#just putting those two down i am not tagging this properly

[applecranberryjuice]

My pookie blorbo babygirl crazzzzy girl dinner girlfailiure of a girlfriend

[saintslewis]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: tattoo artist!lewis hamilton x black fem!reader

summary: in which reader needs a good tattoo artist to help her vision come to life and lewis, a mutual friend, is recommended and is more than happy to help you out.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, mentions of tattoo needles, mentions of w33d, smut (18+ mdni), pet names, just read 🫵🏽 (buckle in, frens) sorry for typos!

saint’s team radio 🎀: heyyyy! this spawned in my mind in the middle of the night and my super talented fren @mauvecherie-writes came up with this masterpiece. hope you all enjoy 🤭. (anon i hope this does your request justice!)

tags: @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @httpsserene @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @peyiswriting @purplelewlew @alika-4466 @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @louvrepool @motheroffae @lorarri

pls like, reblog and comment! 🫶🏽

pls note, the lady in the header does not represent the reader! 🫶🏽

“You’ve been sitting there thinking so hard, I could see steam comin’ out your head.” Marie laughed as she walked close to you with two mimosas in her hand, handing one to you. The get-together she occasionally hosts with all of your mutual friends was in full swing, everyone in different corners of the huge house.

Giving her an eye roll, you sipped on the drink before answering. “Girl, fuck you.” You cussed, hearing her laugh. Following close behind her was another one of your friends, Lani. Her kitten heels clacked against the tiled floor as she sat next to you on the light blue couch.

“What’s going on, what’s the tea?” She sipped on her drink and held onto it and she looked at you. “Well my lovely friends, I’ve been thinking about getting a back tattoo for a good minute now.” You replied, leaning back into your seat as your friends gasped with excitement.

Marie held your manicured hand in excitement, “Girl oh my god, it’s going to look so good on you!”. Lani then put her drink down then sat up to look at you properly. “What you gonna get? How big?” She asked.

“A red dragon maybe. Covering the whole thing, It’s been on my mind.” You answered, looking between your excited friends. “Anddd you’re wearing a backless dress right now! Y/n, you better get this damn tattoo.” Marie said, still very much holding onto your hand.

“Anddd it’s going to look great during backshots.” Lani smiled and that earned her a smack on her arm from you.

“Stop thinkin nasty. I just want it because I think it’ll look good with all those backless clothes I got.” You admitted although the thought of it made your skin a little warm. “So what’s stopping you from getting it, bae? ‘Cause I’m excited like I’m getting it.” Marie gushed. “Can’t find a good artist around here who caters red ink for black people.” You shrugged.

It was tough trying to find tattoo artists in your city, much less those who work well with red ink. Most were extremely pricey, others worked with complicated pieces and only wanted pieces like portraits or lions or they just left you on read after attempting to make an appointment.

A moment passed by and Lani smacked your leg repeatedly as she came to a realisation. The look of unspoken excitement travelled between your friends and soon enough, you knew they were plotting something.

“Y/n, oh my goodness you genius!” Marie exclaimed and that made your eyebrows furrow even more with confusion.

“Okay, I am very confused by what is happening so I’m just going to grab another snack.” You voiced out and you couldn’t even move because both women held you down as they smiled like maniacs.

Lani nodded first then turned her head to look at you. “Okay okay. Y/n, we’ve got the perfect artist for you. D’you remember Lewis?” She grinned and you tried to think about it fully.

Lewis, Lewis…oh god, that Lewis. The incredibly beautiful man you met through your clearly unhinged friends at a housewarming party two years ago. He was that type of distant crush that would never go away even if you tried and it didn’t help that he was the quiet type who would hang out with your large friend group every now and then.

“…uh huh. What about him?” You replied, hoping that no one heard your voice almost falter at the mention of him. “He’s a tattoo artist! I don’t know how I forgot but that man just keeps to himself for real.” Lani chuckled before continuing. “But yeah anyways, he could do it for you!”

Never in a million years would you think that he would be a tattoo artist and funnily enough, his arm is filled with them. You actually had no clue what he did, always curious whenever you saw the G Wagon that he would hop into after any get-together was over.

“I don’t know, you guys. I’d have to talk to him first about everything and that seems like a lot. I don’t wanna bother the guy to squeeze in someone who has no clue what they’re doing-” You stopped your ramble once you realised that your friends were just staring at you.

“Girl, you never ramble like that unless you find a dude cute.” Marie teased as she watched you avoid eye contact with her. Smacking your lips, you shook your head and tried to appear like this news didn’t phase you.

So focused on the subject at hand, you didn’t notice that Lani was gone. Finally hearing the familiar clack of her heels, you looked up and your breath hitched. You had just denied even thinking about him but there stood Lewis, quietly chewing on his gum with a glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

With your hand still in Marie’s hold, she squeezed it as she stood up and moved to stand next to Lani. “Lewis, you remember Y/n, right? An absolute beaut.” Lani started. “Anywho, my good sis wants a tattoo and obviously, you came to my mind. Aight, see y’all later.” She continued and just like that, her and Marie disappeared.

“I’m sorry for them, they can get a lil crazy.” You spoke, offering your hand to him and he gently shook your hand with both of his large ones. “They’ve also had some green gummies so I get it.” He smiled and that alone, just sent you to another dimension.

He’s British. You made sure to make little notes along the way.

And he dressed incredibly well. Sleeveless white shirt, white cargos, air force ones and his huge tattooed arms on display. The jewellery making the outfit look all the more good.

It also didn’t help that your dress was the same shade of white as his entire outfit.

“Although we’ve briefly met before, I’m Lewis. Nice seeing you again.” He introduced himself, not breaking any eye contact with you and he could tell you weren’t expecting to see him. “Y/n. I’m sure those two already told you why they dragged you here,” You nervously smiled. “Didn’t wanna waste your time with my questions.”

“You’re good, love. Wanna sit down and talk about it?” Lewis asked, pointing to the couch you were just sitting on. This area of the house wasn’t crowded so you could hear each other clearly.

The nickname he called you by threw you into a loop, nodding at him as a response because you couldn’t come up with one on the spot.

The two of you went on to speak on everything revolving around the tattoo. Your experiences trying to find a good enough artist that you wanted to feel comfortable with, the placement of it and the design. There were all types of jokes thrown into the conversation, making you feel comfortable. He also listened, nodding and replying after you spoke.

“So I’ve got two options if I decide to chicken out of the dragon one.” You said, twiddling your fingers as you still avoided eye contact with Lewis. “Alright even though my favourite would have to be the dragon.” He winked, chewing his gum.

You flushed hearing him say that. You couldn’t imagine being naked in front of him, letting your body be a canvas he gets to work on. Of course you would like to be naked in another way but that couldn’t happen. He definitely has to have someone in his life. Would he though if he just winked at you? Or was he just playing with you because he can sense you’re shy-

“Y/n, love, you still with me?” Lewis worried a tad bit as he watched you zone out on him. Shaking yourself out of it, you were grounded by his eyes boring into yours. Clearing your throat slightly, you asked a different question. “Uh if I do go ahead with it, where will we be?”

“Right now, my studio is under renovations so I’ve got my home studio. Hope that’s okay with you, anything to help you be comfortable.” He reassured, sitting back and the sight of him just sitting so confidently had you squirming in your seat, having to cross your legs.

“That’s fine,” your voice reaching an octave higher than normal. “What was the other design, sweetie? Haven’t done a tattoo on a client in a while so I’m grateful that I’ll be the one who gets to work on this.” Lewis mentioned, watching you lose your train of thought everytime you two locked eyes and he found it quite endearing.

“…A lower back tattoo, preferably a word or a heart.” You muttered, Lani’s words running through your mind. Stop, you can’t think about that right now. “That’s a nice one.” He commented, tilting his head and admired your shyness.

Ever since he laid his eyes on you, Lewis had made it his mission to find a way to get with you. He was in awe everytime you would show at one of the many games nights or celebrations, looking effortlessly beautiful yet timid as well. He hadn’t known if you were single until a mutual friend mentioned you and blind dates in the same sentence.

Lewis thanked the universe for giving him the chance to do his favourite thing with the woman he had fancied.

After a bit more conversation, you had managed to get his number and bid goodbye to him, a very warm hug from him to you, and you hurried to your car to take several deep breaths afterwards. After not being intimate with anyone for a long while, you were embarrassed that a single conversation left you in a puddle with an all too familiar feeling in your stomach.

Consoling yourself whilst driving, you grew excited for the week ahead for the tattoo, of course.

-

Darting your eyes between your phone and the house you were currently parked outside of, you felt confused although your gps led you to the correct address.

“Sis c’mon, he wore a cartier bracelet like it was nothing.” You joked to yourself, trying to keep yourself at ease with the fact that your entire back will be filled with ink very soon.

Clearly the camera right by the gate was able to see you and the gate opened up for you. Finally parking next to the car you were familiar with, you fixed up your outfit. You tried walking to the front door with an excruciatingly slow pace to try and calm your nerves but as soon as Lewis opened the door, that all went out the window. His gaze was piercing as he leaned on the door frame, watching you twiddle with your nails and walk over to him with the same shy energy you held the other day.

“You can’t be lookin at people like that, Lewis.” You spoke with a slight smile, being welcomed into his large home. “Like how, Y/n?” He smiled as he closed the front door behind him, admiring every inch of your body.

“Like you wanna eat me alive.” You chuckled, choosing to not feel his glare on you after you said that. He chuckled as well, deciding to not comment and wanting you to be comfortable first.

“Anything you need before we start, love? You seem nervous.” Lewis asked, placing his hand on your back and lead you towards his home tattoo studio. An incredibly large room with decor that screamed Architectural Digest, the tattoo chair stitched with his initials ‘LH’ and a candle was lit, a ocean-like scent wafting through the air. You had told him that you liked that candle scent all those days ago and the fact that he remembered made you blush.

Low rnb music was playing and a calm atmosphere washed over you as soon as you entered the room.

“It’s my first big tattoo, of course i’m nervous about it.” You replied with a sigh, plopping down on the soft couch and placed your phone on the record player stand.

Playing with the band of your shorts, you knew he was looking at you from the doorway. “Also it’s a lil silly but I don’t even know if this shit will look good on me, y’know? I wanted this but i guess it’s just the nerves.” You continued.

Not even hearing him move from his spot, you lifted your head to see him crouched down in front of you. His tattooed hands landed on your thighs without breaking eye contact with you. “Can I tell you what I think?” He asked. All you could do was nod. He hadn’t touched you in the way you wanted but in an instant, you could feel a puddle forming.

“On you, it will be the best piece I’ve done because it was made to sit on your body. A canvas that people will get to admire, a canvas that you’ve given me the honour to work on.” He continued, hands barely moving from your legs.

Taking a breath, you finally got the strength to respond to what he said. “Are you always this poetic to your clients?” You tried to joke but his eyes were glued to yours, the same way he looked at you at the housewarming.

“It took me a while to garner the confidence to talk to you, to just be in your presence. Every time I had the luck to see you, I would cherish it because we wouldn’t be in the same room all the time. I want the time we have here to be meaningful. And before you make that adorable timid face, yes, I have always found you attractive.” He spoke and you were just speechless.

“Are you serious?” You managed to speak, your voice becoming softer the more you accepted everything he was saying.

“Would you like me to show you how serious I am about you?” Lewis shifted his legs so that he could kneel in front of you. You could see the truth in his eyes as he spoke, darting between your eyes and lips.

You whimpered and you couldn’t control it, his hold on you was so strong.

“I need your words, princess.”

“Please. Please show me, Lewis.” You whined out.

That was all it took for him to begin to reach for the band of your shorts but you put your hands on his to stop. His eyebrows furrowed and before he spoke, you went for it. “Kiss me.” You breathed out. Lewis stood to his full height then sat on the couch next to you, pulling you onto his lap.

You made the first move and leaned in, your lips moving together in sync as he kissed you passionately. His hand held the back of your neck, bringing even closer while his other hand trailed down your arched back.

Your whimpers echoed throughout his home studio as he pulled away from the kiss, watching you try and grind to get some sort of pleasure in. Gently putting his hands on your waist, he guided you and you gasped as you felt his length, long and hard. Just waiting for you.

It felt unbearable, a knot in your stomach needed to be released and you threw you head back, just wanting to wash over the arousal. Lewis watched how you pleasured yourself on him, your denim clothes restricting the both of you from connecting skin to skin. “You enjoying yourself, darling?” He licked his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes clouded with lust.

You wanted to respond, desperately, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. The warmth from the two of you became stronger, him leaning up to begin peppering kisses on your necks and not wanting to create any marks just yet. “..Yes.” You managed to breathe out and you loved the feeling of his large hands roaming around your body, not able to get enough of you.

Lewis held your hips firmly, halting your movement and that made you want to cry out of not getting a release. “Lewis, please.” You whined and he chuckled against your neck. “Take your clothes off and lie down, princess.” He said, looking at your cute angry face with a slight pout evident.

Instead of doing what he said, you just looked at him in the eyes clearly wanting to start a challenge. However, he knew his gaze made you weak. It was one of his many charms. All he had to do was slightly tilt his head and it had you standing up and slowly taking your clothes off, him following suit. You oggled at him, his tattoos gracefully placed on his skin making your mouth water.

With you laid down on the couch, he crawled up your body and crashed his lips into yours. He held your neck so gently as he kissed your jawline then your neck all the way down to where you needed him the most. Lewis laid between your legs to admire your clothed core, giving praise to your thighs and ass as he planted a kiss on your inner thighs.

“Oh shit…” you gasped as he started licking all around your clit until he planted his mouth on it, your moans bouncing off the walls as Lewis devoured you like you were his dinner. Sticking his tongue in and fucking you with it was really the cherry on top, your hand flying to his head to keep it in place and you ground into his face.

Screaming as he entered two fingers in your pussy, you felt a tear slide down at the immense pleasure he was giving you. It had been a very long time since someone had gone down on you but never had you orgasmed from head before. Until now.

Lewis licked you clean as he climbed up and kissed you so that you could taste yourself. You could tell he wanted to say something but you reached your hand to palm him through his pants, watching the different expressions on his face. Slapping the side of your thigh, he held your face.

“Bend over for me, princess.” With a smile on his face and you knew you were going to be here a while.

-

The buzzing of the tattoo gun sounded out through the room, Lewis wiped the dripping ink from his canvas. He was doing the last bit of work to fully complete his piece on you, the ink contrasting beautifully with your skin.

Finally switching it off and clearing his station to prepare for the clean up and to place the plastic cover on, he lightly smacked your ass to wake you up. “Darling, we’re finally done.” Lewis softly said, already focused on the clean up.

You hummed, “That’s amazing, baby. Thank you.” You spoke all drowsy from the nap you took earlier and the buzzing feeling of your body even after the tattooing gun isn’t touching your skin. Not to mention the sativa joint you smoked together before the final session.

You and Lewis kept this arrangement going, him saying that once he finished his artwork on your back, he’d take you on a date to wherever you want to go and you agreed. The mutual crush you had on each other transcended to a different level, becoming almost domestic every moment you spent together.

“Can I see it?” You asked, rising up from the chair and you looked at him while batting your eyelashes. “Of course you can, princess.” Lewis leaned down to peck your lips then led you to the mirror. You gasped when you saw your dream tattoo, sitting perfectly on your back and your mind was running wild with thoughts already.

“The backshots with this tattoo are going to be amazing.” You giggled and he just rolled his eyes. “Okay that’s enough weed for you, baby.” Lewis chuckled then lightly tapped your ass.

“You were thinking it though!”

saint’s notes 🪩: mind you this has been sitting here since feb 🧍🏽‍♀️. this is dedicated to @mauvecherie-writes , thank you for your patience fren 🤭 and yes the monaco fit made me go feral.

[hotluncheddie]

Wherever you go, that’s where I am.

lovely @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx mentioned writing some more mid 20s, slightly softer body steve <3 so here is: Five times Eddie loves Steve’s body and one time Steve loves Eddie’s 

wc: 3.5k | cw: none | rated: M | tags: established relationship, body worship, feral pining goblin eddie munson, chubby steve harrington, fluff, they're in love (so so so in love)

ao3

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

1.

Eddie leaps back into the bed, mattress bouncing. He’s been hit with the post coital zoomies, which unfortunately go against Steve’s post nut ritual of passing the fuck out. 

But Eddie doesn’t mind. Not when Steve looks so soft, all curled up, laying on his side. 

Eddie cleans up, Steve teeters on the verge of sleep until Eddie’s finished and spoons him. It’s foolproof. 

He nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder, kissing over the skin and down his back. He traces over the scars at Steve’s hip, just like his own. It still makes Eddie shiver when he thinks about it sometimes, him and his boyfriend, connected like that. 

Eddie nuzzled in more and Steve lets out a sleepy groan. He’s so cute when he gets fucked boneless. Eddie would know, he’s the one that gets to do the fucking. 

Letting his hands roam further Eddie sneaks around to Steve’s stomach, stroking the soft hairs of his happy trail and letting his fingers press into the slight pudge that sits there now. It feels nice, like his Steve, relaxed and happy and safe. 

‘I like this’ Eddie says, giving the soft skin a squeeze. 

Steve grunts. ‘Wha?’ Eddie thinks he says, Steve’s face is smushed into the pillow. 

Eddie smiles, kisses his shoulder. ‘This.’ Eddie squeezes again, splaying his whole hand over it, pressing his fingers into the warm skin slightly. 

Steve just grunts again, turns his head to lay on the pillow properly. ‘I’ll go for a run tomorrow.’ He says, voice still rough with impending sleep. 

‘What?’ Eddie asks, because, huh? ‘Steve, I just said I like it.’ and Eddie scoots closer, tries to get a look at Steve’s face over his shoulder. 

He seems to be puzzling something out in his head, eyebrows slightly furrowed over his closed eyelids. ‘Oh.’ He says softly. ‘Kay.’ And he shimmies back into Eddie more, face smoothing out. 

Eddie squeezes him, tucking him up into his chest. ‘Yeah oh.’ He murmurs, kissing between Steve’s shoulder blades. ‘Silly.’ He adds fondly. Silly guy, how could he think Eddie sees him as anything other than the breathtaking, heavenly angel that he is? 

Steve just grunts again, resting his hand over Eddie’s on his stomach and falling dead asleep. His soft snores filling the room. 

Eddie resists the urge to bite his shoulder. Instead curling around him more and holding him as close as possible. Maybe they should talk about this at some point, why his mind went where it did. 

Not right now though. right now Eddie just lets himself drift off, lulled by the steady breathing of his most favourite person. 

2.

Eddie is going to erect an alter. And build a shrine. And kneel before it to give thanks. 

And it will all be dedicated to one, Bruce Springsteen. 

Eddie will never ever, cross his heart, ever complain about Steve playing ‘Born in the USA’ multiple times in a row. He’ll even put it at the top of his all time album lists. He’ll do it. He will. 

Because that album cover, that guy, those songs, inspired his Steve to look like that. 

And Eddie has never been a winner. But he hit the fucking jackpot today. Every day. All the days Steve will still let Eddie have him. 

The band had taken a trip into Chicago for some very exiting meetings. With Steve, angel that he is, offering to chauffeur so none of them would be too tired, and so they only had to spring for a hotel for one night instead of two. 

During said meeting Steve had been entertaining himself. The latest that Eddie got out of had been the longest and most exiting, so he’s happy. 

He’s maybe even happier though that Steve found such a productive way to entertain himself. 

Because Eddie too, is entertained. 

He’s waiting at Steve’s car, leaning against the front bumbler. And Steve, blessed, beautiful, jock that he is, had found the batting cages. 

Eddie’s going to write a song about blue jeans. He’s going to send Brucy a letter of thanks for causing Steve to cut the sleeves off his old grey crew neck. He’s going to need to get his mouth on Steve’s dick ASAP if he intends on walking over with his baseball bat over his shoulder the way it is, hips swaying, smug little smirk on his face. Maybe Eddie just needs a lobotomy, it’s all a little too much. 

Steve walks right past him, tapping him under the chin as he goes.

Eddie’s mouth was open, respectfully. 

Then he hears the boot click open, and Eddie quickly scampers around to the back of the car. 

Just in time to watch Steve bend over, putting the bat back, ass round and thick and filling up his jeans oh, so nicely. 

Eddie might have to write a whole album about blue jeans actually. Especially these new ones, a size or so bigger since high school, more room to let the full force of Steve show to the world. 

It’s just, there’s a certain level more bounce to it all now, and it makes Eddie kind of insane. 

And, oh, yep, Steve’s arching his back, okay. He wants Eddie to die, yep, like, actually die, for real. 

He’s not even really keeping up the rouse of pretending to be doing something. He’s just bent over with his back arched and his ass sticking out, shirt lifted just enough for Eddie to see the base of his spine. 

He’s doing it knowing Eddie’s looking. Knowing they’re in public. Knowing Eddie’s looking but they’re in public so Eddie can’t do anything. 

Menace. Brat. Evil. Evil. Evil. 

‘Boys are at the diner down the street. Said we’d meet them there.’ Eddie says, monotone, rough and with herculean effort. They need to go. He can’t do any of the many things he wants to to Steve right now. So they should go, for Eddie’s heart and soul and sanity’s sake. 

Eddie sighs, he really could look at this scene all day, but that would waste time, valuable, Steve and Eddie alone in the privacy of a room time. Which is sacred. 

‘We’ll be home by tonight you know?’ Steve says, leaning on the now closed boot. He’s taking pity on Eddie but he still looks a little smug, which is annoyingly, all, also hot. ‘C’mon, I’ll keep my hand on your thigh on the drive to the diner, the way you like.’ Steve murmurs, coming up behind Eddie and pushing him lightly, steering him towards the car. 

‘Home by tonight.’ Eddie parrots, his life line. He’ll be home by tonight, with Steve. Alone with just Steve, and he can do some of the many many things, whatever Steve will let him, whatever Steve wants.

3.

‘You come here often?’ Steve asks, grin loose and sloppy, eyes lidded. One arm resting on the doorframe next to Eddie’s head. Steve’s staring at his lips. 

Eddie smiles at him, tucks a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear. Cradling his cheek Eddie shakes Steves head slightly. ‘I do baby. I live here.’ And Steve giggles, tucks his head into Eddie’s neck, like this is the best news in the world. 

They’ve just got in from the bar, Steve crowding into Eddie’s space as soon as he got the door locked. Robin found a girl, away for the night. Steve had a couple more than normal to drink. 

Eddie can’t help but laugh along with him, kissing the side of his head and resting his hands on his hips to start walking them backwards towards their room. ‘C’mon big boy.’ He says, just to make Steve giggle more. 

Steve lifts his head back up, smile still big and loose, eyes still lidded. ‘Dance with me?’ He asks, like Eddie can’t tell he’s twenty minutes away for being passed out in bed, his fruity drinks always making him crash eventually. 

But Eddie can’t really say no to Steve, especially not when he’s like this, care free and blinding. When he’s beautifully alive. 

Eddie takes a step back, takes Steve’s hand and twirls him. Steve stumbles slightly, laughing again. 

With his arm up Eddie can see some of his soft hip and belly as his t-shirt lifts, can see that his jeans are unbuttoned. Which is not surprising since they’re practically painted on. Steve explained that he likes feeling Eddie up against him when they dance, likes the way Eddie’s eyes sharpen if someone looks a little too long. And oh, people look, it’s not just Eddie who notices how those jeans fit, how wonderful Steve always looks. 

But Eddie’s the only one who gets to see Steve like this. Home at the end of the night. When Steve needs that extra room, when he lets his soft parts breathe a little better. When he relaxes fully. 

That’s just for Eddie. And it’s the best part. 

Eddie twirls Steve again and lets him fall back into his chest. Giggles dying out slowly and breath coming deeper and slower. Steve hums, squeezing Eddie’s middle and breathing in the skin behind his ear. Steve leaves kisses down Eddie’s neck, a little wet, making Eddie shiver. Steve hums and does it again. ‘Love you.’ He whispers, holding Eddie close. 

Eddie squeezes back, his heart bursting. ‘Love you too baby.’ He says into Steve’s hair, into his bones, into all his soft wonderful edges. ‘Let me take my love to bed now, hm?’ He asks, dipping his hands into Steve’s back pockets, squeezing just to feel Steve tense and then relax against him. 

Steve nods, still in Eddie’s neck. One last kiss and he’s moving. Pulling Eddie by the hand through to their room. Kicking off his shoes and falling onto the bed with Eddie on top of him. Steve’s eyes already closed, breath already slowing and deepening. Like he knows Eddie will take care of the rest of their clothes, knows Eddie will tuck the blanket up around him, will hold Steve close all night. Knows Eddie will take care of him 

Because Eddie will. Always. 

4.

‘Looking good Munson.’ Steve says, jogging past Eddie, panting slightly, smacking Eddie on the ass. Making Eddie jolt and almost spill his coffee. 

He was leaning against the car door, face hidden in his arms because he’s just had to watch his very hot boyfriend complete his weekly work out at the park. Running, push-ups, the whole horrible lot. 

And its ass o’clock in the morning because Eddies vans broke and he needs a ride to work, but he wants his love to have hobbies and be happy and Steve can only get him there if Eddie came along to watch. So, really, Eddie can deal with the early morning but, he’s not sure if his dick can. 

Because ass. 

Ass, was right. 

And hip. And thigh. And bicep. And back. 

Steve is chugging his water, sweaty. His shirt is cropped, his shorts are short and he’s wearing a backwards baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face. 

He’s even got tube socks pulled up over his hairy calf’s. 

He looks like a spread from the magazine Eddie used to keep under his mattress. It was dog eared and kind of, maybe, a little bit.. Sticky. 

And Steve knows about the magazine. 

Steve knows what he’s doing to Eddie right now. 

Eddie glares at him over his largest they own coffee cup. It’s so early and the shirts a little see through. The shorts dig in to the softness at his hips, cut so high Eddie can see the smooth skin of his inner thighs. He watches the muscle and slight chub move when Steve shifts on his feet. 

Eddie walks up to him. Knocking his head between Steve’s beautiful, wonderful, hairy, sweaty pecs. Thud thud thud. 

Eddie groans. 

Why does his boyfriend have to be so stupidly, annoyingly hot right before work? 

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve’s lead and gets back in the car. He glares at the amused smile on Steves face, but then Steve checks all around to make sure the park is still blessedly empty and kisses Eddie sweetly on the temple. Eddie sighs, mollified, he can get over it. 

But then Steve puts his arm around the back of Eddie’s seat, swivelling to look out the back as he reverses. Eddie’s hit with his body heat and smell, all detergent and cologne mixed with sweat and musk and Steve. 

His broad chest right by Eddie’s head, a peak of pink nipple through white cotton, the chain Eddie got him for Christmas dangling into his chest hair. He’s so capable and in control, practical and smart and…

Eddie back at square one. He can’t get over it actually. It’s early and Steve is being a brat dressing like that. Being so hot on purpose. It’s so mean. 

‘You wanna stop for breakfast?’ Steve asks, voice light. 

‘Yeh.’ Eddie grunts, voice small, hands shoved in his jacket. 

‘What d’you want?’ and Eddie can hear the amused smile on Steves face again, his voice a little patronising. 

But Eddie doesn’t care. ‘You.’ He whines, resisting the urge to straddle Steve’s thighs and wrap his arms around his middle and squeeze him. He’d be so warm, and sweaty and soft and strong and perfect. 

They could just make out! Eddie could probably survive all day if he got a bit of tongue down his throat. 

‘Well, I’m getting a breakfast sandwich.’ Steve says, switching to drive and Eddie just whines again, burying his head in his hands. 

5.   

It’s a routine, Eddie doing this for Steve, to make sure his scars heal properly. They won’t ever fade fully but the ointment helps, the doctor said it would, and Eddie likes doing it. Sitting on the edge of the bed and having Steve stand between his thighs, shirt off before him. Eddie likes taking care of Steve like this. Likes that Steve lets him. 

‘You’ve got a new one.’ Eddie says, running the cream over Steve’s skin. 

Steve tenses, looks down at himself. ‘What?’ He asks, confused, a little stressed. 

Eddie hushes him, leans forward and kisses the skin below his bellybutton lightly, before smearing the cream there too. ‘Shh. Here.’ He prods the stretch mark that travels over the softness that now covers Steve’s hip bone, his fingers pressing into the give. 

Steve cranes his neck to look at it, squeezing the skin to inspect it. But he grips so hard, Eddie smacks his hand away gently. ‘Careful.’ He says. Petting over the redness Steve left. ‘That’s my sweetheart you're man handling there, show some respect.’ And he leans back to look up at Steves face. 

His cheeks are red and he looks annoyed, brows furrowed and lips pursed in a pout. ‘What is it love?’ Eddie asks, resting his hands on Steve’s sides. 

‘S’ugly’ Steve mumbles, moving his arms like he wants to cross them but Eddie shifts a little closer and Steve re routs to place them on Eddie’s shoulders with a sigh. 

Eddie kisses his stomach again. Kisses the stretch mark, the scars that travel over his waist. Does the same to the other side. ‘Nah.’ Eddie disagrees softly. ‘You’re beautiful Steve, all your marks are.’ And Eddie kisses his favourite mole, the one that sits below his left pec. ‘But this one’s my new favourite part.’ And he rubs his thumb over the red lightning bold, looks at Steve again. His eyes wide and glassy, his mouth relaxed into the pretties little ‘o’. 

‘Shows how much you’ve grown, how much you’ve healed. It’s all yours baby.’ And he watches Steve swallow, nod his head. 

Eddie goes back to spreading the ointment over Steve’s skin, taking his time, and when he’s finished he lays Steve down, pushing him into the mattress, breathing him in. Promising over and over that he’s so beautiful, so strong and amazing. That Eddie loves him, always has and always will. Until Steve believes him. Until every inch of skin is covered in kisses and praise. Until he’s writhing and panting in the sheets. Eddie kissing his tears away, their lips meeting, salty and slick. 

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other. Eddie almost fully drifted off but not before he feels a final, butterfly light peck on his throat. A little ‘thank you’ whispered into the skin. It’s so quiet he almost misses it. He pulls Steve closer, holds him tighter, and let's sleep take him. 

+1

On Sundays Steve makes breakfast. Or brunch, really, because they always sleep in. But breakfast food, late every Sunday morning. 

He always wakes up first anyway. So he starts cooking while Eddie gets another hour or so of rest. It’s like he stacks them up, needs them to get him through the week. The extra on Sunday allowing him a hour or two leeway for late night Eddie Time after his shifts. Steve doesn’t mind, lets him sleep. 

This week it’s french toast and scrabbled eggs, a little fruit, and, like every morning, coffee. 

Steve hears the telltale thud of Eddie stumbling out of bed. Hears his footsteps travel from the bedroom to the bathroom, and finally into their little kitchen. Where he feels sleep warm arms wrap around his middle. 

Steve smiles into the pan of eggs, Eddie resting his head between Steve’s shoulder blades and sighing. He always takes a long time to wake up, and he’s cute the whole time doing it. 

When he’s had his fill of squeezing Steve, sleepy hands wandering around his torso, head nuzzling against the soft cotton of Steve’s t-shirt, Eddie goes to pore himself coffee. Fills it with milk and sugar before shuffling over the the kitchen table. 

He sits in their creaky wooden chairs, huddled around his steaming mug, eyes bleary and hair a messy halo around his head. Eddie blinks his big brown cow eyes so slowly, staring at nothing. 

Steve turns off the burners and watches the soft spring light fall over eddies shoulders, leaving patches of yellow over his bare skin. Warming the mottled pinks and reds. A patch of light over his thigh, a golden window on the flannel of his low slung pyjama pants. 

his scars have healed well, even with all the grafting and scarring, the doctors managed to do enough to let him survive, let his body become what it is now. he’s stronger, looks healthier than he used to, all the physical therapy and three square meals a day gave him some more definition, more colour in his cheeks. but he’s still wiry, still pale and a little gangly, able to curl up into a ball or spread out and command a whole room. 

He has new tattoos too, stretching over scar and skin. Painting him on the outside with all the wonder and creativity he has swirling in his head. They’re so a part of him, such a perfect addition. The pale tones of pink contrasted with patches of inky black. 

Steve can’t believe it sometimes. That guy he saw in the lunch halls, the one he met in the upside down. Those awful months of Eddie in the hospital. To get to see him now, have him now, this Eddie Munson. His Eddie. 

Steve just. 

Steve can’t take it. 

He steps over, cradling Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. looks down and his loves face. Awed that he gets to see Eddie like this, before all that energy hits him, before his fingers start tapping and his feet need to move, to run, to jump. Gets to see him soft, and quiet and slow. Gets to see his eyes bright and glassy and teary and tired. Gets to see the hunch of his shoulders around his coffee mug, and the curl of his toes against the linoleum. Gets him at his rockstar and his sniffles, at his post work rant and his pre weekend buzz. 

He gets to see all of him. Hard and soft. Dark and light. 

It’s magical. 

‘I love you.’ Steve says, for the hundredth, thousandth time. Kissing Eddie on the lips for the millionth, trying to infuse him with everything Steve has, all the love, all the awe. Tries to put it all there in the kiss. 

When he pulls away Eddie’s sleepy eyes look that little bit brighter, his cheekbones dusted pink. The way they do sometimes when Eddie says Steve gives him “too much attention”. Like Eddie forgets, forgets how much space he fills up in Steve’s brain, his memories, his daydreams. How he can’t look at the sky day or night without being reminded in some way of Eddie. ‘So pretty.’ Steve traces his thumbs over the flush, the tips of Eddie’s ears, fingers trailing over his jaw and scarred neck. 

He kisses Eddie’s forehead and goes to plate the eggs, goes to finish their breakfast. Goes just so he can come back, hold Eddie’s hand, watch him wake up. 

He hopes to every morning. 

For as long as Eddie with let him. 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

tagging list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

also just bc i think you might enjoy: @babydollbaron @spectrum-spectre

title from the Maggie Rodger’s song ‘That’s where I am’ (it’s rly good u should listen to it)

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.5 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Blushing

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Rex being cute, firing practice, target practice, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (I am so happy people want to be tagged <3): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69

Minors DNI

You had to be honest with yourself. 

Your aim sucked. 

As a field surgeon, you technically weren’t supposed to be anywhere near droids. Your main purpose was to stay behind the forces and perform surgery and intensive medical care to those with severe wounds.

Kix would be on the front lines and keep the injured alive as long as possible until he could get them to you. 

You could hit your targets, if they were big enough. Like a tank. Or if they were about 5 feet in front of you…

Ok, you couldn’t really hit your targets. You’ve been with the 501st for months now and you haven’t gotten any better. 

You debated going full clone trooper and just punching the droids. After all, the soldiers had just gotten proper armor for their hands. Maybe you could get a pair of armored gloves…

“Everything alright?” 

You perked up hearing the question from Rex, snapping your attention back to the present. You had zoned out, staring at the same datapad for several minutes now. 

Right, you had come to his office to help a supply crate mix-up. Someone hadn’t properly labeled the crates, so there were blasters mixed with medical supplies, and bandages mixed with armor…It was a mess. And to make sure nothing was missing, you and him were supposed to go over the numbers so no helmet or tube of bacta was out of place. 

You sighed, “Yea, just…thinking. That's all.”

The Captain raised a brow, silently encouraging you to continue.

Over your time with the 501st, you’ve been able to read Rex more than anyone else. You understood what he was thinking through his expressions. You could guess his feelings based on his stance and body language, even when he wore his helmet.

Perhaps it was your training as a doctor that allowed you to read him so easily. 

Or…maybe it was the growing affection you had for him.

It’s a passing crush, that's all. You told yourself, Clones aren’t allowed to have romantic relationships. This’ll pass. Don’t get your hopes up.

Shoving that thought out of your mind you put the datapad down, “I’m a terrible shot.”

Rex let out a soft and surprised chuckle at your blunt statement, “Well…you're technically not supposed to be.”

“No, I mean…even if I need to defend myself or the wounded…I miss almost every shot with a blaster.” You responded, “I’ve tried to practice but…I just can’t aim very well…”

He had a small smirk on his lips, “You can’t be worse than a clanker.” 

“I assure you, I am.” 

Rex laughed again, “I can teach you, if you want. Besides, I’m sure a break would be good for us both.” 

Your heart fluttered. 

“I’d like that.” 

Which is how you found yourself in the hangar, standing about 20 meters away from an empty crate with a painted target. There were scorch marks dotting the metal and yellow paint, indicating that you weren’t the first person to need aim training.

The makeshift target range was mostly out of the way and out of sight of everyone else in the hangar, offering some privacy.

“I didn’t know this was here.” You admitted, staring at the target. 

Rex shrugged, “Some shinies set this up. The General didn’t mind, so I kept it for anyone who wanted to practice their shooting.”

You nodded in understanding. Usually if something didn’t make sense, the answer was always ‘shinies’.

“Alright, now, pick up your blaster.” He took the tone of a commanding Captain. His arms were crossed as he watched you get your pistol ready. You wrapped your hands on your blaster, and got into the stance you were trained to be in. 

You didn’t even put your finger on the trigger before Rex spoke up, “Already, I see the issue.” he stepped towards you, putting his gloved hands over yours. He changed the position of your hold, moving one of your palms from the bottom of the grip to over your other hand. 

You blinked, “Oh, I was holding it wrong.” 

Rex had a relaxed smile, “It's a common mistake.” He stepped back and nodded, “Fire.” 

You pulled the trigger and the blaster kicked back as it fired. However, you managed to keep the gun relatively steady. Your shot missed the target, hitting the upper corner of the crate. With a sigh you looked over at the captain. 

He kept his arms crossed, “Focus on where you’re aiming. Where you look, that's where you’ll hit.”

With a steadying breath, you looked down the sights of your gun and pulled the trigger again. Your shot was closer to the target that time, however, still not a hit. 

“Better.” Rex approached again. This time, he got closer, putting his hands over yours and stepping behind you. You felt the plastoid of his chestplate on your back as he leaned into your body, “Raise the blaster a little higher and try again.”

Don’t get distracted. Don't get distracted. 

You swallowed and pulled the trigger. Again, your shot had gotten closer to the target, barely hitting the yellow of the first ring. Frustration hit you and you huffed. 

Rex laughed softly and it struck you how warm his laugh was. How lovely.

Stop it. Grow out of your crush, you're not some grade school student. You are a grown ass adult. Act like it.

“Just look at the target. Not the sights on the blaster.” The clone captain was rolling incredibly well with your failures. He kept his hold on you as you calmed your emotions to focus. You did as he told, staring at the bright yellow target meters in front of you.

With another breath, you fired. 

This time, you hit the target. Not a bullseye at all, but at least you hit inside the last yellow ring.

“Oh, hey I actually got it.” You perked up, smiling slightly. 

Rex, sadly, let go and stepped back, “Good, now do it again. I want to see you hit the target at least 4 more times.” He put his helmet on, crossing his arms to watch you. He was tense now.

You tried not to let his sudden shift in attitude bother you. He was probably worried that someone might turn the corner and see him so lax and uncaptain-like. Rex did have to be professional after all…

Still, you did miss the warmth he gave. 

Again, you pulled the trigger. Without him holding your gun steady, your shot veered slightly and hit the outermost ring, “That counts.” you stated, looking over to the clone. 

He nodded, “It counts. I’ll be nice this time. But just this once.”

You couldn’t hold back your grin and you shot again. Another hit. Still no bullseye, but you got closer. 

Hey, 3 for 3. One more.

Without getting over confident, you took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. 

Again, no bullseye, but your shot landed inside the second ring. You were improving. Or this was just pure luck. Either way, you’ll take it.

You smiled and turned to look at Rex. He nodded in approval and stepped towards you, “Very good. You learn quickly. Better than most troopers who step off Kamino.” 

“Aw, you think I’m better than a shiny?” You joked, hoping to help him relax.

He huffed under his helmet, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “That’s not a high bar, Doctor.” 

“I’ll take the compliment, Captain.” 

He was about to respond when your and his coms both beeped. He answered his and you answered yours. 

“Doctor, there's a patient in the sick bay.”

“Captain Rex, you're needed at the command bridge.”

With a sigh, you shared a look with Rex and rolled your eyes. You gave him a grateful smile, “Back to work, then?” 

“It never ends.” He sighed, “If you want…if you want to practice again, just let me know.” 

Your answer was kind and sweet, “I will. Thank you, Rex.” 

As you parted ways, you tried to calm your beating heart. 

It's a crush. It's a crush. Grow up. Just grow up already!

Rex, on the other hand, kept his helmet on as he walked away, because he was certain he was still blushing like a damn cadet.

He’s a captain. Captains shouldn’t fucking blush!

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: love letters

pairing: grayson x (first person) reader

synopsis: you and grayson used to but ended on really bad terms. you never thought you’d meet his eyes again, let alone have a conversation… and that conversation changes everything

warning:

a/n: it’s a bit rubbish… sorry… but thanks for reading :)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @stqrsbythepocketful @lxvebelle @mrs-venus-beaufort @emelia07 @f4iry-bell

I slowly make my way up the grand staircase to the main hall. Fancy dinner parties had never been my scene but as required by my employer I begrudgingly accepted. In a dress I didn’t own, or even intend to own I walk to meet my host.

“So glad you could make it,” she smiles a bit too warmly for my liking.

“Thanks for inviting me,” I reply, with the sort of smile you use when you have to be polite, “where am I?”

“Just between those two ladies there,” she explains, gesturing over the the seat between one young black-haired woman dressed in silks and another older woman in a deep blue.

“Thanks,” I nod at her, giving on last polite smile before my jaw got too tired to do so.

I walk over to my seat and go to sit down when something catches my eye or rather someone. I freezes mid movement, my eyes not being able to detach from the sight in front of me. I’ve never felt such a mix of shock and horror and awe in the entirety of my short life. It can’t be… oh but it is. I’d recognise that blonde hair and tailored suit anywhere.

Grayson Hawthorne.

Never again did I think I’d lock eyes with that piercing grey and never did I think it would feel so cold. I sit down and promise myself this will be the last dinner party I ever attend. I never should have step foot out of the house. I never should have agreed to this. Too little, too late now. There’s an odd sort of comfort when he too looks just as stunned, his eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted. The lips I used to kiss.

He opens his mouth to talk but I immediately look downs, avoiding any more eye contact. Conversation between us tonight would not happen. I wouldn’t let it. Nobody has to know I know him, he doesn’t have to talk to me, we can just pretend we’re strangers.

Strangers… the word repeats in my brain around and around. isn’t that what we are now? People who don’t talk or interact or really know anything about each other. Not anymore.

***

I force my eyes not to look at him throughout the whole dinner. I don’t want to look at him, I don’t want to be lured in again because I know my rational brain will go out of the window when my heart takes over. That stupid organ has too much control.

I seek to leave as soon as I can. Immediately after the three courses are done and there’s a window of opportunity to get away I do. I didn’t want to risk bumping into a certain Hawthorne on the way out. I rush out of the doors and towards my ride home. I’m half way down the staircase when…

“Y/N.”

His voice sent a tingle town my spine still. I stop and stand. Just when I thought I could escape him. I let out a breath and turn him around, letting myself take him in properly this time. He was different than I’d remembered him… something felt off. I tilt my head to the side and take in the man before me, the man who left me, the man who broke me.

“Grayson,” I say. My voice is strong and harsh and hard. He will never know how he hurt me.

He stares. I stare. It’s like a stupid competition and yet neither of us seem to give in. I can’t read what he’s thinking or feeling in this moment, but then again I don’t want to know. I’m done with the pain and I can’t put myself through it again.

“What’s the matter with you?” Grayson asks, his tone somewhere between concern and curiosity and judgment.

“What’s the matter with me?” I scoff, my eyebrows flying to my forehead.

How dare he? How much pride do you have to have to ask a question like that? It’s a joke, some kind of stupid joke the world is playing on me. What did I do to deserve this? Why now, why tonight? Just when my life is running smoothly, things like this seem to come along.

“Why are you being so cold,” he says, his brows furrowed, as if I should be dancing around and shitting rainbows around him.

“I’m not,” I snap quickly.

“You’ve barely looked me in the eye,” he expresses, his voice too full of emotion, too unlike his usual tone.

And suddenly I’m furious, I’m blinded by a sudden surge of anger. He wants me to look him in the eye after all he’s put me through? What so he can shoot me a smile and rub salt deeper into the wound he made?

“And you expect me to?” I yell, letting my rage take hold, “After everything we went through?”

“Well I wasn’t afraid of looking into yours,” Grayson snaps back.

“Oh so now you’ve finally overcome your cowardice,” I say with a smile laced with passive aggression, shaking my head, “too little, too late.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so infuriated by my presence, if anything I should be,” he replies.

“You should be?” I scoff, “well of course you would think that, you were always so self-centred.”

“I gave up everything for you,” he yells, his eyes filled with fire.

Grayson Hawthorne has never yelled at me. Grayson Hawthorne doesn’t yell. But I don’t flinch or back down. I ignore this new version of Grayson and bury it under the version I’d forgotten.

“No you didn’t,” I scream, “you say you did but you didn’t. You loved me and loved me and then-“

I trail off, I forget what I’m going to say and fumble to find the next set of right words.

“And then what?” he asks.

“And then you left,” I laugh bitterly, “and oh you left and never said anything again. So what gives you any right to show up here now.”

I don’t know what I’m saying, I’m angry and anger is all I can see.

“I didn’t just leave,” he spits, a venomous anger on this tongue, “I sent you letter every single day for a year and you didn’t answer a single one.”

“Letters?”

My heart nearly stops. I think it actually skips a beat. My brain stops functioning for a moment and everything is blank. If he sent me letters that means everything changes, that means everything is wrong. What I think of him, how I feel towards him, my whole perception of that relationship and what happened and what didn’t.

But he couldn’t have… he wouldn’t, he didn’t want to, he shouldn’t have wanted to. I refuse to believe it. Because then that means all of those sleepless nights of sobbing, all of those times I thought I meant nothing to him, every single day I looked in the mirror and hated everything about me was for nothing.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, “don’t do that, it’s too cruel.”

“No Grayson,” I say, trying to not let my voice waver, staring at him intently, “what letters are you talking about?”

He’s too in shock to reply. My eyes try to find his, darting around like a mad woman’s. I find myself gripping onto his arms and clinging to them. He finally meets my eyes. The grey that was once my world of precious rare metals, then dead like the wilted flowers I wept over and now… now they’re grey like the every changing storm cloud that can’t decide whether it should rain or not.

“What letters!?” I cry, my tone still thick with desperation.

a/n: tell me why this took me like three days to write?? my motivation was nowhere… but oh well. It’s a bit short and sweet, but I hope you guys enjoyed anyway :) requests are always welcome and let me know if you want to be on the tag list 🤍🤍

credit to @cafekitsune for the divided

TIG masterlist

[in-kaeya-we-thrust]

Purple Iruma

tags/warnings: iruma x gn!reader, pre-established relationship, fluff, evil cycle iruma-kun, human reader, abnormal class

a/n: this is a continuation of the imagine I wrote last time

"O-Opera-san!" You huffed as you enter the kitchen. Waking up the second time made you realize what was actually happening.

"Good morning, Miss Y/N. I assume you had a good night's sleep?" Opera greeted, tail flicking in amusement.

"T-There's something wrong with Iruma!" You exclaimed, voice laced with panic.

Opera didn't waste any second and immediately ran back to the young master's bedroom, carrying you with him, of course. Used to the demon's feline instincts, you let them carry you like a sack of rice over their shoulder. But to your both's surprise, you see Iruma sitting on the dining table, peacefully munching on his food.

"Oh, so that's what it is..." Opera's ears perked. They sighed and put you down on a chair, the one right next to Iruma.

They were about to leave when you managed to grab the hem of their shirt. "Opera-san... what do you mean that?" you whispered into their ear.

"Don't worry, miss Y/N. Iruma-sama's just in his evil cycle." They assured.

"I can hear you two, you know." The purple Iruma-kun interjected.

You just sighed in defeat, and took your seat beside him. Looking down at the plate full of food, you realized how none of those will be digested properly today. Usually, your breakfasts with Iruma were always bubbly, watching your beloved happily inhaling his breakfast while telling stories in intervals. Your train of thought got interrupted when a spoonful of your favorite food appeared in front of your face. "Y/N-chan, say ahhhh,"

"T-Thanks, Iruma-san. But I already got my plate full." You kindly rejected his offer, flustered by the gesture. Normally, you'd be the one teasing Iruma with your flirting and all, but now, the tables have turned. You let out a sigh of relief when he put the spoon down. Now, you can eat in peace (kind of).

However, Iruma extended his hand and grabbed your chin, making you face him. He mouthed an 'aaaah', gesturing you to do the same. You were too flustered that you had no choice but to comply. He grinned happily when he accomplished his goal of feeding you. "Good girl," He patted your head.

What am I... a dog? Despite that thought, you can't deny that his cute little praise got your heart skipping a beat.

Who would've thought... that Iruma could be such a flirt?!

That was probably the longest breakfast you had your whole life. The carriage ride to Babylys was peaceful enough. Iruma resting his head on your shoulder with his hand on your lap is not that much of a deal. Yep, everything's fine, you're totally okay with this. Couples you read in books often do this, so it's totally normal. But the issue is... Iruma's not like that! Not in the slightest bit! At this point, you assumed that he's doing this in purpose just to tease the hell out of you.

When you arrived at royal one, you thought Asmodeus and Clara would be able to help you with this, but their reaction made you more worried.

"What could've possibly triggered Iruma-sama's evil cycle..." Asmodeus muttered to himself.

"Y/N-chi and Iruma-chi must have played all night long and tired themselves out!" Clara hypothesized, now wearing her so-called 'genius glasses' and her silly mustache.

"Silly, Clara! Don't you underestimate his stamina. Plus, an evil cycle is not triggered that easily, especially for someone as majestic as Iruma-sama" Asmodeus removed the glasses out of Clara's face and burned them using his flames.

"Actually, both of you got it right." The man seated beside you, Iruma, joined the conversation.

"Eh?"

"Alice's right on the part that my stamina's amazing."

"Of course! I am Iruma-sama's spear afterall." He said proudly.

"As for Clara, it is true that we had fun all night long, isn't that right, Y/N-chan?" Iruma turned to your direction and gave you a sly smirk, even closing the distance between you two.

Your face immediately heat up, now as red as a tomato. You budged a little in your seat, keeping him at arms length. This is just too much! The butterflies are going crazy in your stomach and you feel like you're going yo faint anytime now. You rested the side of your head on your palm; elbow on top of the table as support. But the purple Iruma's not going to leave you alone, no? He held the hand supporting your head and pulled you back closer to him. Your head now resting on his shoulder, hand in his under the table, and his other hand supporting your head.

"Damn, Iruma-kun's evil cycle is much more intense this time." Lied commented as he eyed the two of you.

The whole abnormal class watching the scene as if it was from a movie doesn't help. You were just about to slip away but his grip on your hand tightened. You glanced at him and he's looking you intently. Although those eyes now look sharper than before, they were still the familiar orbs you love to stare at. You felt his thumb brush over your hand while he held it tightly. You were so overwhelmed with everything going on, triggering your flight response, that's why you tried to get away from him. You thought that he was being a tease, but he was actually trying to be affectionate... in his new, unique way. And with that, you chose to accept defeat. Finally relaxing on your boyfriend's shoulder as your heart rate finally returns back to normal.

"W-What are you guys standing there for? Shoo, you're making my lover uncomfortable." Iruma told the whole class, stammering a little. You raised your head a little to take a look at his face and you noticed that his ears were awfully red.

"Awwww," the whole class cooed. Thankfully, they did leave the two of you alone.

You playfully poked his waist, causing him to flinch. "You're actually flustered with all of this, aren't you?" You teased.

He looked at you for a few seconds before gently pushing your head back on his shoulder. "Just shut up and just rest."

"Okay, if you say so, Iruma-kun~" You giggled. Iruma huffed but there was an evident blush plastered along his cheeks.

[randomyuu]

so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

[andypantsx3]

Deceiving the Duke | 4 | Todoroki Shouto

pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Female Reader

length: 3.1k of 30k words | 4th of 9 chapters

summary: When Camie Utsushimi elopes on the eve of her society debut, scandal threatens to destroy the family’s prospects. It’s up to you, a maid, to impersonate Camie throughout the Season, long enough that her elder sister can make a match. The only trouble? Lord Shouto Todoroki is also intent on making a match—and that match, quite impossibly, appears to involve you.

tags/warnings: romance, regency au, class differences, hidden identity/identity porn, aged up characters, eventual smut

A few weeks on, you received a reply from Camie.

It was a great luck that the Utsushimis employed so few staff, which meant that you were the servant in charge of collecting the post. You imagined Mrs. Utsushimi would have seized on the letter as soon as she caught sight of it.

It was addressed in Camie’s horribly girlish hand, and it opened in the most typical of Camie phrasings.

Y/N, my sweet foolish friend–

Your plot is hilarious but doomed and you should end it sooner rather than later. Mumsy should have never asked you for this, it’s sure to ruin you and ruin her, even if Caroline makes a match.

I would have always taken care of her, and Inasa has promised the same. Of course you will come live with us on Inasa’s estate, too.

You’ll find a way to put a stop to things, won’t you?

She’d signed her name below with an aggressively elaborate flourish, so you knew how upsetting she truly found the news.

Guilt settled in your stomach like a leaden weight.

You shouldn’t have undertaken this plot, obviously. You’d said as much in your original missive to Camie. But now that the scheme was already well underway, you thought it had to be seen through. Otherwise, what had all this been for? The Utsushimi family would be embroiled in scandal with absolutely nothing to show for it. And you doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be so generous with your promised wages, were you to renege on your commitments now.

Carefully folding Camie’s letter and stowing it under your mattress, you decided you’d just have to redouble your efforts. Perhaps you would start accepting dances with gentlemen just to talk Caroline up, and mention her kindly to Miss Uraraka and Lady Asui.

You wished you’d taken the chance to mention her to Lord Shouto, before you’d caused the scene at Lady Cathleen’s party. If he wasn’t actually courting Princess Yaoyorozu, that was, as rumor seemed to suggest.

With a new plan in mind, you started your morning chores, mending the hem of one of Mrs. Utsushimi’s gowns where she’d torn it, starching the linens, picking seams on the latest of Camie’s dresses you planned to wear. You helped the family with breakfast and saw them off to the milliner’s, after which you changed their bedding and washed the old sheets. You were just settling down to get more work done on one of Camie’s gowns when a knock came at the door.

When you pulled it open, you found Lord Shouto on the other side, peering into the dim of the hallway. His mouth parted in surprise to see you, those mismatched eyes going rounder at the corners. You immediately panicked, slamming the door shut on him.

Fuck! You’d been dressed in your maid attire, not expecting the family to receive a caller! Your only grace was that the hall was very dim this time of the morning–you hoped he hadn’t been able to make out your dress in the dark.

“Um!” you called through the door, your voice strangled. “Forgive me, my lord, I am not yet properly attired! I will be right back!”

You dashed up the stairs, grabbing the latest of Camie’s gowns, quickly unlacing your apron and shedding your clothes, then stuffing yourself into the dress. Your fingers scrabbled over all the ties and buttons, shaky with nerves. You were back down the stairs in under two minutes, panting, hoping Lord Shouto wasn’t working himself into a state at being so rudely received.

When you pulled the door open again, however, he was wearing a curious expression. Those eyes picked over you, seeming to note every detail, and you self-consciously tugged at the skirts of your dress. You did not even want to think of the state of your hair.

There was a bouquet of flowers in his hand, sweet purple lilacs decorated with bursts of white clover. You squinted at the flowers, remembering Caroline had told you each had a special meaning, if you knew how to interpret them.

They looked too pretty to be declarations of your idiocy, however, so you guessed they might not be for you.

“I—you must be here to see, um, Caroline?” you asked. “I’m afraid she’s out at the moment–she should be back in a few hours, however–if you want to leave your card…”

Lord Shouto shook his head, stepping forward. “I am here for you.”

Your heart tripped over itself with his proximity, and you backed up a step, leaning back to look into his face. “I–-you are?” you asked stupidly.

The tiniest hint of a smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. “I came to see that you were well, after Lady Cathleen’s.”

Your stomach churned guiltily. That was really too kind, especially considering that you’d done nothing but fling snacks at him, ramble nonsense at him, and then pretended to faint on him. To say nothing of the fact that you were pretending to be an entirely different person than the one you’d introduced yourself as. And here he was, in your doorway still, looking at you carefully, as though he meant to catch you were you to faint again.

Now that he was here, it would not be so easy to refuse him. You backed out of the doorway, gesturing him inside. “Please come in. I can serve tea in the sitting room.”

Lord Shouto inclined his head and followed you inside. You lead him to the parlor, glad you’d neatened it, wondering at your own nerve–a servant, entertaining a duke, in a sitting room that was not her own.

“The maid is, um, indisposed today,” you told him. “I’ll make the tea myself, please make yourself comfortable.”

You left him to his own devices, darting to the kitchen. You’d hoped to run into the cook but she was also apparently out, probably at market, so you threw the kettle on and spent several long minutes rummaging around for the nice tea–-the kind Mrs. Utsushimi only served when she wanted to impress. You figured a duke would definitely meet her criteria for people worth impressing.

When you returned, Lord Shouto had left his flowers laying over the settee. He was at the mantle over the fireplace, glancing through the Utsushimis’ portraits and displayed needlework. That curious look was back on his face when he turned back to you, and his eyes seemed to rove over every inch of your face.

He looked strange, in fact, as though he’d just been confronted with a startling discovery. You flushed under his scrutiny, hoping you hadn’t missed a stain on your dress or some large rip in the fabric.

You hurried to the corner and set the tea tray down on the sideboard. Your skin prickled tellingly as he drew near, and you quickly poured him a cup and ordered him into a chair to get him away from you. You did not understand why his presence made you feel so strange.

You dared to pour yourself a cup of tea, too, and perched on a chair opposite him, luxuriating in how good the tea was compared to your usual fare.

“I, um, appreciate you calling,” you said to him, watching him settle into his chair, and trying not to pay too much attention to the way his thighs filled out his breeches, or the way his shoulders seemed to take up the entire width of the chair back.

Lord Shouto sipped at his tea, humming low in his throat. “Have you recovered, Miss Utsushimi?”

You nodded quickly. “Yes. It was just, um, a passing thing. I am completely fine.”

He looked satisfied, smiling softly into his tea cup. “I am happy to hear it.”

You noticed his lashes left long shadows over the tops of his cheekbones as he drank, and you pinched your leg through your skirts when you realized how deeply undue that observation was.

You quickly cast about for something to take your mind off of the way Lord Shouto looked sitting across from you.

“The flowers are pretty,” you said, glancing over at them. The purple of the lilacs looked especially deep against the lighter fabric of the settee–you wondered what purple lilac was supposed to mean, and which of the Utsushimis they were for.

Lord Shouto had said he was calling on you, but he’d not said the same of the flowers. It would be the height of conceit to think that they were also for you, especially given how completely unhinged you’d been with him to date. A man did not bring flowers to a woman who pelted him with snack cakes.

“Are they–-Caroline’s?” you guessed.

Another threat of a smile pressed at Lord Shouto’s mouth. “You speak as though you’ve never received flowers before.”

That arrested you. What did he mean, you? They were for you? You couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open.

“I–me?” you asked, dumbfounded. “I’ve never—are you certain?”

Lord Shouto’s eyebrows went up, and there was a note of something amused in his deep tone. “I should hope so.”

You left your cup on the table beside you, unable to help the way you were drawn to the flowers. Your first bouquet! And probably your only, considering your prospects and the expense. But they were so lovely, and they smelled so bright and green and fresh.

A weird giddiness came over you, and you tried to squash the feeling down.

“I–Thank you, Lord Shouto,” you said, unable to help the embarrassingly touched note in your voice. “They are beautiful.”

Lord Shouto looked a little bit smug, you thought, as you fingered some of the petals, feeling their silky smoothness on the pads of your fingers. You’d have to put them in water. And maybe hide them in your room, if you got the chance. You doubted Mrs. Utsushimi would be pleased to discover Lord Shouto had brought you flowers, considering you were supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Which you were apparently utterly failing at.

You turned back to Lord Shouto, placing your flowers on the seat next to you, unwilling to be parted from them. It was probably strange, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care quite enough to try to be normal about it all.

“They don’t mean something like learn Greek, do they?” you asked him suspiciously.

Lord Shouto laughed, out loud this time, low and easy, and the sound went straight to your head.

“They do not,” he said, but he did not elaborate on whether they did mean something. You made a note to try and look them up later.

You had the sudden, wild thought that a man bringing a woman flowers meant something more than you were currently accounting for. And it also dawned on you that you were a man and woman alone–-an impropriety by any of good society’s standards, regardless of the fact that your first meeting had been much like this as well.

“Caroline and Mrs. Utsushimi should be back soon,” you blurted out, as if to reassure him that you had no inappropriate designs on him.

Lord Shouto looked unbothered, watching you with those mismatched eyes over the rim of his tea cup. “It does not matter to me. I am not here to see either.”

There was something teasing in his tone that warmed you all the way to your toes, and you had to school your face so as not to betray how much that pleased you.

You tried to remind yourself that he meant nothing by it, and that this could be nothing, in the end. And now was as good a time as any to try and talk Caroline up, now that you had Lord Shouto in your clutches.

“Caroline is good company, it is a loss,” you said. “Have you met her?”

“In passing,” Lord Shouto said. “She’s never flung anything, so I’m afraid she did not make a significant impression on me.”

You laughed. “But a better one, I hope.”

Lord Shouto did not say so.

“You’ll remember how pretty she is, though,” you said insistently. “And she does read Ancient Greek, I think. She’s accomplished on the piano forte.”

“So her hobbies are not so secret as yours?” Lord Shouto asked.

You smiled. “She is rather more accomplished. I must hide my own in order to save myself the embarrassment.”

Lord Shouto leaned forward in interest. “You’ll tell me at least one? You are aware I am a trustworthy secret keeper.”

He looked so earnest, and his tone was so genuine, you couldn’t do anything but give him what he wanted. Much may it please him to learn.

“My chief hobby is reading–though obviously not in any ancient languages. I’m…quite fond of novels, actually.” You were mostly fond of them because Camie was fond of them, and they were the principal artifact she had been able to smuggle you. But you quite liked all the tales of adventure, cunning, and head-spinning romance. The only type of adventure you’d seen thus far was this hare-brained scheme of yours–and it would not end nearly so well as the stories in your novels did.

“I too, enjoy reading,” Lord Shouto obliged you. “Though not usually novels.”

You smiled. “I’ll recommend you some, though I can’t tell if you’d enjoy them. They’re a lot of nonsense.”

“I believe I told you,” Lord Shouto said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on those thighs. “I like nonsense.”

For some reason, your heart did a weird fluttering motion in your chest. Your cheeks heated, and you grasped your tea cup tighter, as if holding on for safety.

“Well, then,” you said. “I’m certain I can oblige you. I’ll send you a list, perhaps.”

Lord Shouto looked pleased, blinking long and slow like a cat in a sunbeam. “I’d quite like that.”

You took another sip of your tea to hide some of your face, trying to reign yourself in. You had not meant for this conversation to turn towards you–Caroline was the objective here. You wracked your brain for another segue back to her.

“I’ll ask Caroline to send along recommendations as well–though they won’t be novels,” you said. “Perhaps something in Greek may tempt you.”

Lord Shouto regarded you curiously. “Your recommendations do not stand on their own?”

You frowned at him defensively. “My recommendations are the finest,” you sniffed.

A tiny smile lifted the corner of his lips, like he’d caught you. “Then I need only accept yours.”

“But really–Caroline–” you started, but Lord Shouto cut you off.

“Miss…Utsushimi,” he said, pausing strangely over the name. “It is not Caroline’s opinions I seek. My attentions are yours, and yours alone.”

You froze, a spear of ice plunging into your heart. His attentions were yours? What could he mean–which attentions, exactly? That sounded quite terribly like an admission of interest–-romantic interest–-except that would be insanity itself.

He was so very noble, and so very handsome, and you were beginning to learn that he was so very kind. You were the most horrible match imaginable for him.

You’d have to make sure he understood it.

“Lord Shouto, you understand I do not mean to marry,” you said, testing the waters.

“You’ve intimated as much,” he replied, his tone low. “Though your reasons…remain a mystery.”

For some reason, his eyes cut back to the mantle, lingering strangely over the Utsushimi family’s portraits.

“I would be a poor choice,” you said. “You understand my shortcomings already.”

Lord Shouto’s features arranged themselves into a mask of polite incredulity. “You think all a man wants in a wife is her knowledge of ancient languages?”

A laugh burst out of you. “In part.”

A tiny smile threatened the corner of Lord Shouto’s mouth again. “I assure you there are other qualities one might desire.”

Yes, like needlework and piano forte and singing and such. Your talents lay elsewhere–and plenty undiscovered.

“I also understand that your hand is all but promised to Princess Momo,” you told him. You hoped he understood what you were implying–whatever attentions he had been referencing, he needn’t lavish them on you.

“Do you?” Lord Shouto said softly.

You nodded earnestly. Lord Shouto looked thoughtful but did not elaborate.

You wondered what he was really doing here, in the Utsushimis’ sitting room. If he meant for you to be a distraction, a shield against the other debutantes while he waited on the princess. Or if he was perhaps open to marriage.

You decided it could not hurt to continue to peddle your Caroline agenda. Whatever Lord Shouto’s reasons, you were not a suitable prospect for him. But if he was open to marriage, Caroline would be a good match.

“Still, I’d like you to meet Caroline,” you said. “I’ll introduce you at the Satos’ dinner next week.”

“If you like,” Lord Shouto said vaguely, but you could tell he had no interest in her. His eyes drifted back to the mantle, roving over the miles of needlework and colorful oils of the portraits.

You sighed, sensing the enormity of the task before you.

After that, Lord Shouto steered the conversation back into calmer waters, trying to ferret out more about you. You managed to turn a great deal of it back on him, learning more about his family. You were surprised to learn he was the baby of his family, as he’d inherited his father’s title.

He told you about his eldest brother, Touya, who’d disowned the family to join some antimonarchist group in the south, and his other brother Natsuo, who’d rejected the title to become a man of the cloth instead. He talked fondly of his mother and his older sister, Fuyumi, who he seemed to visit often.

You liked the way he spoke about the people in his life, with patience and intention—even Touya, who it was clear had bad blood with the rest of the family. You could have listened to him for hours, luxuriating in his low, soft tone, the occasional conspiratorial twitch of his mouth.

He really was unlike anything you’d expected from a duke.

Eventually the tea ran cold, and the real world called back to you both. You saw Lord Shouto to the door with both regrets and a resolution forming in the back of your mind.

Whatever his interest in you, you would redirect it to Caroline, and kill two birds with one stone–Caroline could make her match, and Lord Shouto would be made to see what a pretty, qualified wife could be like. You carefully ignored the large part of you that recoiled at the thought.

It did not matter what you wanted, and you wouldn’t let yourself think on it. Lord Shouto was good, and he should make a suitable match.

You would arrange it so Lord Shouto and Caroline got a happy ending, just like in your novels.

You would make absolutely sure of it.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I AM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR GABRIEL (one of Rory’s characters) PLEASEEEE😭😭😭

It is my pleasure, anonnie 🖤🫶🏻

Crybaby

Summary: Gabriel throws up his meds…again! At first, you think that he’s just sick of them but there’s more to it…

Pairing: virgin!Gabriel x nurse!fem!Reader

Word Count: - 2.8k

Content Warnings: Psych Ward Smut 18+!, Kinda Angsty On Gabe’s Part, Gabe Being A Manipulative Little Shit But He Doesn’t Mean Any Harm He’s Just Delulu, Throwing Up, Crying, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions Of Medication, Mentions Of Gabe’s Shitty Shitty Family, Pet Names, Reader Absolutely Babying Gabe, A Bit Of Hair Pulling, It’s Giving Mommy Vibes Just Saying, An Attempted Handjob, I Put In A Tiny Easter Egg For All My Fellow New Amsterdam Watchers <3

A/N: A massive Thank You! to @spookyorchid for putting the thoughts about virgin Gabe into my head!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess

You're all on your own and

You lost all your friends

You told yourself that

It's not you, it's them

You're one of a kind

And no one understands

But those cry baby tears

Keep coming back again

- Crybaby By Melanie Martinez

Friday, the clock gradually ticked towards 10 P.M.

Nightshift, as per usual. Bleak, cold light against equally pale, white walls. The occasional splatter of random color in the form of a rather contemporary piece of art didn’t exactly help with the eerie atmosphere creeping through Ward 4 like every night after sundown.

With your head looming over an array of documents that were messily scattered across a white-painted desk, you felt your body getting swept by the third Red Bull you’d hammered down about 10 minutes ago, nerve endings buzzing and a stomach twitching in the need to do something, anything but sitting at this damned desk, filling out forms for the dayshift staff. The ballpoint pen between your fingers drew slightly shaky lines as you ticked the boxes for the taken medications after dinner, scribbling down names of substances you could hardly spell out properly even after two years of working here.

The harsh ticking of the clock right behind you, hanging high above locked drawers full of files and pill bottles, echoed in your perked ears, all senses heightened treacherously by the unquestionably unhealthy amount of caffeine rushing through your bloodstream.

You scrunched your nose ever so slightly as the tip of the pen chaffed over the paper, leaving the outlines of the box in a sudden, involuntary jerk of your hand. Footsteps, dull and muffled, nevertheless, still very much audible in your little, open-doored and window-framed bureau.

"My goodness, Gabriel…" You sighed, leaning back and straightening out the wrinkles in your mint-green scrubs before heading out, sliding the ballpoint pen into a little pocket on your chest.

Just like every Friday, Gabe was the only patient left on Ward 4 of the clinic. Everybody else had left for home or wherever after the post-dinner distribution of meds for the residents who needed them. Everybody but poor Gabriel. His family had stopped coming by or god forbid picking him up for the weekends at least 6 months ago. His older brother, Matthew, had stuck to it a little longer than their mother but he, too, eventually had stopped showing his face around here.

Needless to say that it had left Gabriel in absolute shambles. For a long time, it had been nothing but heartbreaking to see how he had gotten his hopes up every Friday after dinner, his bright blue eyes transfixed on the entrance doors, waiting for his brother to waltz in and pick him up to go home, even if it was just for the weekend. However, no one came and with every weekend passing by, Gabe had grown more and more apathetic towards everything and anything surrounding him. You couldn't even blame him…not that you tried to, to begin with, no, you felt wholeheartedly sorry for him. Left behind by his own family just like that. The medical bills were paid and with that, Gabriel was out of their sight and presumably out of their mind, too.

For the first few weeks, Gabe had been acting out on every next-best occasion; food had been thrown, cigarettes flicked into other residents' and staff members' faces until finally, it had calmed down. Now his tantrums were rare and tame compared to the whole storm he used to bring with him. Maybe he'd simply given up on it or therapy was finally doing something for him instead of against him in his already severely fragile state of mind.

Walking along the dimly lit corridor, the nearly sterile clean, unwelcoming linoleum floor squeaking under your trainers, you taunted yourself not to think about it too much because it would only render you sad and sorry for him. Eventually, those thoughts would dig up the pressing need to see Gabe happy for once and those were emotions and wishes you simply had to throw right out of the window whilst working here. You had absolutely no business entertaining personal relations with the residents in here but you sensed an inkling that a part of you was way beyond that already in regards to poor Gabe.

“Hey…Gabe? Are you okay?” You asked through the door before turning the knob to the side to enter.

“Leave me alone!” His sore voice croaked back from the bathroom, the door to it wide open and light emitting from it flooding the rest of the room.

“That’s not exactly what my job requires me to do, Gabe, you know that.” You tried to sound a little humorous about it to take the tension out of the situation.

You knew very well what had happened even before you turned the corner to pass through the doorframe, exhaling a low sigh as you saw Gabe crouching down in front of the toilet bowl.

“Again?” You asked, giving your best to draw any judgment from your tone.

“Hate ‘em.” It blubbered from Gabe’s lips in a choked-back whine.

“I know…I know you don’t like the meds.” In a soothing manner, you sat down next to him on the bathroom tiles, your back leaning against the wall and arms slumped between your slightly parted knees.

“Make me feel drowsy and tired all the time…” Gabe sniffled, wiping his mouth with a scrunched-up ball of toilet paper before tossing it in the bowl.

“I know…” You sighed, turning your face towards him, “But it won’t get any better when you throw them up all the time, no? It’s not good for your throat, your teeth and you're not doing your body any favor with it, angel face.”

Gabriel whirled his head around at the mention of his very own, little pet name you gave him a while ago. It never failed to draw his fickle attention towards you.

“But I hate them…” He groaned, repeating his obvious dislike towards the pills he had to swallow daily.

“Maybe you wouldn’t hate them so much if you gave your body some time to adjust to them, huh? I know they suck, make you tired and give you a bit of a tummy ache from time to time but, you know, I think that maybe your body just needs a while to get used to the medication.” You arched your brows a little, tilting your head to the side with a faint smile ghosting around your mouth.

“Hmm…”, Gabriel pouted at you, his bright blue eyes covered with a watery sheen, indicating that he wasn’t far from spilling tears, “‘m not gonna take them, no, nuh-uh, never.”

“C’mon now, I know you can be a good boy tomorrow, no? Just try it. Two weeks tops and you’ll feel better.” Trying to convince him would take a good while but it wasn’t entirely impossible.

“No.” He stated bluntly, his chin lowering towards his chest as the first droplets gushed over his lower lashline.

“It’s okay, Gabe, it’s okay…come here.” Against all rules and guidelines, you raised your arm and offered Gabriel to crawl into a tender embrace.

He sobbed quietly as he shoved his face against your chest, a wash of new tears soaking into your scrubs, rendering the mint-green darker.

“I’m sure you can do that, Gabe. I promise to be with you on the weekends like always, yeah?” You tried to soothe him, your arm wrapped around his shaking statue for your fingers to play with the hairs falling down to the nape of his neck.

“You…you’re..”, He tried to catch his jittery breath, “Y-You’re the only one who’s here for me. Everybody else just hates me. I know they do!”

At his words your stomach dropped, twisting and coiling in a surge of painful compassion for the hurt Gabriel was in. You knew it all too well yourself.

“Don’t say that, Gabe. I don’t think anybody here hates you. Just the other day Rose and Henry asked you if you want to play cards with them, remember?” Trying to guide him to do the same, you allowed your body to relax against his, your angled knees stretching out over the bathroom tiles.

“But only because Dr. Frome made them ask me…” Gabe blubbered against your collarbone, taking your new position as an opportunity to sneak himself right onto your lap, his fingers clawing at your sides.

“Gabe, hey…”, You tried to admonish not only him but yourself as well that he was clearly crossing a boundary here, “Angel face, you can’t do that, please.”

“Hmhmmm…”, He whined, slightly pressing his front against your chest, nuzzling his forehead into the crook of your neck, strands of his hair brushing over your skin, “Please, just for a moment. N-nobody here hugs me...ever.”

With a slightly choked-back sigh, you gave in to his plea to be held for a moment. You knew that the two of you were the only ones left on Ward 4 and that wouldn’t change until Monday morning. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to comfort Gabriel in a way he craved while nobody else was watching.

“Only if you are honest with me for a moment, Gabe.” You squinted down at his face, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you saw that he had his eyes closed, features all relaxed and calm while the last few tears trickled over his slightly blushed cheek.

“Uh-huh…” He hummed quietly.

“I have the feeling there might be another reason for you throwing up your meds, angel face…” You proposed, watching his expression change ever so slightly. Caught.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel tried to act innocent.

“I think you know just fine what I mean, Gabe, don’t you?” To coax the answer out of him, your fingers crept into the thick of his hair from his neck on upwards, tugging a bit more vigorously at a few strands.

“Hmhmm, h-hey…” It fell from his lips as something in between a whine and a bashful moan.

“Oh... “ You actively forgot yourself for a moment and pulled at his hair again to make Gabe squeak out once more.

“Mmmm…wanted your attention.” He confessed eventually, hiding his increasingly blushing face in the curve of your shoulder where the tip of his nose grazed right over your pulse point.

“See? Good boy.” You stopped tugging but left your fingers to brush through his soft hair repeatedly.

“Am I?” His warm breath gingerly blew over your exposed skin, sending a wave of treacherous goosebumps all over your chest, causing your nipples to perk up against the inside of your bra.

“Yes, most of the time you are.”; You led your eyes to wander from his face over his striped shirt down to his checkered shorts, a visible bulge pushing against the fabric, “But you’d be an even better boy for me if you’d take your meds, yeah? Do you think you can do that for me tomorrow, Gabe?”

“Maybe…”, He reluctantly started agreeing, “I can try…”

“That’s a start.”, You cooed into the crown of his head, desperately holding on to your reason to not get horribly side-tracked by Gabe’s openly showing arousal, “And when you want my attention you know where to find me, no? Just come and talk to me next time, yeah?”

One part of you felt terribly sorry for him as an individual whereas the other part pitied him for being a man in his early twenties, stuck in a psych ward with little to no privacy. You knew just all too well that there wasn’t much to do around besides playing cards, smoking an ungodly amount of cigarettes out of boredom, or jerking off given the next best opportunity to and you’d lie if you said that you hadn’t noticed it before…haven’t heard him getting off as you walked through the ward on patrol.

“I don’t mean it like that…” A new flush of red surged into his cheeks.

“Huh?” Before you even had so much as the chance to utter a fully formed question, Gabriel’s lips were on your jaw, softly pressing into your skin in an almost shy peck that sent your senses grasping for better judgment.

He did it again, his soft lips creeping closer towards yours this time.

“Mmmm…w-want your attention like that. Do you like that?” He quipped, his mouth latching on to the corner of your mouth curiously.

“No, Gabe, stop!” You forced yourself to pull your head away from him, looking at him with wide eyes as his glacier-blue stared right back.

“No?” He winced, his voice oozing with emotional hurt.

“Sorry, angel face, I’m so sorry. Yes, yes, I do like that very much but we can’t, do you understand that? I’ll get fired when someone finds out, Gabe.” It rambled out of your mouth, mind and body fighting for the high ground right now.

“Well, nobody has to find out, duh.” His brows furrowed, a dead-pan expression on his face as if your worries were the most unreasonable he’d ever heard.

“Gabe…listen.” He made you shut up by raising one hand to his mouth, imitating the motion of turning a key in a lock before tossing the key.

“ ‘M not gonna say anything, I promise, I’m going to be a good boy.” Hearing him talk to you like that, the pleading and begging in his eyes beaming right at you nearly threatened to kill you on the spot.

“Gabe..” Repeating his name in a weak attempt to pull yourself together did absolutely nothing, instead, the young man sitting all curled up in your lap leaned in to press a daring kiss directly to your lips this time.

“Please…”, He practically moaned into your slightly agape mouth, craving, “Had nobody to do all that with before.”

“No one?” You looked at him, an awkward sense of morally gray compassion mixed into your own arousal.

“Nuh-uh.” Gabriel shook his head softly, his eyes glued to your lips.

For a split second, you pondered, heavy thoughts racing through your mind like bullets until one hit the control panel, causing a collateral shutdown.

“Fuck it, come here.” Your own breath hitched as your hand reached out to cradle his face gently, pulling his head toward yours until you were the one to kiss him.

Gabriel’s little mewls and moans filled your ears whilst your other hand brushed down his chest, across the waistband of his shorts, your palm teasingly brushing over his hard cock that was straining against the fabric heavily.

“Do that again..please…” He whined into the kiss, hips squirming to get another touch of your hand against his hard-on.

“Ask nicely, Gabe.” You instructed him, feeling a certain wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please touch me there again..”, Gabriel’s voice broke as he tried to stutter a plea, “P-pretty please!”

It nearly knocked the air from your lungs and you felt the intoxication flood your bloodstream as you granted him his wish, now stroking over his clothed cock with the full length of your hand, fingers tracing the silhouette.

“Hmm…feels so fucking good, please don’t stop.” After breaking from the kiss, he nuzzled his face back into the crook of your neck, his shallow breaths hitting your jaw at a desperate, needy pace.

“Didn’t plan to, don’t worry.”, You planted a quick smooch on his temple, feeling like you were about to lose your mind over him, “My goodness, you’re so hard right now, aren’t you, Gabe?”

“Uh-huh, f-feels so good already.” It sounded as if he was about to start crying again, this time out of newly found pleasures.

“Fuck, ah…no. Shit.” The words rambled out of Gabriel’s mouth and felt immediately why.

His hip rocked and quivered against the palm of your hand, his entire body grew tense as he clawed at your scrubs whilst a puddle of wet soaked through his shorts, his cock pulsing and throbbing underneath.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. You’ll last a little longer next time.” You clutched his trembling torso against you, peppering his forehead with quick kisses, your heart hammering against your ribcage as a sense of realization started to dawn on you.

“Next time?” Gabriel hummed, a curious tone in his voice.

“We have the entire weekend now, don’t we?”

[emsprovisions]

Hi y'all! I read so many Tarlos fics this past month so I wanted to do a little highlight of some of my favorites! It was honestly very hard to narrow down the one shots but I tried 😂

Oneshots

Rain on Me by @ironheartwriter Rating: Explicit Word count: 6,622 Why I liked it: Lana has become such a dear friend in such a short time and I said one little thing in a tumblr ask response and something like two days later she busted out 6k words of pure magic! I love this fic, it's so sweet. We get to see our boys have some downtime to themselves and they truly truly deserve it!

breathing deeper than i've ever done by @your-catfish-friend Rating: Explicit Word count: 4,693 Why I liked it: This fic is so hot! This fic is heavy on senses, particularly the sense of smell. There's a part towards the end that really makes me insane where TK and Carlos are taking a shower together and it smells like "TK-and-Carlos" which makes me insane because they really are One.

Butterflies and Sky-High by @paperstorm Rating: Teen and up Word count: 8,031 Why I liked it: Demi!Carlos my beloved. I strongly subscribe to this headcanon and Andie, as always, you have executed it so beautifully! I loved this exploration of Carlos's labels, his spiral, his conversation with Paul, how he finally talked to TK about how he feels, it was all so beautiful.

This is The Sound of You Here and Now by @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut Rating: Mature Word count: 3,040 Why I liked it: I was sick with a cold and asked for sick fics of my boys to get me through those trying times. J, thank you so much for delivering! This was beautiful and genuinely it made me cry. I love how they take care of and love each other.

Long fics

Right Before Your Eyes by Goody Rating: Teen and up Word count: 19,894 Why I liked it: This one is so much fun! It feels like watching an episode, it is that realistic. Your characterization was amazing! Also poor TK, he suffers so much already and we just put him through more! But this was still really good! (and if anyone knows their tumblr, please let me know so I can properly tag them!)

to build a home by @freneticfloetry Rating: Explicit Word count: 63,872 Why I liked it: I don't think I will ever recover from the feels this one gave me. I love Carlos exploration fics. I love how well the angst was balanced with fluff and spicier scenes! I'm working on a wip rn that has definitely been influenced by the layout and flow of this gorgeous fic. It's melancholic in the best way, beautiful, and true to character. I won't stop thinking about it any time soon.

Series

Missing Moments by @paperstorm Works: 34 Complete: no Why I liked it: special shoutout to the fic from this series, Homeward Bound because I think about it often. I really, really love this series. Sometimes I confuse details from canon with details from these fics because they feel so canon to me. We needed the background scenes and you have more than delivered, Andie! Love this series so much and I can't wait to see what you do with the rest!

wherever you stray, I follow by @strandnreyes Works: 2 Complete: no Why I liked it: My latest obsession is this series. TK and Carlos are soulmates and now they get to live for eternity. Sometimes it's a bit bittersweet, especially in the second part, when Carlos thinks about all the changes that will happen to them someday, but they have each other and all the love and time in the world and it is beautiful. I love the setting, I love author Carlos, and I love how you adapted all the other characters and how seamlessly they fit into their roles in Castine. This au is gorgeous and I found myself wishing I didn't have to leave that world so soon. I can't wait for the next installment! I am excited to see where you might take it.

[phanhlee]

(I'm gonna tell more about him, cause' I'm bored as shit. This is something that I wrote out of nowhere so the writing is...)

Tag: Claude Frollo x Helzon Sullivan (male!OC)

---------------------------------

Helzon Sullivan is a 130-year-old immortal monster, a nãga (those have human torso but serpent thick tail) that cursed by both demons and angels.

He was raised by his mother, who was a beautiful woman but work as a prostitute of the brothel. She met Helzon's father in workplace, who is a Greek demon in disguise. He bought her, took her to Greece and treated her like a goddess. However, when he found out she was pregnant, he kicked her out because he thought...human can't carry a devil's child.

Helzon's mother left him when he was ten. She jumped down into a river and let the water brought her to the love of her life...in hell. The poor child is left to live alone, suffering the devil blood in his veins.

Helzon can't die, or sleep properly. The only time he can experience sleep is when he turns back into his true form during the "heat period" every 100 days.

His normal form is a gorgeous tall man (1m89) with a pair of special silver eyes, taken from his devil father, and dark hair to shoulder level. However, this is just a "borrowed" body, his real form is very much different.

Helzon's real form is a giant nãga with pure black skin and long white hair (No detail yet) and he has tentacles (because I like them)

Helzon's nature is a calm, unbothered man. He can be kind when he want to, and cruel when it's necessary. He won't intervene when Claude catches the Gypsy "criminals" but will take an arrow for anyone who is near.

Helzon is sometimes very cold, but he is polite nonetheless. He would wish Claude a good day even when the judge just slaps him across his face and puches him.

He will respect people's admiration for him and treat them kindly, but won't give them hope. His usual excuses are "Being with me only brings you misery" "I am a boring man" "You won't say that after seeing the true me" and bla bla.

However, Helzon never broke his promises. He would help anyone if they asked him properly, and kill a person at the same time. Even in his human form, Helzon has such inhuman strength, and his wounds would leave no scar after he changed back to Nãga form.

Helzon has a soft spot for children, and the crying stuffs (which Claude did use to seduce him). He also has a high sense of sympathy, especially for the women in the brothel, because they remind him of his mother. He loves his mother.

-------------------------------------

Helzon arrived at Paris as a free soldier, had a nice cozy home and a job that demanding him to leave home for long trips.

His life changed when he met that cruel judge Claude Frollo, who has had an obsession with Helzon since their first encounter on the streets.

He completely ignores Claude at first, despite the judge continuously stalking and cursing him. Helzon puts the words and actions out of his mind, and of course, that irritated Claude like hell burning along his veins.

People know Claude Frollo. If he wanted something, he would kill to get it. Eventually, Claude accused Helzon of a crime that he didn't commit and put him into jail.

However, Helzon never gave in to Claude's pleasure. He stayed in the jail, being beat and tortured by the soldiers, yet, never complaint.

Until one day, Claude decided that he would get Helzon out of his cell, only if Helzon agreed to be his servant, his dog. He wasn't asking though, Helzon obviously had no choice.

In this time, the two lived together in Claude's palace. They ate together, read together... And sometimes, Claude would have some tricks to get into Helzon's bathtub or his bed.

Yet, all of those attempts couldn't make Helzon give up his believes that Claude would leave him after viewing his true form. So, the man closes his heart even tighter despite all the judge's efforts....

------------------------------

That's the part 1!

The story line is just the summarized one. There are many interesting and funny stories when Claude denied his own obsession and feelings, yet went after Helzon anyway :) Claude's harsh journey to find the happiness like the first picture is still long...

[sofasoap]

Love at first sight - life and death

Pairing: Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra x F!reader ( aka Mini MacTavish)

Summary: Life doesn't always play a fair game. Takes place after Epilogue of the main series.

Part I, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5,Part 6,Epilogue

Warning: M Rating. inaccuracies to medical and military related. discussion of injuries. ANGST.

A/N: Thanks @gamergirlbones helping me with Spanish phrases. and to @siilvan for putting up with me for breaking her heart. not beta nor properly proofread. sorry.

Part of RUDY FEST fic. Thank you @glitterypirateduck the wonderful CoD fanfic and fanart curator for organising another festival :D you are awesome. Prompt used: I'm not leaving you, You have to leave, your life's in danger

masterlist

How ironic. 

The rescuer needs to be rescued. 

Your ears are ringing, vision blurred with all the dust in the air. Without looking down, you know you are bleeding out. 

Slowly turning towards your left, you can see two of your fellow medics lying motionless on the ground. 

Are they still alive? If not… 

Who are their next of kin? Oh, you need to retrieve their dog tags. The paper work.. 

Ouch. Why does it hurt so much? That’s right.. You are injured. But where?  

“MINI! Stay with me!” 

You know that voice. But where is he? 

“Oh, hello love. There you are.” you replied, blinking your eyes a few times, trying to flush out the blood that is currently blurring your vision. Finally you spotted the owner of the voice.“ You shouldn’t be here.It’s not safe.” Bit of deja vu? Last time this happened, you were the one who was on the other side, trying frantically to save Rudy’s life. How the tables have turned. 

“I am not leaving you.” Rudy replied adamantly, with a hint of panic as his eyes scanned your body, and the surroundings. “You are going to be ok, cariño, I promise. Stay with me. Please.” he pleaded as he started to open his emergency med kit, doing whatever he can to save his love from dying in front of him. 

“Go. Don’t worry about me.” You tried to lift your arm, but you couldn’t. That’s when you notice half of your body and arm are pinned underneath the boulder and debris. 

“Oh.That’s not good.” you try to laugh, but all you could manage was a shuddered breath. “You muppet, of course it’s not good.” A lower, grumpier voice joined in. “How can you still be laughing in this situation?” 

“Oh, hello,Captain.” You slurred. It’s harder and harder to keep your speech and head straight. “You have to leave, your life's in danger. Take that man with you too, while you are there.” you jerked your head towards Rudy, who is currently radioing for medevac, causing a pounding headache. Everything is starting to hurt. It’s getting so hard to breathe. You thought. 

“Tell Soap and the team I love them…” you wheezed as you tried to convey your last messages to Price. “Tell Soap I’m sorry I ate his chocolate cookies….” “Stop giving out your last words. Medevac is on their way.” he reassures you, or is he trying to reassure himself? The sadness you can see through his eyes, you know you are probably not going to get out of this. 

“What.. is.. them…are my teammates ok?” you look at the two bodies again, worrying. “We can’t lose those two.. They are the best we got…” tears start to flow out. They are your brother and sister in arms, three of you have been through countless life and death situations. Is this where the three of you will partway?

“They are still breathing, last time we checked. We don’t want to move them. Worry about yourself first, cariño. Just concentrate on your breathing.” Rudy replied as he caressed your hair, soothing you. You always love his hand, how calming it is, how safe it makes you feel. 

“Oh good.” you slowly close your eyes. At least someone will stay alive today. 

“Come on, keep your eyes open for me, cariño, talk to me.” Rudy’s voice is getting desperate, trying to keep you awake until the medevac arrives. The help just doesn’t seem to come fast enough. He can’t lose you. Not here, not now, not for another long time to come.

“Hey Rudy.” “Yes love.”

“Do you remember the day we first met?”

“Of course cariño. How could I forget?”

“Hey Rudy.”

“Yes mi vida.”

“You love me??”

“Of course.Mi corazón late por ti”.

“....”

“Cariño?”  

The last thing you heard before you sank into the complete darkness was the anguish cry of Rudy, screaming out for you. 

Mi corazón late por ti : My heart beats for you.

NOTE: Sorry it's a short one. I am just so tired from work conferences and travelling. part 2 might not come out in time for end of Rudy fest :(

Tag list :

@jynxmirage, @siilvan

@glitterypirateduck, @homicidal-slvt

@sprout-fics @cumikering @preciouslittlecreature @crazymela

@liyanahelena @abbeyrjm-blog @alypink @devcica @nrdmssgs

@okayyadriana @caramlizedtomatoes @random-thot-generator @random0lover

@iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface

@nightingal3-tales, @deakyspuff

@deadbranch, @roosterr, @gamergirlbones, @b1rds3ye, @writeforfandoms @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @onewattson6529

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

Flinch

@jade-flower-stories asked: Sorry I it Connelly slipped my mind but the abused reader one. Where they accidently raised their voice/hit her. And thbak you so much this means a lot to me. ♡

------

Hello and thank you for requesting with us! I am so sorry this took solong to get out, I do hope you enjoy these hcs! If you want to read the other abused hcs for Nishi and Kuroo, Click here!

Tags and warnings: Mild ptsd, outburts, mentions of past abuse

>Admin T

-------

Tsukishima --

He was exceptionally irritated that day and wanted nothing to do with anybody, even you.

Unfortunately, you didn't notice his attitude, you were too excited to see him first thing.

His headphones were on, so he didn't notice you calling out to him, no matter how often you did.

That's when you decided to play a little prank and take his headphones off, and keep them from him.

Only, it didn't end so well.

Right as you grab the headphones, ripping them off his head, Tsukishima - with gritted teeth - took them back and growled, "god why are you so fucking annoying all the time?"

You were instnatly pulled back into your childhood of your mother saying those exact words to you, everyday of you young life.

Instantly, tears started to flow, and Tsukishima was surprised at you, and himself.

"No, I'm- it-"

He didn't know how to properly apologize, never been in this situation before.

So, if words couldn't come out, he decided actions will do.

He hugged tightly, and stroked the top of your head. Once you had settled down, he muttered into your hair, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry."

He didn't excuse himself, but he did apologize profusely, and for that, you were gratefu.

Oikawa --

He was talking to other girls again. and you knew he was just a natural flirt, and that the conversations never evolve into anything, since he was dating you.

But you couldn't help but be jealous, the tainted feeling clawing up your throat, making you want to scream. He was too close to her, she was touching him too much.

You couldn't handle it anymore, and walked up to the both of them, stealing him away from the stranger.

"What the hell you are you doing?!" he yelled, slapping your hand away from his. You experience you anger, and he scoffs.

"You always do this, you always flirt with other--"

"Would you stop being a jealous bitch for two seconds!" he yelled, but instantly regretting it.

You were shaking from head to toe, tears building up in your eyes as you stared him down, memories of your past flashing your mind.

Memories Oikawa knew of, which made it all the more horrible.

Oikawa sighed, raking his hand through his hair, knowing he fucked up bad.

"I am sorry," he muttered. "You're right, I should reel it in some. And I shouldn't have said that to you. I'm sorry."

You sat down next to him, taking his hand in yours, sniffling. "Jackass."

"I deserve that."

Kenma--

He wasn't giving you any attention, at all, since a new game came out.

You gave him three days. Three freaking days too binge this new game of his, and yet, there he was. In his room, in the dark, still playing it.

You turned on the lights, and confronted him. "Kenma, come on, you've been cooped up in here for almost a week. Let's go out."

He didn't budge, making you more angry, so you stood in front of him.

"Get out of the way!"

"No, not until you put that away and talk to me!"

Kenma tried to look around you, but ultimately he couldn't see, and so his character died. Kenma slumped in his bed from the shock before getting inexplicably angry at you.

"Look at what you did!" he exclaimed, face red.

"It' just a game--"

"A game I have been working for hours! And you made me lose!" Kenma raised his hand, intent on hitting you, though his mind wasn't keeping up with his actions.

That is, until he saw you flinch harshly, keeping your face covered by your arms. Kenma stopped himself, shocked at how easily it was for you to get into that defensive position, and slowly lowered his hand as he set down the controller.

He walked past you, and turned off his console.

Taking you by the hand he muttered, "Let's go get some ice cream or something."

You nodded, threading your fingers with his, accepting his roundabout apology.

[velvethopewrites]

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro.  There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate. 

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once.  As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle. 

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy.  They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow.  Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…”  Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah) 

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

[goron-king-darunia]

Eggtober 12th 2023

"Forbidden": Fried Eggs and Bacon

(Clip Studio Paint, Gouache Brush, Dry Gouache Brush, Gouache Blender, and some Pencil Brush details. Labor of love, however many colors, 2 hours.)

If you guess the source before you see the speedpaint, then I did it correctly. ;D

@lady-quen's breadbugs will have to wait for the fire to die down before they can snatch an eggy or two. And tagging @quezify, the, ahem, Wizard of Fried Eggs.

(This time I am not forgetting the speedpaint! Look at all those beginning details that end up hidden. XD

In other news, fire is hard to draw. I will have to do a study of it. Last time I drew fire it was for the background of my current icon and I used a method that would not work for this piece.

The reflection in the pan was hard too, the fan art I was referencing did is so perfectly. I'll have to study it further to properly do it justice.

I was going to use the grid method to make a more perfect study, but honestly it would have taken way longer and put way too much stress on it for me, I think, trying to get it perfect. Especially trying to put eyes on Calcifer. So it's all freehand and all eyeballed so you can see the pan is a little wonky. Also I couldn't find a good reference for the log-holder/grating in the hearth and I wasn't gonna pull out my DVD and get sidetracked for an hour for that one detail. So yeah, that part is just... being cleaned by Sophie. Or Howl disappeared it from the frame.

Anyway, 10/10, Ghibli really knows how to make food look ethereal and perfect and otherworldly and I hope I captured that with the unrealistically red bacon because yeah, I want to eat it even more when it's bright red for some reason... I was going to try to fit in a slice of bread and bowl of tea (That IS tea, right?) but didn't have a good place composition-wise to put it.

I wanted to do this piece last year but I decided that I would save it for a potential "film only" eggs ensemble, but couldn't resist this year. The pull was too strong. Besides, if I do more eggs from movies and TV, then I can always make a collection of them later.

Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys! And this time I made SURE not to forget the speedpaint! The file is too beefy for me to share on discord with friends, so I'm happy Tumblr can accept my hefty chunky speedpaint file!

[heyjude19-writing]

I have not been an active participant in the Harry Potter fandom in a very long time and it's just recently that a coworker of mine suggested that I give Dramione fics a try.

Her suggesting was both a blessing and a curse—ever since I started looking into Dramione, I've found more than a handful of fics that I absolutely loved, Remain Nameless being one of them. Of course, I've done nothing but devour fanfics in my free time ever since, placing other hobbies and social outings on hold. I can't say I regret it much, though my sleeping schedule took quite a hit as well :')

I'd like to start by telling you how much I enjoyed the plot for Remain Nameless. I never was a fan of slow burns before, but it might seem like aging has mellowed me out quite a bit. It's either that, or the fact that I've been feeling like time just flew by lately (to be completely honest ever since the pandemic it feels like every time I blinked, another year passed by), and I desperately want things to slow down a bit, just so I can enjoy them properly—both in my life and in my reading.

There are plenty of stories about Draco and Hermione and them falling in love, but this one is definitely a favourite. I loved how the accent was placed on them and their evolution as people and their journey as lovers.

It was heartwarming to see Draco's transformation throughout the story and each interaction between these two characters, especially the initial ones at the coffee shop, brought me such joy.

The pacing of their friendship and then romantic relationship felt so natural, and I couldn't help but sit at the edge of my seat, waiting with baited breath to see if things are going to turn out well for our main couple (even though I knew it would be a happy ending, according to the tags :') )

Also, the characters that made an appearance fleshed out the story wonderfully. I'd like to say that the moments including Ginny, Theo and Sasha were some of my favourites, but then again, can I really have favourites when I loved each chapter so much?

The familial relationships were also points of great interest for me. I enjoyed seeing how Hermione interacted with her parents after everything that happened and her relationship with the Weasley members really warmed up my heart. The acceptance of Draco into Hermione's friend and family circles was also quite emotional for me, since he went through such complex experiences with his own parents and friends.

The writing was also marvelous and it really captured me, though I feel like I couldn't fully appreciate it since my eyes were flying over the words to know what happens next. I would love to pick up this fanfiction again for another read, just so I can fully appreciate the craftsmanship that was put into it.

Honestly, being reintroduced into this fandom reminded me why I love fandom and fanfiction so much. Sure, there might be people who sully the experience with their greed and pettiness (I've read a bit about those people what bind your fics and sell them on etsy and I recall reading an AN of somebody reposting your work on Wattpad and I'm so sorry that these things happened/are happening to you and many other fantastic writers) but it can also bring people together and be such a great source of comfort.

I apologize for the long message, I feel like I rambled quite a bit. I know there's much more that I would have loved to say, but words seem to evade me today. But I would like to thank you again for putting in so much of your time, effort, love, and passion into writing this wonderful piece of fanfiction and for sharing it with us.

This story made me giggle, it made me cry, and it made me feel so many emotions, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for it.

hello hello!

wow, thank you so much to your co-worker, this was lovely to receive. sorry about the sleepless nights 😅 but i am happy you enjoyed your time with my story and other fics.

and yes, there's some bad actors out here making fandom a not-so-fun place at the moment, but as you rightly noted "it can also bring people together and be such a great source of comfort." It's certainly why i stick around and thank you for this beautiful message that reminded me why i've loved my time here. your kind comments about my writing brought me so much joy, thank you 🥰