and looked at him in the eyes. “I’ve heard that the shadowsinger of the night court has a lot of problems expressing his feelings, don’t let her go Azriel, Y/N is unique and deserve to find love, don’t go in there if you’re not sure about your feelings.” Her words hit him deeper and he nodded, he was more than sure and was ready to claim her back. Sina smiled at him shaking her head approvingly. “Then go there and bring our girl back.”

He opened the door slowly, his breath uneven as the thought rushed in his mind,his heart was a drum in his chest, she was cleaning her space, the door closed behind him, the sound soft but she heard anyway.

“You can go home Sina, it’s going to take a while here.” Her head turned to his direction, she looked at him surprised, her heart stopping, he looked as beautiful as ever, his characteristic scent hit her nostril, she sniffed, letting the aroma mess with her head and her heart. “Oh, hello Azriel.” Her tone was heavy with sadness and he felt his heart breaking at the sound, she wasn’t like this and knowing that it was his fault made him feel guilty.

And I grew tough 'cause love had only hurt me back But loving you is a good problem to have

And I'm used to that, but I could get used to this Yeah I'm used to that, but I could get used to this

“I’m sorry I disappeared.” He blurted out, barely holding himself, his feet carrying him towards her, she looked even more surprised and leaned in the desk behind her, crossing her arms in front of her chest while she waited for him to continue. “I was scared.” He sounded small as he confession slip through his lips.

“Of what?” She rose an eyebrow and pressed her lips on a thin line.

“Whatever was happening between us, I’ve been in love with the same female for centuries, until I realized that she was never going to reciprocate what I felt. Every single time I reminded myself that I wasn’t worth loving and that this kind of thing just wasn’t for me, I was afraid of this…” He gesticulated between them he felt weird being so direct about his feelings but Sina’s words ringed on his head, so he kept going. “Because all that love has ever brought me was pain, I was trying to protect myself and I was foolish to think I could hide forever from this feeling, from you. You may feel the same or not but I just wanted you to know, you deserved the truth.” He was panting after he finished and a silent tear fell down her cheek, he was looking anywhere but her when he talked, but when his eyes lifted to meet hers, he felt it.

They both gasped at the same time, the mating bond was something special, unique, but it was even rare when it snapped for both mates at the same time, Azriel felt like he was being punched in the stomach, all the air left his lungs, the line between them was so clear that he extended his hand, trying to touch it.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me.” The look in Y/N’s eyes changed, the joy fading and give space to anger, how dared he say such a thing when she couldn’t be happier that he was the one for her?

“Don’t you dare saying this ever again.” He looked at her, she was being serious, the burning in her gaze so strong that he could feel the heat.

“But you deserve someone good for you!”

“And who would be better than my freaking mate? Azriel you're my equal, my other half, the perfect match for me, can’t you see it?” She asked him in disbelief.

“Just because the Mother said?” He asked, now he was the one who was angry, she would never be like him, she would never be a monster.

“Because I know ever since I first touched you.” She yelled, stepping forward and running to the back of the studio, Azriel felt confused but she got back quickly, holding a big canvas, the anger faded as he looked at the portrait. “Because this is how a see you, no matter what you have done, you’re perfect to me.” He touched the paint, he never considered himself the prettiest of the males, but through her eyes, he was beautiful, he was pure, he was lovable. “I painted this after our first meeting, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. No matter how I tried to think about something else, you were in every thought that crossed my mind, from that day to this.”

And I know we'll never grow old together 'Cause you'll never grow old to me You're the pink in my cheeks And I love that it means I'm a little bit soft

“You may not want this, because you think you don’t deserve a mate, but if you change your mind, I’ll be happy to wait for you.” Azriel blushed, his tough facade breaking as he stepped closer to her, cupping her face with his scarred hands, his lips met hers and he melted away, he kissed her like the world was about to end, they kissed until they needed air, they separated, both gasped for air, her lips were swollen and red.

“I never wanted something more than I want this.” He whispered and she nodded, turning away from him, leaving him confused, standing in the middle of the room, when she got back, Azriel almost collapsed on the ground, his knees felt weak and he could feel his body shaking, she was holding a plate filled with food and walking towards him. “Are you sure?” He asked one more time as she offered him the food.

“I’m sure, more than I’ve ever been in my entire life.” She grabbed a cookie, bringing it to Azriel’s lips, he opened his mouth, taking a bite from the dessert, they felt it at the same time, how the bond seemed alive and the love pouring from them both. “My mate.” She whispered to him.

“My mate.” He whispered back, for once feeling like he was getting everything he deserved in life.

You're the pink in my cheeks And I love that it means I'm a little bit soft

[familyvideostevie]

october fourteenth

day fourteen: remus lupin it’s picture day with your friends | marauders being silly, fluff | 1k

The whole thing is Sirius’s idea. A bit surprising, given that he strikes you as the most nonchalant, the most uncaring of your boyfriend’s friends, but Remus assures you that Sirius has as soft, gooey center behind all the leather and frowning.

Which is how you end up in their apartment living room in matching sweaters in the middle of October. It’s like picture day at school but with alcohol and a self-timed camera on a tripod.

“The holidays aren’t for months,” Lily whines, tugging on the collar of her mustard colored sweater. You’d think it would clash with her hair but she looks as lovely as ever.

“And we’ll be prepared,” says James. “Especially for the Halloween party.” He smoothes down one of her eyebrows.

She leans into him. “For the first time ever,” she mutters.

“I don’t know about this matching,” Remus says. “Why do we look like a catalogue, again?” His hand is absently tracing patterns on your back as you lean into him, waiting to be directed.

“Because I said so,” Sirius grumbles. “Now get on the bloody couch.”

He’s moved their couch to be centered in front of the best light in the flat and set up his camera in front of it on a rickety tripod. Everyone is in various shades of fall tones and dark bottoms. Remus is in a fetching red sweater you picked out for him and you brush imaginary lint from his shoulder just to touch him.

Ever the perceptive one, he smiles at you. “Thank you for doing this,” he says softly. Lily and Sirius jostle for the center cushion behind him.

“Are you kidding?” you say. “This is fun. I’m honored to be on the card this year.”

You mean it. Apparently, as Remus tells it, they did this at school, too, though it was much less serious. They’d get dressed up in stupid themes and take a ‘family photo’ to get printed and sent it out come the holidays and give them away at house parties. This is your first fall as a couple and it was, in Remus’s opinion, a no brainer to have you in it. You were a bit worried that the boys would object but everyone was thrilled.

“We’re lucky to have someone as pretty as you on record as being friends with us,” he says. He fixes the collar of the blouse you’ve got on under your burgundy sweater. “And I’m luckiest of all, since you’re coming home with me.”

Your face feels hot. Remus is quite the tease sometimes. It never gets old.

“Stop being gross and get on the couch,” Sirius says again.

You roll your eyes and grab Remus’s hand. Sirius has won and put himself in the middle with Lily on one side and James perched on the arm next to her. He’s playing with a strand of her hair.

“Where do you want us?” you ask. Sirius waves his hand as if he suddenly doesn’t care. Infuriating man.

“You sit,” you tell Remus, pushing him into the couch.

“You sure?” You nod. He settles next to Sirius and you copy James’s pose on the arm of the couch. Remus puts his arm across your legs, hand resting on your knee, and grins up at you.

Sirius clears his throat. “Okay, five seconds on the timer. Don’t fuck it up. I’ve only got a few frames left.”

He doesn’t take much seriously but this does seem to be his passion project so you do your best to smile nicely. At the last second, Remus squeezes your knee and you look down at him. He’s still smiling up at you softly, his hair perfectly arranged, his eyes bright. You smile back and the flash goes off.

You won’t see it until Sirius gets the film developed but you’re sure it’s a nice one.

“Can we do something fun now, please?” James begs.

“Fine.” Sirius gets up to reset the camera. “You have ten seconds.” You have no clue how the camera works. Does he have a button that’s connected? Is the chord under the rug related to this? Whatever. You can’t think about it for long because James and Lily hop off the couch and start causing chaos.

“Get on my back, Evans,” James says.

“Fuck’s sake,” she mutters, but she hops up, arms around his neck as he walks them behind the couch.

“Alright you two,” Sirius grumbles. “What’ll it be? Five seconds.”

“You’re just bitter because Marlene couldn’t come,” Lily says.

“Not my fault she and Dorcus are snogging in the countryside this weekend,” he huffs.

“I’ve got an idea,” Remus says in your ear. He’s got his cheeky voice on.

“Oh boy.”

Sirius throws his legs over the back of the couch and hands his head off the edge. Remus tugs you down from the arm so you’re in his lap, legs in the air and kisses you. He swallows your sound of surprise and you manage to close your eyes and grab his shoulder as the flash goes off.

“Now I just look like a single prick,” Sirius says.

“Because you are,” James reminds him.

Lily hops off of his back and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “He’s got a point.”

“See if you get prints of this,” Sirius mutters.

You and Remus only have eyes for each other. Your nose is pressed to his cheek. “Thank you,” you whisper in his ear. For this, for being yours, for all of it.

It’s a bit silly to thank each other for this, but you know that it means a lot to both of you. Lily and James have been together for ages and the boys have been friends even longer. You being invited and you showing up means that you’re here to stay, that you’re both in it for the long haul. This thing between you is going somewhere and not stopping.

He just kisses your temple. Remus always knows what you’re trying to say.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[siremasterlawrence]

The Lost Family - The De-evolution Of Man

Harry Miles is a total mess breaking in to my home like I don’t know what at midnight the next morning but he comes tumbling no more barreling through the glass door to my home. I am hoppy from my bed picking up my pat as I race down staircase to the main floor to see him drunk as ever stumbling around like a damn fool but I catch him as he leans on me and I walk him back.

I lay his ass on to the chair leaving him for a few seconds to get some rope to tie him down upon my return and begin to strap him fine wrapping his body with the rope wound under my control. I think to myself walking to my two beautiful former glass doors locking them up, drop the blind to the floor in exhilaration for the event, and flip the lights on as it goes dark then the lights are blinking on and off.

I look at him in that light sweater jacket and jeans and sneakers looking quite nice all I want to do is take him as mine simple just a mind wipe and began undressing him till he is lift solely in his underwear. Standing in front of him I giggle waving my hand in his face as he is frozen in time awaiting all the changes I have planned and show him a shiny white crystal ball flipping it in to the air.

“Beginning now I want you to let your eyes go slowly letting your graze crawl upward in to the ceiling looking at that amazing shiny star floating in the sky so circular in shape to your amazement. It is spectacularly a stunningly glorious object, a crystal ball if I am not wrong because you can’t help but to melt in to it falling deeper in to its trap you are lost.” I spoke to him.

“The crystal ball starts brim with light before it glows up shining perfectly through the hall in to the room everything fades from both of our existences removing you for this entire environment. Watch Mr. as you lose Harry’s consciousness disappearing from reality in to the lower tracks of the mind he lands in the subconscious walking on to an elevator to his own doom.” I continue.

“Harry please descend further don’t look at him because I am your ruler above all things my dear. it is time you let go of the manly utter bullshit, the drama because you are a man but you are a boi. The time warps by as the floor below you rips apart free falling in to abyss as a clock stands by you rolling back in time as your age reverses to a young adult.” I lead him to his end.

“Oh Hey daddy!”

“How are you?”

“Great!”

“Wonderful! Let me untie you “

“Daddy?”

“Can we speak?”

“Sober up first “

“Ok daddy”

“Give me some time “

“Take your time”

“Listen to me”

“Do you know who I am?”

“You are my daddy”

“Which one?”

“My only one”

“Silly”

“I love you daddy”

“Me too”

“What did you want to speak about ?”

“Where were you ?”

“I’ve been here”

“All along “

“I have been so lost”

“We both know that”

“You been traversing through town”

“Drunk”

“Hurt”

“Cold”

“Sad”

“Embrace me “

“I am your son”

“All I see is you”

“You can help so many”

“One day at a time”

“I need to reset you”

“I want to be happy”

Harry is a good boi over the weeks since I have wiped him clean because he has been at my side every day except for his job and when I am away from him to his dismay and am bit of ire. I bought him a men’s necklace with a special silver project telling him he has learnt his lesson so well at the moment and he needs to be rewarded to show him he is so amazing.

While he is at work one day I decide to throw him a birthday party calling all of his friends to the house that night but I need to get him out of the house for a few hours and work is necessary evil for him. As he drives off I am enjoying my victory over him making more plans for the future because he is then start of everything to be and eventually his down full will be my greatest feat.

“You are being so damn unfair dad” he yells frustratingly.

“Go to work now”

“Fine!”

“Will you be here later?”

“Of course but work hard”

“Alright!”

“Come here”

“Stop complaining “

“Sorry! I am afraid”

“Of what?”

“Losing you “

“That will never happen”

“Kneel and wrap your arms on my waist “

“Yes dad”

“Focus on my face”

“You are safe with me”

“You love when I rub you “

“Get up and go to your job”

The end

[factual-fantasy]

24 moar asks :}

..That’s.. That’s a good point.

I’ve noticed recently that I’ve been trying very hard to get all these projects done, but I just cant seem to get past this writers/artist block.. Ingo and Emmet part 3, my FNAF AU, the Rosalina comic.. all of it has just felt really draining. I think its because I’m turning these projects into work, instead of a fun hobby.

I actually was working on the Petey Piranha comic last night, but I just couldn’t get past the sketching stage. So I took a break to draw what ever I wanted and.. I had a lot of fun.

I think I’ve overwhelmed myself thinking I have to do all these projects and get them done quickly for.. what ever reason. And its made art really draining.

I think I’m gonna take all of my projects (aside from my FNAF AU) and just. Put them on the shelf for now. I’ll draw them if I ever feel like it. 

Thanks for the little push anon.

When ever I want. And it’ll be what ever I want :}

@aemered​

If you see that someone has reposted my art and you want to do something about it, first of all thank you very much that’s really kind of you-

SECOND OFF, report it if you can. If you cant then leave a comment saying its stolen and link back to my tumblr or just mention my name. Thanks again! Its really cool that you’d want to do that for me- 💕😭💕

I had planned that he could eat a fire flower and spit out a fire ball, but I later took away that ability. Yoshi ain’t got no fire powers :(

They do exist, and Bowser does care about them.. but he doesn't show it as much as he does in canon. He’s a lot more stern and ruler like. A lot less touchy feely you know?

The idea is that the 1-UP mushroom has fully left Mario’s body. So any effects or pain he experiences all lies in his trauma related to the incident.

Now, if Luigi were to die and be revived by a 1-UP? It would be the same. If the experience was traumatic and he suffered a horrible injury, he would probably deal with phantom pains too..

@tempestrio​

For most of them I just referenced clothing that relates to the attraction/style they have in the game.

For Chica I looked up kids rock star costumes and took reference of what I thought looked good. For Bonnie I looked up old vintage bowling ally shirts and referenced the one that looked closest to his canon shirt. For Foxy I referenced pirate coats and costumes. For Monty I looked up old golfing outfits and picked out aspects that I liked and mixed it with punk/rock and roll. For Roxanne I referenced punk rock I think..? And old racing fire suits.

For Freddy though I mostly made it up.. but I looked at a bunch of different artists that made redesigns for Freddy and tried to capture the vibe of the ones I liked. Mostly the collar on his coat was something a lot of those artists drew-

For Gregory I just gave him a new outfit based on the story. When he went back to the Pizzaplex his clothes were dirty and worn.. so Freddy went and got him new clothes from one of the gift shops. So I went to google and referenced the sweaters and clothes you find throughout the game and gave him stuff that looked similar. Hope this helped! :}

There is! But its not that deep don’t worry-

When I was designing my sona, I wanted something on my hands. At the time my hands were covered in Band-Aids due to cat scratched and dry/cracked skin. So I thought hey! I could have bandaged hands! So I added them.

They also work if you call them my “artist hands” lol-

No, thank YOU for engaging with my content and sending me lovely messages! :D

@thedorkyidiot​

Oh he’s in the AU, he’s probably one of the smaller gorilla types that just kind’a vibes and does old man stuff. He probably has to eat the sweeter fruits though because his jaw isn’t so strong anymore. Much to his dismay.. 

She didn’t cause any problems per say, the Toads didn’t even know she existed. Although she does create these shooting stars every time she comes to the planet.. but that doesn’t bother the Toads either, In fact they celebrate them. So the toads have no issue with Rosalina.

Also she apologized to Mario and Luigi for “disturbing” them because they heard her crying and they went to investigate. :(

And thank you! I’m glad you like my interpretations! :D

Well you’re in luck! My FNAF AU is the only project I plan to not drop and keep working on! Hahaha!... haaahhhh

(Also thank you very much that was very sweet 😭)

@shannonallaround​

I don’t actually have a specific name that I tag my AU under.. but if you were to search “mario” in my blog search you’ll find just about every Mario related post I’ve ever made. AU and not AU.

Not yet.. 👀

The reason why Mario experiences phantom pain is because his first death was very traumatic for him. So whether or not he experiences phantom pains with his future deaths all depends on how he died, and how it effected him mentally.

Same goes for Luigi. If he dies a horribly painful/traumatic death.. he’ll likely experience phantom pains too..

@color-craz​

There was a comic planned for how they met him actually.

They got lost in the woods and stumbled upon King Boos mansion. Like an idiot Mario goes in and Luigi follows. They both ended up getting tormented and pranked by the Boos. They were separated at one point but then met back up on the second floor. Mario sees a fire flower in an old flower pot and grabs it.

As soon as he becomes fire Mario.. the entire mansion goes completely silent..

Then, all the windows and doors slowly shut. Some of the lights come on and Mario and Luigi follow them. They follow the lights down the hall, down the stairs, through the main room and wind up led to the front door..

The front door is wide open. Mario and Luigi walk out.. only for the door to slam shut behind them. Locking them out.

Mario harnessing a fire flower was so bizarre, so impossible! That King Boo knew he was outmatched against him. So King Boo just silently let them out of the mansion without a fuss. 

@mysteriousl0ser​

I’m not sure how they would react to the Koopalings, but I imagine they wouldn't hurt them. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that the Koopalings are just kids..

As for their behaviors.. I think its close to the canon interpretations, except for Ludwig and JR. I had planned that Ludwig was going to be much bigger and more stern like his pa. Because he is the heir to the throne.. but then google told me that Roy is the oldest so there goes that plan-

For JR though his plans stick. JR is supposed to be smaller and younger. More like a toddler then a kid. He’s the youngest and the one Bowser is most protective of. 

@gravitystar96​

Thank you! I’m glad you like my AU! :D

As for if anyone will find Gregory.. I haven’t planned if anyone will or who it will be. Although it will likely be Chica or Monty.

Since Chica is so close to Freddy, she is bound to find out about this entire child that he has kept secret-

As for Monty.. I liked the idea of Gregory hiding for some reason.. and he calls for Freddy through his fazwatch in a panic. After a few minutes he hears big thumping plasticky foot steps approaching. He comes out of hiding thinking its Freddy..

But it was Monty.

I made them brothers because I could :}

Although I’m questioning it now. Maybe they could just be friends. They could just be two idiots who found each other and decided to reek havoc together.

Oooor they could be brothers., Hmm.. I’ll have to give it some more thought XD

If Bowser had gone straight for Luigi, first of all he would have to land a fatal blow twice. Because the power of the Ice Flower would Protect Luigi from one big hit. That’s actually why Mario died in one shot. Because the Fire Flower had just run our of power.

But anyway- after loosing the ice flower and getting hit? Luigi would just die.. and stay dead. Only Mario had consumed a 1-UP mushroom at that point..

I imagined them as these strange monsters that live in the woods. They don’t work for Bowser, or Peach, they just do their own thing. I also imagined them to deal with dark magic and rituals and stuff. 

Wanna hear how Mario and Luigi first met one?

The plan was that the bros and Yoshi were exploring when they found a shy guy with its leg caught in a tree root. Mario carefully approached to try and help.. but the closer he got. The longer and more deformed the shy guy became.

Yoshi ended up snatching them both up and running away. Mario mysteriously had a fever that lasted for a few days after that..

Me waiting for my platonic kiss on the forehead be like:

My favorite character? Oooo that’s a good question. There’s a lot to choose from.. but one of my favorites is Hal Monitor. Always love it when he’s on screen XD

I actually like stupid Mario sometimes, he’s pretty funny XD

So far my favorite arc is the lawsuit arc. Mostly because I’m not caught up on the other arcs. The little nuggets of Mario angst/wholesomeness we got in that arc was delicious XD 

@spencer-the-fox-87​

If the Monkeys were to eat the red beets they would gain more muscle mass overtime. But its not a matter of them not being able to eat them, they just don’t like them.

The blue fruits are very sweet and juicy, and the beets are dry and bitter. The kongs that like bitter flavors eat the beets and grow to be huge. and overtime they develop a dislike for sweet tastes. And vice versa.

[trashpandacraft]

I'm a long time knitter thinking about getting into spinning (probably not soon bc I live in a tiny apartment and barely have room for my knitting stuff), but I'm curious: what do you do with your handspun yarn? Do you ever spin enough to make a larger project like a sweater? (That's mostly what I like to knit)

one of the cool things about handspun is that you can literally make anything out of it!

i personally have made socks, shawls, hats, mittens, scarves, and—once—a baby sweater, but not an adult sweater. (yet.) this is for a couple reasons, though.

first, i'm fat. i'm not especially fussed about it, but it does mean that just from a coverage perspective, my 53"/135 cm bust is going to need a lot more yarn than someone with a 35"/89cm bust.

the second reason complicates the first: i really don't like knitting with worsted-and-heavier yarns. i'm currently working on a jumper that has 4.75 stitches to the inch, and i am suffering because i hate how big everything is. so spinning for a jumper for myself means probably 2000 metres of sock weight. which, don't get me wrong, would be fun, but this brings me to:

the third (and biggest) reason, which is that i'm disabled, and for a lot of years i had to really limit how much spinning i could do because my damaged hips couldn't bear the motion of treadling. for probably ten years, i didn't spin more than 100g of anything, because even doing that much could take me a month or more of regular spinning sessions.

that said, reason the third has been largely mitigated by my eel wheel, so i've actually been thinking about trying to spin for a sweater this year! my personal physical issues made spinning really hard for a while, but generally speaking, there's absolutely no reason you can't spin for a sweater, and there are quite a few people around here who've done so with beautiful results.

i will say, with regards to spinning, that it's a remarkably forgiving craft with regards to space. i cleaned out my nightstand the other day and discovered four spindles and 50g of fibre in it—i hadn't even realised they were in there! spinning supplies can be really tiny, so it's actually a great choice for small spaces. a drop spindle and some fibre will fit almost anywhere you want them to, so space doesn't have to be a huge concern if you don't want it to be. i hope you give it a go!

[xelasrecords]

As Daylight Comes

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin and MC have been married for a while, and their friendship with Jihyun is stronger than ever, so what better way to spend their morning together than to have breakfast with a side of teasing and musing on life?

Challenging myself to write a fluffy domestic scene because I realised I rarely write one. I also wanted to write Jihyun with his good ending personality because I barely see it in fics, so here he is at his healthiest mentally.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

The two men's hushed laughter eased her awake, the morning sun a soft gleam behind her closed eyelids. The first voice was clear and deep, one that she heard every day and night spoken like an oath to her soul. The second was gentler, a pleasant lilting voice that she and her husband often heard in their regular calls. She smiled to herself and threw the covers aside; she had already known who she would see before reaching the doorway. They were the sounds that she knew well and loved.

At the dining table, Jumin, her Jumin, was sitting with his back facing her, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up. He was leaning forwards, engrossed in telling what she was sure to be a fascinating idea he had recently thought of and possibly should not ever be acted upon. Jihyun was sitting on the other side, his head ducked in an attempt to smother his laughter, mint hair catching the glimmer of sunlight that passed through the floor-length windows as he moved.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of their dearest friend. Finally, they were together. They did not have to painstakingly arrange calls that were always cut too short by their own lives anymore.

Watching them, she didn't think it was possible for them to be any less content than they were now and almost didn't want to intrude. Jumin's sincere laugh, the unrestrained kind only she could pull out, was floating across their spacious home. But she knew them, and knew that they would rather her join them and make their happiness complete. Time did not wear out their love for her, or her love for them. It strengthened their bond, pulling them in tighter than ever.

She could never grow tired of it. It was a feeling she had become accustomed to, yet still marvelled at the wonder, the near impossibility of it.

She padded across the room, the light granite floor cold beneath her feet, and slid her arm around Jumin's shoulders. "Wonderful morning everyone. I wasn't aware we had company." She pressed her lips against his mussed black hair, catching a faint whiff of fresh wild cedar. Jihyun, having seen her approach, visibly brightened and gave her a wide smile, one she graciously returned.

With one hand around her waist, Jumin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her shoulder, sliding up the thin strap of her loose top that had drooped down. "The company had stopped by unannounced."

Jihyun looked sheepish. "I'm sorry we woke you up. I thought we had been quiet enough."

"I'm honestly furious that you didn't wake me up earlier," she said good-naturedly. "Were you just going to leave if I didn't?"

"Jumin told me how you had to stay up all night for work. I didn't want to disturb you."

She waved it away and picked up a turkey sandwich in front of her, eating it with enthusiasm. "Disturb me all you want. I welcome it."

"Are you sure you don't need more rest?" Jumin murmured into her ear, both arms circling her waist. "I could force him to stay until you wake up later. Glue him to the chair with a powerful adhesive or a magic spell. I may not be the pioneer of creativity, but I have brought several creative projects to fruition. I could think of something."

"With determination comes great result?" she suggested.

"Exactly. There is no reason I can't attempt sorcery if nothing else works."

She turned around and winked. "I could help you with the enchantment."

He sighed into the crook of her neck. "This is why I married you, my exceptional wife. You are ever supportive and full of love."

Jihyun smiled despairingly into his slice of sandwich. "Why are you two the way you are?"

She and Jumin shrugged in one coordinated movement.

As she scanned the table for more food, she realised there were a variety of sandwiches and fruits spread across the marble top. Silently, she sent Jihyun her gratitude for bringing an abundance of anything other than pancakes. However much she loved Jumin, she was quite sick of slathering strawberry jam or maple syrup or even more strawberries on the pancakes he made.

The fruit assortment interestingly lacked strawberries too.

"This sandwich is good, Jihyun. Did you make this?" She examined her second helping of a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand. The cheese was still oozing when she bit into it.

He grinned. "Ah, it is?"

She performed a dramatic moan. "Orgasmically so."

She held back her laugh at the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. Truthfully, she might have sent a text to Jihyun to save her from a lifetime of pancake breakfast. And he might have responded to her plea with utmost seriousness and come to her rescue the very next day.

It was a possibility that they might have conspired on something that would have mildly offended Jumin, yes.

Some secrets were best kept as secrets.

But Jumin, blissfully oblivious, was studying her with extreme amusement. "I have to remind you that we skipped our morning sex. If you are heavily aroused, you only need to ask." His voice had dropped low, his breathing fanning her neck. "I will give you everything that you desire. It is what I wish for myself as well."

She leaned against his chest and whispered, "Make it an afternoon quickie. Let's do it later."

"So you're giving me the order to wait." His hands ran up the inside of her bare thighs until they reached the lining of her shorts, his clothed knees nudging her legs open. She suppressed a shiver; familiar was his touch to her, a pleasurable rush still spread across her skin whenever he did it. "What do I get in return? A fair bargain has to benefit both parties."

She squirmed against his thighs on purpose, knowing the friction would crack his composure. "You get a lesson in patience," she drawled, voice low and raspy, "and I get to watch you exercise your iron will. I will be satisfied. Didn't you want me to feel good?"

Jumin looked scandalised. "In nowhere would that be constituted as a fair deal, and patience is a virtue I have long been practising. I wish to propose an alternative."

"Shall I take my leave?" Jihyun interrupted. "I don't have to see to know what you two are doing down there."

"Nothing!" Hastily, she put away Jumin's hands and grabbed Jihyun's over the table before he could stand, ignoring Jumin's huffing. "Please stay. We are two very chaste adults."

Jihyun's smile was wry. "That's not what I heard about your sex life."

"You told him?" She whirled on Jumin. "I thought you'd have more respect for my intimate life. This is a breach of my privacy. I'd never got a betrayal of this magnitude, and from my own husband!"

"Interesting," Jumin said. "Would you like to know how he reacted when I recounted our latest session? He was not surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he was too ready to supply a reaction. I have to wonder if he had prepared himself beforehand."

She narrowed her eyes at Jihyun. "You traitor."

"I was just trying to be supportive, but I suppose Jumin has always been too good at reading my intentions." Jihyun shook his head regretfully.

"That's right," Jumin said, a smug tone in his voice. He was always proud when he could prove their decades of friendship through their mutual understanding.

With a scoff, she shifted to the chair beside him and scooped a handful of blueberries and an egg sandwich into his plate before doing the same for Jihyun. When she looked down, she saw that Jihyun had filled hers as well. For a while, the dining room was silent as they dug into their meal, save for the cutleries clinking against plates and fabrics rustling when they helped each other with more food and drinks.

She could live like this every day, she thought. It wouldn't be so bad to have Jihyun here more often. Jumin was one of the kindest people she had ever known, but he had edges that remained sharp and could only soften in the presence of his best friend. Jumin with Jihyun was fully at peace, and Jihyun was no different. He spoke his mind without holding back and did not hesitate to share his art with him. Between them was a sense of safety she never found between anyone else.

Anyone else except her own friendship with him.

Jihyun meant just as much to her, and she to him. They would sacrifice their sleep if one was ringing up the other in dire trouble, despite being on opposite sides of the globe. And sometimes Jumin would leave them to talk into the night while he slept, knowing they had things they were more comfortable sharing alone, though he would chide her for the black rings under her eyes in the morning and fuss over her.

Jumin was never jealous. Rather, he was delighted that his wife got along well with his best friend and had no qualms announcing it whenever he could, not caring if anyone thought it strange. To him, the joy of seeing the two people he loved the most being close surpassed other petty emotions. She could read it on his face. It would have broken his heart if they found each other's company distasteful.

She wondered if it was the same for Jumin, if he could see that she cherished Jihyun and had missed him too. She might have entered their lives later, but time did not dictate closeness. If someone were to be taken out of the equation, the other two would be left flailing, stranded with half of their string cut.

She felt the three of them were always better when they existed in the same space.

"Did you know why he came here?" Jumin cut through her thoughts and gestured at Jihyun. "He claimed to have forgotten his camera. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted it as a reasonable excuse, except he has done this three times."

"You said it like it's a bad thing. Do you not want me to drop by?" Jihyun asked mildly.

Jumin raised his brows. "You're an artist. You could have come up with a more creative excuse."

She straightened up and looked right into Jihyun's lively eyes. They were the eyes that had freed themselves from the sorrow that plagued his younger, more foolish years. "Ignore this cynical guy. He doesn't know that joy is found in little things. I, for one, commend you for your intricate planning. That is some strategising and determination you have shown. Anyone who doesn't appreciate your effort shouldn't be eating your food." She glared at Jumin.

"Thank you for recognising my effort, but that isn't all." Jihyun paused. "I also missed you. I enjoyed my trip, but the places I visited made me yearn to come back because you weren't there. Of course, I speak including you, Jumin."

"I see I have been demoted to an afterthought," remarked Jumin.

"That is what you get for acting all mighty." She rose to fetch a glass of orange juice from across the table, Jumin holding back the front of her loose white top as she leaned, but Jihyun was faster. He had noticed what she had been eyeing before and placed the glass in front of her. She smiled gratefully at him; she doubted there was anyone more eager to help than Jihyun. It was a quality she and Jumin liked to discuss admiringly among themselves.

Jumin settled back into his seat and picked a grape from the centre platter. "I don't appreciate the poor translation of my intention."

"At least you know you can rhyme," she said and turned to Jihyun. "You have to know how much he pined for you. He stared out the window like a Victorian lady waiting for her husband to be relieved from his duty. I thought he was one second away from being locked in the attic." She shook her head solemnly. "So close to being driven to madness from yearning."

Jumin let out a flat gasp. "Why, I never."

"Nevertheless," she pounced on, "I am not without conscience and virtue to lock anyone away, especially when that person is someone of my own heart, so I had no choice but to persist. Have some pity on me, I beg you!" She clutched at her chest.

Jihyun burst into laughter, which produced a small smile from Jumin. "All right, I'll admit I missed you," Jumin gave in. "I could use seeing you more often."

A brief look of wonder flashed in Jihyun's eyes, searching Jumin's and was quickly reassured when they recognised the familiar fondness in his unwavering gaze. The steel in Jumin's grey eyes dared Jihyun to refute it, but he wouldn't, not this grown version of him.

Some people struggled with getting used to being loved unabashedly. She recalled when Jihyun was a younger boy and how he would rather stake himself than accept the love he was given, but that was long ago. Time and their persistence in loving him had encouraged him to be brave, and Jihyun himself had learned to allow people to love him. The vulnerability of baring your soul to love someone could be unbearable, but believing you were worthy of love could be just as unthinkable.

She was glad he had Jumin to rely on when they were children, and Jumin had him to be his true self with. What had been a constant, stumbling search for faith in each other had grown into intrinsic trust.

"How long can we do this still?" she wondered aloud. "Sometimes I feel like we haven't changed—we have eaten together like this more times than I could count—but we're not who we were anymore, are we?"

"Four hundred and five times," Jumin stated. "Barring other types of gatherings and casual hang-outs. A lot of things have happened since the first one." He lifted her hand against his lips and kissed the back of it reverently. She remembered the time before they fell for each other and how after they had, their connection had become more intimate than she had thought possible.

"You keep track, I should've guessed." Jihyun's voice held infinite softness. "It was an eternity ago. Goodness, we were such wide-eyed kids then."

"Perhaps the time we have left doesn't matter as much as the time we have shared together—the time we are sharing now," Jumin said. "But sometimes as I'm living in the present, I can already see how we will be entombed in history, though it's a memory that I will look back on fondly."

"Please don't say 'entombed'," she said. "Memories don't die just because they have passed. We keep them alive, just like this. We'll continue to talk about nonsense and eat good food and be there for one another. Otherwise, we wouldn't have anything to hold on to when life gets hard."

"Or maybe we won't do this forever. We can't tell what the future holds," Jihyun mused. "Change is the natural order of the universe, but in this life full of changes, I can always count on you two to be here for me, to make me happy." He smiled at them, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Jumin nodded contentedly, and she laid her head on his shoulder, sharing his peace.

"I certainly would be appalled if I stayed the same all these years." She shuddered. "I like that we change together, that our new shapes still fit each other somehow. I've grown out of enough friendships to know that this isn't always the case."

"I'm afraid I cannot comment much on friendships." Jumin frowned. "My friendship with Jihyun is the only true one that I have, but it wouldn't be complete if you never came into my life—our lives. I will always be thankful for that. You brought us all closer."

With an arm propped on the table, she watched Jumin's thoughtful expression and eased the crease between his forehead. He had spoken aloud of what she was thinking about earlier, the completeness of the bond between the three of them. It was funny, how sometimes it was as if his mind and hers were intertwined. The time they spent together has left an indisputable mark, seemingly without her notice.

Time was often like that. One day you clambered through life with cuts on your knees and found yourself standing on steadier ground, wiser but irreparably changed in the next. It did not beat on a steady rhythm; it sprinted and languished at the exact moments you wished it not to.

"Everything he said was true," Jihyun reached over the table to squeeze her hand. It was soft in her touch. "You're a blessing on earth. I was right to come here right away."

"Meeting us is always the right decision," said Jumin adamantly.

"Except if he's asking you to translate an ancient necromancy spellbook that's ninety-nine per cent fake, then maybe it isn't a good idea to be here," she added.

"Ninety-nine per cent?" Jumin sounded offended. "It's disrespectful to equate a book that holds mystical wonders unimaginable to mankind to a lousy disinfectant."

Jihyun ignored him and looked at her warily.

"He made me light up pungent-smelling candles around the house with him. I still don't want to know what kind of candles they were." She grimaced at the memory. "We had to move out for a few weeks until the smell disappeared."

Jihyun wrinkled his nose at Jumin. "What dead creature were you trying to raise?"

"A mouse that my bodyguard accused Elizabeth the Third has killed. Petty murders are below a lady as dignified as she," he declared with conviction. "I should know."

A look of surprise passed over Jihyun's face. "And you care enough about the mouse to call it back from death?" he asked slowly.

"I needed to put it under interrogation to extract the exact cause of its death," Jumin said. "It was imperative that I clear Elizabeth the Third's name."

"Naturally," she cut in cheerfully. "When one dies, one can simply be revived and questioned about one's lethal injury. No worries whatsoever that recalling the event might be traumatic to them."

"Did it, um"—Jihyun struggled to find the right word—"come alive?"

Jumin sighed in defeat. "I would have to try again another time."

"You would not." Her tone was severe. "You will either lose the truth of Elizabeth the Third's innocence or me. Your choice."

Jumin looked tortured, but she did not budge. Jihyun's eyes danced between them with amusement.

Eventually, Jumin splayed his hands out in resignation. "I shall comply with your wishes."

She patted his arm. "It's for the best. You don't want to accidentally exorcise the whole world with your corpse-raising activities. I can only support your hobbies up to a point, love."

At that, Jihyun chortled into his drink and Jumin shot him a betrayed look, though he still offered his handkerchief to him. "Not that I don't believe in you," Jihyun said when he calmed down, "but your experiments tend to be disastrous. Maybe you should consider those around you. We're the ones who have to deal with your mess."

Jumin crossed his arms. "You two have no loyalty towards me, especially you, dear lovely wife." He tilted his head at her. "You're supposed to be the love of my life. My sworn life partner for eternity."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I did agree to glue Jihyun earlier. Was that not enough?"

"This is about me now?" asked Jihyun.

She produced a coy smile. "You're always in our hearts."

Jumin, seeing the opportunity to shift the blame, quickly said, "That's true."

"You two have sadistic hearts," Jihyun pointed out.

"Don't even try to deny that sadism isn't what you're into," she said and grinned when his cheeks heated up. "I know about your fantasies too."

Unfortunately, Jumin took this moment to inspect the table and made an astute observation, cutting off Jihyun's stammering. "It has occurred to me that we have too many sandwiches and no pancake in sight."

Her and Jihyun's attention snapped on each other, eyes widening in horror.

"Did you know how easy it is to make a strawberry pancake, Jihyun? We could eat it every day," Jumin went on.

"We could, yes," Jihyun said tactfully, "but it doesn't mean we should. Anything too much could make you sick, my friend."

"And I'm full," she chimed in. "Maybe next time?"

"She did eat a lot earlier," Jihyun said.

"Did you?" Jumin stared at her with suspicion.

She leaned back and rubbed her stomach. "A whole lot. If you force me to eat, I'd have no choice but to vomit everything onto your lap. That would disrespect Jihyun's hard work on packing all this food, and I'd be sick and have to eat again—which would be a major annoyance with a burned throat—and you'd have to change into stripeless pants."

Jumin looked puzzled. "But I have other striped pants."

"Not if I used all of them to clean up the vomit."

He sighed but relented. "If you say so."

When Jumin averted his gaze, she breathed out a silent air of relief and felt Jihyun nudging her foot beneath the table, a playful twinkle in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a flat line, fighting the smile threatening to break his sympathetic ruse. She prodded his foot back and gave him a light shrug.

Not long after, Jihyun would have to leave for yet another thing and she and Jumin would have to count the days until the next time they met. But it was not their concern yet. Right now, the murmurs of their talk and the music of their laughs were enough for her. There was nothing to complain about when they made her happy.

Distance and frequency of meetings did not matter. She could have one minute with them together and still be satisfied, however temporary the satisfaction might be. A mere minute would make her yearn for more until they piled up to make an infinite, but she was not demanding. Whatever little time they could carve out of their routine was enough.

This was good. They were happy and radiant and comfortable that she allowed herself to believe that it could last forever.

And it would. Their love would never wane.

-

Footnotes:

One thing I love about their friendship is how honest they are with their appreciation. They're not ashamed of showing that they care, and their elegant linguistic style (though V's is more casual than Jumin's) makes it easy to write their vulnerable feelings just as they are. They don't toughen up their words or purposely censor them when they get emotional. They're fluent in articulating their feelings, and I think this would be even more natural when they've all been close for a long time.

The domestic scene challenge was made easier since I was vibrating with giddiness to express more love for Jumin and V. I'm the happiest when I write about love and them. Grinning maniacally every time I type their story out.

Before anyone comes at me, I don't think Jumin would be jealous. He could be possessive when he's gripped by his darker thoughts, but in this phase of his life, he's stable. He's secure in his marriage, he has a grounded relationship that's nurtured over the years with MC, and he shares a safe emotional space with V. Everyone is at their best here. The three of them have complete trust and respect for each other.

When I first started writing here, I used to think I have to make the MC's personality neutral enough so that most readers could relate, but now it's free real estate. I do whatever I want.

I was nostalgic about my college days' friendship, hence the more sombre tone in the middle. It feels natural in my friendships to joke around and make sexual quips in one moment and reflect on life in the next. I wanted to recreate that safety and sense of belonging I used to feel.

This was supposed to be finished earlier but I suddenly went through a friendship breakup during the editing stage, so I couldn't find it in me to write about the joys of friendship when I just severed one of mine. She was my close friend for almost a decade. I still think about her from time to time.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.