#my notebook is old and trying its best

[kyo-hiki]

besties 💕

[toxooz]

omg i literally love wheelbitten as a comic and ur art is amazing

random question but how long have u been drawing as an artist and do u have advice.............

thank uuuu and I've been drawin my ass off since I could hold a pencil and I'm 24 (25 next month) now so this shit wasn't overnight by any means lmfao idk the way i did it was have A Thing that you like drawing and just draw the fuck outa it and eventually you'll get better for sure whether it be the desire to get better at drawing said thing makes you do research and study something to become better at it or just literal muscle memory from drawing said thing so much. I had lil spouts of taking time to get better at specific things like anatomy, shading, ect. by studying it but overall i just subconsciously got better by mentally picking up new things everytime i draw and analyzing the world around me. Even recently i got to see that with drawing tactical gear (that ive never really drawn before and never wanted to draw in my life) soley bc i just REALLY fukkin love Ghost and Konig

i went from being terrified and intimidated of drawing tactical gear (even trying to put a gun in front of it as if that was any better lmfao) it used to be vague as hell and my brain would shut down just trying to look at the references(i remember having a ''shit man am i even gunna be able to draw these characters???'' moment of dread the first time i was drawing Konig pffft) to absolutely loving drawing tactical gear and seeing how much more detailed i can make it with every new drawing, so a complete 180 but that's bc im just totally obsessed with the characters and drawing is how i express that sO thats mainly what i mean by just have a thing that you love and want to draw and the rest should follow with time, patience, and practice. I think it's about training your brain and motivation to pick up on details or a certain way something looks in lighting (or lack thereof) bc my brain is probably wired a certain way after art being like a centerpiece of my development to the point to where drawing is just What I Do and at this point if i dont draw for even a few days i start getting vaguely antsy and fidgety it's crazy lmfao SO idk if this is worded like i need it to but yeah art and the act of drawing can be frustrating as hell but it should be enjoyable and rewarding above all else at the end of the day!

[kenntolog]

Hihi!! I wanted to ask if you could do loser gf making cool bf sukuna watch some sobby romance movie like the notebook and then cries all dramatically<3

𝝑𝝔 an: i have 1 or 2 more old reqs that i gotta complete but i literally have so much work to do its crazy ugh. read more about cool bf sukuna x loser gf reader here!! also pls read the info before requesting, it’s important u do!!

“sukunaa!”

“stop whining, we’re watchin’ what i want.”

“but we’re always watching what you want!”

“‘s ‘cause your movies suck, loser.”

you turn away from him with a pout, crossing your arms over your chest a bit childishly, before moving to slip from the bed and leave the room. sukuna’s arm his quick enough to wrap around your middle and tug you back into the bed, hand ruffling the hair on top of your head roughly until you’re whining for him to let go.

“why can’t we watch my movie?” you turn in your place, resting your body on his as you look up at him like a child reasoning with his parents.

“i don’t wanna watch your sappy romance shit.”

“i suggested ‘mission: impossible’ last time and you still said no!”

“you annoyed me, that’s why.”

you slap his chest, but quickly change your tactic; hands moving to cup his cheeks gently while you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“please, ‘kuna~”

and if usually sukuna is pretty immune to your begging and whining and the methods you use to manipulate him(barely work by the way), this time it’s just so hard to say no to that cute face of yours. brows pinched upwards, eyes all big and glistening, pouty lips jutting out and cheeks puffed a little bit — he is in a good mood so he just can’t ignore it.

he sighs heavily, cursing under his breath, and you attack him with short kisses all over his face, knowing it’s a yes. you don’t point out how he’s trying to suppress his fond smile, jumping out of the bed to get your laptop and put on a movie.

sukuna’s so annoying about it though, literally shitting on your movie of choice — the notebook, by the way. rolling his eyes whenever something sweet happens, imitating vomiting, cursing the characters’ ‘idiotism’, making fun of the way they talk and act, but you just ignore him, too indulged in the atmosphere of the movie and the plot, even though you’ve watched it a couple of times before.

but at some point you notice sukuna getting quiet. you don’t really pay him any mind, thinking he’s just scrolling through his phone instead, eyes trained on the laptop’s screen as you enjoy the movie.

and then, when it’s nearing the end of it you hear sniffling from above your head, where it’s resting on his chest. you try to lift it so you can look at him, but suddenly he pushes your head down with his palm on top of it, not letting you move anywhere.

“‘kuna~ let go—”

you pinch his side as rough as you can and he flinches from the sudden pain, cursing as you quickly scan over his face and your eyes widen in realisation. face a little red, with tear stains runnind down his cheeks and eyes with blown capillaries and fat tears barely hanging on their waterline.

he notices that you noticed, shutting the laptop closed and standing to leave the room with you hot on his trail.

“no way— are you really crying, ‘kuna?”

“no,” he clears his throat as if you won’t notice his voice breaking a little. “you’re delusional.”

“am not! you are crying!”

he hisses at you over his shoulders while you laugh gleefully, an adoring smile plastered over your face, “i’m gonna kill you.”

sukuna opens your fridge, bending down as he makes himself busy, but you don’t let it go as you lean onto him, hanging off his arm with a cheeky smile. he just shoves your face away gently, expression now angry, and leaves the kitchen, ignoring you completely.

you add sukuna crying over ‘the notebook’ to the list of cutest things you’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t need to know that.

[becomingthatgirl111]

organize your week like this to be closer to the best version of yourself

i interpret the process of becoming our best version as climbing a ladder, on each step, we learn something new that serves us, and the next we complement it with something new, and so on until we reach the end and after many small habits we have become that version we wanted to be. little by little we are learning and although sometimes it is complicated to climb because of the adversities that may arise we can always take up the path again and put into practice what we have learned. that said, today i want to share a method that i have created to organize our habits and thus fulfill them more effectively and feel motivated. in this post i will only present some examples, you have to apply it to your own situation and my recommendation is to start now even with small habits that will be the ones that will lead you to success. i recommend that you try it for this week and write down your results, if it has worked for you keep using this "organization method" and adding new habits or increasing its time.

organize by categories.

create groups to categorize the habits you want to implement in your life, for example like this (the habits are examples, use your own)

🌿 health (body and nutrition)

10 minutes of exercise every day

30 minutes of walking every day

drink a lot more water

start eating consciously

one self-care day a week, for example on friday. we can take this day more relaxed and take more care of ourselves, dedicate more time to our personal and mental care.

do massage with the quartz roller and gua sha

make an appointment for nails, hairdresser, spa, eyelashes or even go to a coffee shop with yourself.

use a face mask and hair mask

🌿 personal growth

read 10 pages a day

listen to personal growth podcasts or audiobooks (choose one and listen to it all week long)

choose an affirmation and write it down every day

record in a diary or an app your mood and what you did during the day.

create a to-do list of what you will do for the day (the night before)

choose a video of affirmations and listen to it every day at a time that suits you best

🌿 studies

study about what you are studying or training for.

dedicate e.g. 20-30 minutes each day to study or review.

study a new language, 15 minutes a day, 5 days a week.

🌿 hobbies

1 - 2 hours to what you enjoy doing (depends on the day and your schedule)

you can write down in a notebook the groups you want to choose for yourself and then the habits you are going to implement, even if they are very small, for example 5 minutes of daily exercise, that is a good start.

to stay focused and not fall into old habits we can also replace the old habits with new ones that we want to implement in this way.

old habit: too much time on instagram new habit: reading or listening to an audiobook while i take a walk. or even just 15 minutes of social media a day.

other examples:

drinking soda or alcoholic beverages > drinking a lot more water and starting to drink natural juices.

watch a lot of series on netflix (or any streaming platform) > read or listen to podcasts/audiobooks that nourish my mind.

overthinking, worrying > meditating for about 5 minutes

lying in bed without doing anything > organizing my room

think in negative > think about the things you would like to happen to you

other tips to connect with your best version

write in your diary how you would act, be and what habits your best version would have. this will give you clarity about what you want and you will feel closer to that because you will know how to act.

establish small habits to start with and take it as a kind of game or test during this week. don't push yourself too hard.

at times when you don't know how to act or react, think about how your best version would act and what it would do.

write down things you are proud of or would like to be proud of.

if you are easily distracted or do not know what to do at any given moment, set alarms to know what to do at that moment.

if you use social media a lot, set a limit of use.

choose habits that you know you will be able to do easily, that will make you gain confidence and little by little establish those habits in which you have procrastinated or which are more difficult for you.

think big, open yourself to the possibilities that life offers you every day and keep a positive attitude towards any situation.

apps i recommend: habit: it serves to keep track of your habits and also get organized, it's a kind of to-do list. daylio: you can record your mood, what you did during the day and your habits, it also allows you to write and add photos. it is very complete, it can be used as a digital diary. notion: to get organized.

duolingo: if you want to learn a language a few minutes a day will be enough. i learned a lot of grammar in english thanks to this, which works if you practice daily.

and as always my blog is about this and there will be many more related posts in addition to the existing ones, all to be our best version 🤍 in fact if you try it i would love to know your results.

[munson-blurbs]

The Boy is Mine (Bug's Version)

Part of @carolmunson's writing challenge! Thank you for spreading some love and joy in this community, and I hope this fic makes you smile.

Summary: A cozy night in with your sweet boyfriend who is a nuisance in the best way.

Warnings: allusions to smut, allusion to spitting, lewd jokes, basically just fluffy fluffness

WC: 1k

--

Poke.

Poke poke.

Poke poke poke.

Poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke poke–

“If you don’t stop,” you hiss without looking up from your chemistry notes, “we’re gonna have a problem.” 

Eddie pulls his forefinger back from where it’s pressed against your earlobe, his shit-eating grin morphing into a pitiful pout.

“But it’s date night,” he whines, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You promised me we could curl up and watch Monty Python after an hour, and it��s been…” he glances at the digital watch wrapped around his wrist, “...one hour and three minutes.”

“I’m still trying memorize–”

He snaps the small notebook shut and pulls you closer to him, effectively cutting you off. “And you will–after the movie.” Leaning back against the couch, he lines up his finger to once again prod at you. “C’mon, Sweetheart; we never get the place to ourselves on Friday nights.”

He’s right; his uncle has off on Friday nights and usually prefers to spend his free time relaxing at home, but he’s on a fishing trip this weekend with some of his old army buddies. 

“Okay, okay.” Truthfully, you are in dire need of a break; the formulas and lists of molecular compounds have all become meaningless squiggles right before your eyes. Your back hurts from being hunched over the snack table you’re using in lieu of a desk. Whatever ‘studying’ you do now will likely be unproductive, so you might as well snuggle up next to your boyfriend and enjoy a movie. “But only if I can study after. Some of us would prefer not to spend an entire decade in high school.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs. You’re the only person who’s allowed to crack jokes about him being held back–twice–and you milk it for all it’s worth. “Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true. It’s only been six years. And I’m gonna graduate this time. So, ha.” He sticks out his tongue, making you giggle in turn. “But, fine. You can go back to your smart person mumbo-jumbo once we finish the movie and have sex.”

The last item on his agenda snags your attention as you swing your legs onto the cushion, its stuffing poking out from beneath its worn fabric. “Excuse me?” You cock a brow in disbelief.

“As compensation for the three minutes you spent neglecting me,” he explains with a shrug. “‘S only fair.”

“Sure. You usually only need three minutes anyway.” You lift your foot to dig it into his side, but he grabs it before you can tickle him, playfully bringing it towards his open mouth as though threatening to bite it. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t put it past him.

“Best three minutes of your goddamn life.” His smirk makes a triumphant reappearance as he stands up and pads over to the kitchen. The refrigerator light illuminates him in a bright glow, a juxtaposing halo on the man wearing a shirt with a cartoon devil plastered on the front. “Wayne took all of the beer with him, but we have Mountain Dew, some orange juice that I think is still good…oh, here it is!” He rummages through the top shelf and pulls out the last can of Diet Coke, the one he’d shoved towards the back so no one drank it before you could.

You shoot him a grateful smile that he returns easily. He plucks two mugs off of the wall, both of them gag gifts he’d given to his uncle, pouring Mountain Dew in one with Ask Me About My Nuts spelled out in bolts and screws and your soda in one with a three-dimensional pair of breasts jutting out from the body.

“I ran out of, like, nice cups,” he says sheepishly, likely referring to any container that didn’t allude to body parts. “Is this okay?”

“Perfect.” 

Eddie sets the drinks down on the snack table, careful not to spill on your notebook. “Okay, pretty girl. C’mere.” He places a throw pillow on his lap and pats it, signaling that it’s time for you to assume the prime cuddling position. 

As soon as you rest your head, his hand finds its home on your upper arm. His thumb, calloused but gentle, makes gentle strokes that have both of your hearts beating slowly and in sync.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

You roll over so you can see the stubble that’s starting to prickle along his cheeks, jawline, and under his chin. “You forgot about the movie. And the snacks.”

He groans, using his free palm to rub his nose in frustration. It’s one of the cutest habits he has, and part of you always wonders if he does it just to make you smile. 

“‘M too comfy to move,” he grumbles, peering down at you with a guilty expression. 

“Me, too,” you agree. “But…snacks.”

Eddie chuckles, stretching to grab something from his side of the sofa. “We’ve got this,” he says as he procures a half-eaten can of vanilla frosting. “I swear I just opened it last night. And we can just talk until we fall asleep, like we did when we first started dating.”

The memory floods your body with warmth. Even before the two of you became a couple, when you and Eddie were only friends, you would often stay up on the phone until your consciousness gave way. No conversation topic was off-limits; on one night when he’d been more than a bit tipsy, he’d divulged some of his more…private preferences. 

“So she spit in your mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“And you like that?” 

“Abso-fuckin-lutely, Sweetheart.”

Neither of you know where tonight will take you. Maybe you’ll become a familiar tangle of limbs, trading sloppy kisses and murmured sweet nothings. Maybe the sugar from the frosting will rejuvenate one of you enough to actually put the VHS in the player. Maybe you’ll just soak in each other’s softness, letting comfort envelop you until your eyelids become too heavy to keep up.

Wherever you go, you and Eddie will get there together.

--

[nyx-is-missing]

hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

[leclerced]

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

[gremlingottoosilly]

you/your anons have got me hooked on cyberstalker!König so here are some rando headcanons:

-will go through your likes on twitter and grit his teeth if he saw you liked a man/celebrities selfie, god forbid their a male friend because he will spiral into convincing himself that this is like cheating (you two have spoken once) and he has to do something about it

-if he saw you simping for someone casually he would have to step away and let his anger out in the gym because otherwise he would start weighing the pros and cons of murdering Henry Cavill or something

-has a dragons horde of items you liked/expressed interest in because he has a whole plan when he kidnaps you he would offer it as a way to calm you down. this plan is flawless obviously

-you liked a picture of cat ears and a maid outfit ONCE and he has jerked off to that mental image at least 5 times a week

-will try to get into the things you tweet about just to start a conversation but gives up halfway since he doesn't have the best attention span, tells himself that you'll just tell him about it when your together because he could listen to you for hours <3

-that is not hyperbole btw you once posted a video giggling at something your cat was doing and he has put in on in the background as he gets through his day

-has printed your selfies to cum on stare at because he can get headaches if he stares at a phone screen for so long (hes OLD your honor)

-everytime he likes a song/movie you enjoy it fully fuels his delusions that you two are soulmates

-has found your pinterest boards and already has a downpayment on a house that matches your preferred aesthetic perfectly

-kisses the screen when he sees your selfies. nothing to add to that its just something he does

-LOVED when the 'big boy' song went viral and saw you posting about loving it, again, you two are clearly soulmates

i didn't realize how long this is I am so sorry

Omg!! It's literally so perfect, you crawled in my head like a little bug and now you are munching on my brain and I would let you because you are just chill like that. Konig is an old-fashioned stalker who doesn't have time to literally stalk you, he is a busy man with a busy life, so he catches up with your socials instead!! More under the cut

He googles every term he doesn't understand, and reads recaps of whatever show you were watching, just so he could save time on actually watching it. He writes everything in a diary, every little detail because he knows a bit about internet safety from Hutch and he just knows that this precious data is far more protected in the front pocket of his vest, in a tiny and scrawny notebook. He saves every picture and prints it, just to see every tiny detail. Your favorite color, your favorite decorations. You like pink sanrio fluffy style of decor? He doesn't understand it, and don't see a point in just adding to the clutter, but he will buy you as much Hello Kitty and My Melody stuff as possible. Something minimalistic, but expensive? He understands it a bit more, and he is happy to finally use his money for something nice and not just beer. He would be grinning like a cat with the cream if you like video games -- especially the ones he likes, the violent action ones. He can't let go of the war even at home, and having a perfect game when he doesn't actually have to worry about being in danger but putting as many enemies down as possible is nice, really. You would have to explain the point of Minecraft to him though. The celebrity crush one omg!! Konig is insecure because if you like more normal, traditionally attractive male celebrities, he just knows he can't compete. However, there has to be something wrong with you if you really like Konig, so he doesn't mind - after you stop liking those celebs of course. God save you if you have some porn in your twitter likes - he would try to implement it in your sex life. Bondage? He already knows how to make really good knots. Cnc? It's basically your whole sex story already. He would never let you forget about every embarrassing little picture you liked, and he enjoys thinking of you as a perverted thing that needs some good punishment. If you do cosplay...oh boy. Even the most normal costumes are a good jerk-off material for him. Even if you cosplay male characters, he'd find a way to sexualize you -- it's not really nice of him, but this old man finally got what cosplay means and he is not letting go of this knowledge.

His soldiers think you're his wife already because he keeps your photo, a fucking collage of your photos, on his desk and a polaroid of you in his vest pocket. Poor ol' you, having stalking problems and not even knowing about it because he is too busy to actually court you.

[hbyrde36]

Chapter 1: Under My Skin

Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang

Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang

Beta'd by @penny00dreadful

Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link

Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that. 

It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.

But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse. 

Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever. 

And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.

Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.

It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content. 

The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life. 

Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal. 

Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.

It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.

“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.” 

“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”

“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.

“Mine had to cancel.”

Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”

“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.

“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”

“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.

“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting. 

Not that he was one to pout. 

“I’m not!”

“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”

“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh. 

He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him. 

“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.

She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”

“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.

“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged. 

About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day. 

Except, it couldn't be.

It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go. 

It was unthinkable.

“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.

“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.

The other man nodded.

Shit, okay.

So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy. 

Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go. 

Get it together, Munson!

The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.

Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–

“Eddie?”

Fuck. 

Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?

“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.” 

What the fuck was wrong with him today?!

“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”

Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job! 

“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”

Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.

Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.

“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

That was… interesting. 

Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?

Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.

“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.

He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry. 

It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. 

At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was… 

It was…

Jesus Christ.

It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory. 

The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley. 

Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force. 

He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.

He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was. 

It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love. 

Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.  

“It’s great.” Steve said. 

“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”

Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right. 

It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed. 

While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.

“Ready to get started?”

Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”

His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry. 

With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work. 

They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm. 

Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.

He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him. 

He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant. 

Fuck.

Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower. 

He shouldn’t. 

It wasn’t right.

The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely. 

But Eddie was a weak, weak man.

He looked. 

Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it. 

Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.

Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat. 

Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.

“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.

Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“For?”

Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed. 

“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”

Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.

Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.

“Do you need to take a break?” 

“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”

He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things. 

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.

“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”

“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.

“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”

“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”

“Oh?”

“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”

“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”

Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi  flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.

“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”

A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke. 

“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.

“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me.  Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.” 

“And?”

Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”

Steve hummed in understanding.

“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”

“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.

Good boy.

Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”

“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.

“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”

“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.

“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”

Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter. 

Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.

As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.

“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”

“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.

Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on. 

“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Eddie’s mouth went dry. 

Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.

“Why not?”

“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.

The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.

For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end. 

He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.

It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal. 

Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times. 

“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.

Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps. 

“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”

Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation. 

“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?” 

Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call. 

“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”

Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.

“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?” 

Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?

“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”

“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”

“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”

“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”

“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”

With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for. 

“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”

“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.” 

“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”

“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?” 

Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”

“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”

“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”

It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.

“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”

Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”

Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?

Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long. 

“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.

“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”

“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”

“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”

Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–

“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”

“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”

“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”

The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.

“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”

“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”

“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”

Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.

“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Eddie froze. 

The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.

A robin.

For, Robin.

How could he have been so stupid! 

Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one. 

Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.

Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.

“Everything alright?” Steve asked.

The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat. 

“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.

That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him? 

Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on. 

Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.

He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.

Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.

After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.  

“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”

Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”

Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.

Chapter 2

All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜

[brittle-doughie]

Looking into The Holiday Express Update for CRK!

Jesus Christ, did this update already receive its bit of backlash for this being a “mystery on a train” story that lacks the little detective herself

Rest in peace, in peace Walnut Cookie. It is not your time yet.

The train station is getting a new look for the holidays! It’s about time it gets a moment of attention!

Stardust getting another skin is iffy, but I adore Milky Way’s and Space Doughnut’s costumes! They’re Special rarity however, so you might have to make it a priority to get all three of them before they’re gone!

The Story Tickets are pretty self-explanatory, but First Class Tickets are possibly just for Hard Mode. This story is NOT a Special Episode by the way, so make sure you have the whole story done for the records before the event is over

Oof, he’s not going to be spared from the fandom’s ire about him being another twink

Old Jolly has been got. This seems like a job for one cookie, but she doesn’t seem to be around right now. Such a shame. Oh hey, Almond Cookie.

The big score for me, Linzer Cookie. I’m already seeing you lads wanting her to be evil or be akin to Affogato. Come on now, didn’t we just have Affogato 2 two updates ago lol. Her event runs similarly to Twizzly, which is especially humorous since Linzer shares her VA.

Can we get Frost Queen a costume now please?

The event itself could be fun, I’m curious to see how it goes and hopefully the fandom eases up on these two for not being Roguefort or Walnut.

———————————————————————

You took it upon yourself to try and figure out the culprit among the passengers, if only Almond Cookie were here on the train with you, things would probably go smoother with an extra set of hands and eyes on the scene.

Some of the passengers…might have gotten a little carried away when they see it’s you leading the investigation.

Creme Brulee Cookie: I will do my best to help you with the investigation..but first, I want you to listen to a song of mine, one I haven’t let anyone else hear yet. It will be for your listening only…

Linzer Cookie: What an interesting turn~ The handsome/beautiful upcoming detective approaching the mysterious, but star novelist for their first step in the mystery~! Will this novelist be able to aid the detective? Do these two have a connection to each other? Could love even bloom between the two~?

(You had…barely started to ask her things before Linzer buried her head in her notebook, writing away as she maintained eye contact with the you)

[the-au-thor]

Hii! Can you write a little something with Spencer Reid who doesn't know yet he's in love with his best friend? Maybe she works with him in the BAU or something?

I like your story with Eddie Munson and I'm reading La Chispa trying to practice my spanish. Thanks!

Holaaa! It's great to read you want to practice and i helped you with that. I don't know if I can take requests, because I'm not sure I can do a good job, but you asked politely and you shall receive! Here's a little something with Spencer Reid x bestfriend! Reader

Bestfriend Blurb

words: 1k

Warnings: go to this link!

Spencer rose slowly from his chair, letting his muscles adjust to the new posture after hours of sitting, filling out reports for the latest case. He checked the time on his watch to confirm he still had time to complete everything before his date. The girl he was meeting had worked as a consultant on one of their cases, and they had bonded over discussions about science fiction and mathematics. He was on the verge of giving in to Morgan's persuasion and asking for her number, but she did it first. Two weeks passed, and the night before, she had called him for a coffee and a donut. Nothing extravagant, just some conversation to see if they were still as compatible as he had initially thought. He was excited, but he knew the excitement stemmed more from the fact that his last date had been ages ago, and it felt good to be able to do something like this again.

He began to put one of his books in his leather bag, along with the fountain pen that accompanied him everywhere and that he would never leave at the mercy of a stranger's use. He opened the drawer of his desk to look for his old notebook; his palm shuffled a couple of loose papers until he found that worn leather notebook that had been given to him a couple of years ago. He closed the drawer and tossed the notebook into his bag while something floated gracefully from its interior to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and examined it carefully, turning the white side to discover one of your photos.

He could easily recite endless skills of yours: you were truly intelligent, sweet, capable, and empathetic. You were also incredibly fast, especially when it came to paperwork. You usually finished first with enough time to go for coffee for everyone, sit in your chair, and stroll with your camera while subtly taking photos of everyone. They hardly noticed as you captured each team member immersed in their own work.

You had been taking photographs forever. Hotchner had decided that as long as it didn't interfere with your performance, you could take your little camera anywhere. Far from being annoying, everyone could admit that your little hobby brought a certain sense of calm to the constant storm that meant working on one of the BAU cases. In the midst of the ugliest of human nature, there you were with your camera, gathering the small scraps of beauty that they couldn't see, but you could.

Spencer caressed the photographic paper; you had taken that photo after a particularly difficult case. Spencer and J.J had fallen asleep in his favorite seat on the jet, both heads resting on each other while the files from the finished case lay on the table in front of them. Spencer had heard the movement you made when removing the lens cap from your camera, had opened his eyes alertly while J.J continued sleeping with strands of hair on her face and an impassive expression. Seeing you hidden behind your camera and about to shoot, he relaxed and flashed a lazy, relieved smile, and then you took the photograph.

Spencer smiled at the reminiscence and heard your laughter from the coffee machine. Morgan had said something that seemed funny to you, and you briefly covered your mouth with your hand. Spencer put away the photograph and watched you until somehow you felt his gaze while Derek continued talking to you. Your eyes met Spencer's, and a few seconds passed. You raised the corners of your lips, curving them into a smile, and your eyes arched with a mixture of affection and admiration. Your gaze was calm, and you didn't seem upset because he had canceled your Doctor Who Friday at the last minute for the date with the consultant. At this moment, Spencer couldn't think of a single valid reason to go that was more important than all the reasons he had to stick to his Friday routine of pizza, chess classes, and a marathon of his favorite show with you. Not when you smiled at him like that for a few seconds, and everything he felt just for that brief moment made him think he would be stupid to let go of the opportunity to prolong that feeling in the pit of his stomach all Friday night. Just for that smile.

He approached you while you tried to stop laughing at whatever was so amusing coming from Morgan's mouth, and you diverted your attention to him with curiosity.

"Shall we?"

Your forehead wrinkled slightly, somewhat disoriented.

"Don't you have a date?"

Spencer shrugged with a half-smile.

"We rescheduled," he explained, although the truth was that the girl still hadn't responded, but he hoped not to disappoint her too much.

You frowned. "Are you sure?"

Spencer nodded with the same smile. "Of course, dates can happen anytime, but Doctor Who, pizza, and chess?"

You smiled amusingly. "Only on Friday nights," you murmured in response, and then you said goodbye to Derek, joking about a date he had had the previous weekend. You circled around Spencer, walking toward your desk to get your things while Morgan watched Spencer, following you with his gaze. When Spencer met his friend's careful scrutiny, he saw him raise a little smile and shake his head amusingly.

"I see," he patted Spencer's shoulder. "Now I see it very clearly."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you do," he said as a farewell, moving away from him with a relaxed posture just as you approached him with your bag on your shoulder and your camera hanging from your neck.

"Ready?" you asked, and Spencer nodded.

"Ready."

Bestfriend Blurb Masterlist:

#1- When he preferred your smile

#2- When he proved he knows you well

#3- When he wanted you to choose him

#4- When you wanted to make him smile

#5- When you he loved you and you loved him back

[livwritesstuff]

‘tis my birthday today (it’s gotta be one of the worst birthdays to have, we don’t need to talk about it) anyways that’s where this is coming from

(also i’m not trying to imply that jan 1 is eddie’s bday. i wouldn’t wish that on anybody. besides, he is def a weirdo february aquarius)

The second half of the calendar year is nothing short of pandemonium for Eddie and Steve and their three daughters.

Moe’s birthday in late July kicks it off, almost immediately followed by Steve’s birthday in early August, then Hazel’s in September. Robbie’s birthday comes mere days after Halloween, and from there they dive headfirst into the bedlam of the holiday season.

Much to Eddie's relief, they all made it to yet another New Year's Day, and while the girls are definitely feeling the end-of-winter-break blues, Eddie welcomes the reprieve in festivities, brief as it may be.

His own birthday is up next – though not for another month.

He’s really not a birthday kind of guy. Never had been.

He loves making birthdays exciting for Steve and their daughters (they have a whole slew of traditions and everything – there’s names spelled out in pancakes involved; it's a very big deal), but his own…not so much.

It managed to fly under the radar for the past few years, but since this year is the big Five-Oh, he knows Steve won’t let him get away with that again.

Eddie has a complicated relationship with his birthday. When he was younger and the weight of Birthday Importance was at its peak, he never really celebrated the way other kids got to, and now, as an adult, he doesn’t know how to feel the things you’re supposed to feel about your birthday. 

Steve does a good job, despite Eddie’s weirdness. 

His favorite, Eddie thinks, was the year Moe was born, when Steve had managed to catch him off guard by renting a tiny cottage up in Maine for a few days.

“Moe or no Moe,” Steve had asked, “I’ve got Rob and Nance on standby.”

(They’d taken Moe. She saw snow for the first time. It was amazing, and people who don't want to involve their kids in stuff are a bunch of fucking weirdos).

Steve gives him a letter every year – handwritten on notebook paper and folded into whatever cheesy card he picks out.

Eddie keeps most of the letters in a fireproof lockbox along with all their passports and social security cards and birth certificates (look – Eddie doesn’t fuck around with priceless shit), but he keeps the most recent one – the one Steve gave him for his forty-ninth birthday nearly a year ago – in the top drawer of his bedside table.

He has it pretty much memorized at this point.

It says:

Ed! (with an exclamation point and everything – god, does Eddie love him)

49.

Holy shit we’re getting old.

Writing this is making me think about all the ones from the beginning, when I’d write about our future together even though we didn’t have a damn clue what we were working towards for a while.

I think we’re in it, man. Crazy, right?

(The ink color suddenly switches from blue to purple)

Sorry for the color change. Hazy decided she needed a blue pen immediately. Hope your vision hasn’t gone totally to shit and you can still read the purple.

Anyways, since I have you hostage reading this, I’m gonna take the opportunity to discuss you, because you don’t let me in real life most of the time.

You are gorgeous. Best looking face I’ve ever seen. I wonder how much time I’ve lost off my day just staring at you (actually, not a loss. I take that back)

You suck at puzzles – I know that sounds bad, but it’s great for me. I need that to rub off on Moe because she’s getting pretty good and that’s gonna be a problem for me.

You make me laugh so fucking hard every day. I’m praying the girls get your sense of “elevated” humor or whatever you like to call it

You’re so fucking smart, Eddie. I count myself lucky for it endlessly

You are completely 100% you all the time. I’m still working on that I think but I’m getting there because of you. I’m glad all that shit we went through didn’t take that away from you.

the BEST dad. Can’t believe I didn’t say that sooner. Not to brag but our kids are turning out pretty awesome (can’t go around saying that too much though it’ll go right to their heads and then any power we have left goes out the window)

You’re probably the best person I’ve ever known. Don’t think I’ll be forgetting what a catch you are any time soon, because I won't.

Thank you for loving me even all these years later. My life is better every day that I’m with you.

We’ll keep things quiet this year. Don’t get used to it though. Next year’s gonna be a rager.

Love you always!

- Steve :) ♡ ☆

[scoobysnakz]

Hard Luck

It’s hard finding love when your sole reason to live is your daughter, but when her best friends dad is annoyingly attractive and might have something to do with your rent randomly getting paid, who can blame you for being a little curious?

||* mentions of masturbation (m receiving)

Chap i

The crisp autumn air carries a sense of nostalgia, which surprises you. It has been a while since you've experienced autumn in this way, but nostalgia is supposed to be a pleasant feeling, right?

Your daughter's small, chubby fingers firmly grip your hand as you playfully swing your arm out of her reach. You can't help but laugh at her adorable pout when you pull your hand away.

"I'm just teasing you," you say with a wide grin, extending your hand for her to take. "Stop being a grouch and hold my hand, RayRay!"

Her scowl quickly turns into a cheesy grin as she latches onto your hand. The sound of her pencil case and notebook thumping matches the rhythm of her skipping, and her glittery, purple sequin backpack bounces on her back.

Raya, or RayRay as you playfully call her, is your best friend. It's a bit sad, you know, but you've never really had time for friends. Ever since her dad left, she's been the only person in your life, aside from colleagues and your parents. And it's not so bad. She has adapted to your lifestyle, developed a sense of humor—her sarcasm is surprisingly on point for a nine-year-old.

The journey from your rundown apartment to her school isn't long, but it's far enough for the houses to transform from shabby boxes with crooked slate tiles to fancy condos with gleaming windows. It always amazes you how a few turns can take you to an area where people don't even know the meaning of a food bank.

You can tell by appearances alone that you don't fit in. The navy blue cable-knit sweater and boyfriend jeans, dirtied with mud stains, don't exactly scream, “I can afford more than one vacation a year!"

On the other hand, Raya always looks pristine. Well, maybe that's an exaggeration, but you'd rather wear nothing than have your daughter look as unkempt as you. Ensuring she has enough clean, stain-free clothes is your number one priority.

As you round a corner, narrowly missing a puddle that Raya "only wanted to look at" and not jump in, her disappointed expression gives her away.

Parents bustle around, urgently trying to retrieve their kids from the playground. It's nearly impossible to spot her teacher amidst the crowd of what seems like millions of moms, dressed in thick white scarves and thigh-high brown boots.

And then you hear it—a loud screech that, under different circumstances, would signify fear instead of the original joy it was intended for. "RAYYYY!" an excited girl squeals from the opposite end of the playground. Her dark brown hair is scraped back into a painfully tight ponytail as she races toward your daughter.

The two girls jump up and down gleefully, holding each other closely. It's a nice seeing her not alone.

You're so engrossed in watching your daughter giggle with her friend that you fail to notice the tall man standing next to you. What catches your attention first is his cologne—it's expensive.

The scent of thick oak is overpowering on its own, but it's tempered by the most unremarkable shower gel known to man.

"They're cute, aren't they?" he asks, causing you to turn your head and face him. You bite your lower lip for a moment, trying to figure out who this guy is. "Yeah... they are," you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Your words come out ruder than you intended, but you can't be bothered to fix your manners when a surprisingly attractive man is staring at your daughter, enjoying her time with another child. If you weren't genuinely confused about his identity, you might have reacted more strongly. Instead, you stand there, arms folded and brow furrowed.

"I'm... sorry, I'm Gabi's dad," he explains, his tone surprisingly apologetic.

That's her name.

"I'm Raya's dad," you reply, nodding toward the two girls. Hearing who he is instantly eases your fear that he might be something worse than just a father.

An awkward silence ensues as the man continues to study your appearance, seemingly taking you in. With a soft laugh, he smiles at you—a warm and irritatingly charismatic smile. "You don't look like a dad," he grins.

You open your mouth to give him a sharp, quick-witted retort, but your expression falters when you realize your mistake. Refusing to let this stranger have the upper hand in your first interaction, you smirk at him. "What do you mean?" you ask, poking your tongue past your lips to swipe across your teeth.

He instantly catches on to your smirk, and to be honest, it's endearing. "Because you don't look likea typical dad," he responds, matching your quickness. The same mischievous grin is plastered on both of your faces as you engage in a playful stare-down.

This morning, when you hastily applied expired mascara and cheap lip balm while trying to wake up Raya, you never expected to encounter such an annoyingly funny and undeniably attractive man—by your standards, at least.

With high cheekbones, thick eyebrows, and broad shoulders, anyone would take a second look at him.

The loud peal of the school bell interrupts your scrutinizing gaze, drawing your attention back to your daughter. You quickly give her a kiss on the cheek, and she instinctively wipes it away while giving you a glare, before you push her towards the school entrance.

The man—whose name you still don't know, aside from being Gabi's father—does the same, but his daughter doesn't wipe away the kiss.

"When I asked who you were, I was hoping for a name," you mutter, mostly to yourself, but hoping he hears it too.

"Miguel," he responds, his voice lacking the warmth he had when his daughter was present.

"I'm..." you begin to introduce yourself, but he cuts you off, his voice now tinged with cockiness.

"I know who you are," he says, raising an eyebrow. Your scoff makes it clear how creepy he sounds. "Gabi talks about Raya a lot, and with you being her mother, it's only natural."

You narrow your eyes at Miguel, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. Raya is your world, and beyond that, you've kept everything else tightly guarded. It's a defense mechanism, a way to shield yourself from potential hurt or judgment.

"What exactly does Gabi say about Raya?" you ask, your voice tinged with caution. You're not sure if you should be flattered or concerned that your daughter is a topic of conversation between Miguel and his daughter.

Miguel chuckles, seemingly amused by your response. "She just talks about how funny and cool Raya is," he replies. "They've become good friends at school. Gabi is always excited to see her."

There's feel a sense of relief that washes over you. It's comforting to know that Raya has found a friend who appreciates her for who she is.

“Well I need to go,” you say while motioning over to the school gates. “Work and stuff.”

He nods his head, expression just as nonchalant as it was moments ago.

***

After dropping off Raya at school, and a brief yet intriguing conversation with Miguel, you head back home. It's considerably warmer now than it was before; sun poking out of the clouds, shining down onto the leaf-littered pavement. The odd car whizzes past and it's all you can do to jump away in time before it splashes you in murky brown liquid.

Fortunately for you, you don't have to leave for work until ten so you get some time to yourself. As soon as you unlock the door to your apartment, it took longer than you'd like to admit as you forgot which way to turn the key, you flop down onto the worn-in sofa. It creaks beneath you- a sign that you need to get a new one.

If you had the money, you would. God, if you had the money you’d move out of this shitty apartment and into… anywhere else. Maybe a house on the coast would be nice, or one of those fancy condos by Raya’s school. Either way, you want out.

You feel your eyes grow heavy, the temptation to allow yourself a few moments of sleep all too good. With a low groan, you pull yourself up off the sofa and drag your feet over to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee.

You open the jar only to find a minuscule amount granules left- six to be exact. All you want is that burst of energy and yet you are denied it. “Fuck me,” you grumble under your breath.

***

Even though it was a painfully short moment between the two of you, Miguel decides you are tolerable. Okay, maybe you’re more than tolerable, he'll settle for bearable as he's feeling especially nice today. You’re funny, well that might be a bit dramatic since he hasn’t even had a proper conversation with you, but you made him laugh- internally that is.

But right now he needs to push you, the nice lady with a pretty smile and even prettier face, out of his mind. He has to focus on this paperwork that's been sitting on his desk for God knows how long.

Begrudgingly, he picks up his pen with a sigh and starts scrawling his signature on the limitless reams of paper. It's all nonsense about him signing off on random projects, and safety procedures and- those sweet lips.

Something about you is intoxicating. Even when he was skimming through the infinite amount of universes, you didn't seem that special. Yes, there were the odd facts that caught his attention but everything else just seemed… dull. So why now, after not even a full five minutes of your company, can't he get you out of his head?

At first, he assumes it's because you’re oddly charismatic but that's not it. You weren't even trying, you just didn't want him to pull a fast one on you. Maybe, just maybe, he underestimated your personality and being around you as a real person and not some fact file actually made you likeable- no, bareable.

Double checking his office door is closed and the blind is pulled down over the frosted glass before sliding back into his chair. “LYLA,” he calls out, words muffled by his head in his hands.

There’s a small glitch next to him that quickly turns into a digitalized woman. “You called?” LYLA asks, hands on her hips.

Fuck he feels guilty but maybe seeing that cocky smirk on your face will ease the culpability he’s feeling. “You… you know what I want and I don’t want teasing or anything about it, just do it, ‘kay?” Miguel’s voice is gruff, full of an annoyance he doesn’t even know he’s feeling.

“Why would I tease you about wanting to innocently look at something?” she drawls with a smirk.

He shoots her a look, an unamused one at that. Giggling childishly, LYLA pulls up a screen full of writing. Miguel’s eyes flicker back and forth trying to find something until he catches a glimpse of your name.

He swipes and flicks the blue pixels a few times before your socials are pulled up. It’s nothing much, just your Twitter, Facebook and a surprising amount of Instagram accounts. That, makes him laugh. He can tell exactly which ones are the accounts you use for stalking people and which ones are for actually posting things.

There are mostly pictures of you and Raya together on days out but there are a few of you on nights out nights out alone. He immediately notices you never post anything with friends and it’s oddly comforting because it’s not just drunk girls with smeared eyeliner that’s missing from your pictures. It’s a boyfriend as well.

Not that he wants to fill that missing gap in your selfies, he's just feeling a little lonely cooped up in his office. He's in this universe for Gabi and no one else, not the lady with a pretty smile.

Just as he’s about to zoom in on a picture that shows an alluring amount of your cleavage, LYLA cuts him off. “I like her smile,” she says while getting up a different picture. This time it’s one of you and Raya in last year's Halloween costumes. Pirates. That’s the two of you had dressed up as.

You’d drawn a black beard on her face, Raya’s outfit cute with the oversized black and white striped shirt meanwhile you… A tight black and red corset pushes your chest in a way that makes something inside Miguel stir.

He shouldn't be looking at you like this- it's wrong and perverse. The two of you only met today and yet he's salivating over a picture of you in a Halloween costume. Yet he can't stop himself from allowing his body to react to the way you look.

That feeling slips down from his chest to his gut until it eventually reaches his crotch. You look so pretty like that, cheeks appled and eyes wide as you pull a stupid face with your daughter. The picture is innocent enough in its own right but seeing you in something ever so slightly revealing makes his brain malfunction.

He bets could make you prettier, more gorgeous than ever if you let him. His cum painting your perfectly plump lips and his hands gripping bruises into your supple flesh.

[ghouljams]

There's something I'm wondering about. Does Fae AU Price love the Witch? Or is she just interested in him? If so, when did he start liking her? Why did he start to like the witch?

Your work is beautiful and I hope you know that you make us happy with your articles!🤎

Does Price- YES OH MY GOD YES the man is head over heels for Witch. I think at the start Price was just curious, trying to get a hook in her, but he realized quickly it was more than that. I think when he gave her his name that was his first "I love you" to Witch.

Here's their meet cute:

You raise your hagstone to your eye and look around the shop. It's always interesting to find human owned businesses with a lot of fae hanging around. All sorts of fae too! You drop the stone back to rest against your chest, feeling the flow of magic as you look at the various plants and flowers. There are a few small stacks of notebooks and various other novelties among the bouquets and pots. You run your hand over a heavy leather sketchbook that feels hand made. You wonder if the owner sources from the locals.

The bell over the front door chimes and the atmosphere shifts. Magic shifts and tips, swirls and shudders, and drops to creep along the floorboards. You tilt your head, keeping your eyes on the cockscomb flowers in front of you. It feels old, heavy, not bound but binding. The way the fae around you glance quickly back and scoot closer into the flowers along the wall, is promising. You have nothing to worry about, but you do feel a little bad for the weaker fae that do their best to slide away unnoticed.

Whoever is causing a commotion certainly isn't going to stop you from getting what you came for. You pluck a few stems of the red brainy flower and add it to your collection, moving on to the last bucket on your list. All of your flowers safely in hand you turn to the open air of the store.

Your eyes fix on him immediately. Even without the sight you could pick him out of a crowd as fae. His hands press against the checkout counter, shoulders hunched as he speaks low to the taller man behind the wood barrier, the cigar between his fingers smokes in the wrong direction. The thick smoke pools over the counter, and drips down the sides like water.

It feels like a dream the way the man's head turns towards you, his eyes piercing, sticking you to your spot. You blink, watching him exhale, watching smoke slide from his mouth despite never raising his cigar to his lips. He's handsome, you think. The beard, the broad set of his shoulders, the wrap of his shirt around his biceps, even the darkness of dirt that creeps against the edges of his nails, all lend themselves to a picture that fizzes in your stomach pleasantly.

You push it from your mind. He's fae, one that feels dangerous, and fae only want one thing from Witches. Your family hasn't lost one of its own to the fae in generations and you aren't about to break that record.

You walk to the counter, and queue behind the man with a smile. He turns with you, leaning against the wood to watch you. He brings his cigar to his lips, looking you over. The larger fae narrows his eyes, his head tipping to menace you.

"Are you conducting business or chatting?" You ask, keeping your voice friendly as much as you want to be rude. You rather hate this part of the fae.

"Business," The smoke man says.

"Pull all the little strings you like," the taller man growls, "it's not my business." The smoke man waves him off.

"What about you little Witch? Business or pleasure?" His smoke curls around you curiously. You wave it off.

"I'm here to gather some ingredients, do I check out with you?" you look at the man behind the counter, or try to. Your eyes slide off of him. You recognize Mal's magic when you see it, but that doesn't make it any easier on your eyes.

The larger fae seems to light up, "No, she is in the back. I'll get her." He turns his back to you, and wanders into the back room.

You move to set your bundle of flowers onto the counter, the smoke man hardly moves out of your way. He actually seems to lean closer, just barely touching you as you do your best to not come off like you're ignoring him. After all there's no need to be rude.

Price breathes deeply, feeling the after effects of magic spark on his tongue. Citrus and vetiver, it reminds him of honey without the sticky sweetness. Wildflowers in liquid gold covering a seemingly bottomless pit of magic. It makes his mouth water. He tips his head to watch the way your lashes sweep against your cheek, the way you lips part as you sigh, resting your burden on the counter. What a pretty little meal you'd make. You’re absolutely captivating. A thousand years and he'd never see anything else as gorgeous as the magic that arcs off of you. (as beautiful as the color in your eyes)

You glance up at him. He's never met a witch whose gaze didn't cut him. You're blind, he realizes, not a speck of supernatural sight in you. So it wasn't the sight that made you interested in magic. He smiles down at you. He hasn't met an ancestral witch in ages.

"Is there something you wanted to say?" You ask, your voice as calm as a he's ever heard one.

"Could be," Price feels his register slip lower, the edges purring. Your blink slows, eyelids heavy for a brief moment before something sparks and you flinch. It's a small movement but so very telling. You're warded. Good girl.

You hum, and look back to the door behind the counter. Price hardly bothers, the muffled sounds of speech could take a while yet. Cheeky little thing not to follow the conversation. Smart though. Better to say less around him, wouldn't want to get any hooks from a nasty fae, would you?

"Where'd you come from sweetheart?" (How did I never notice you?) Price asks, hoping to drag your attention back to him. You tip your head, your fingers toying with the pendent on your necklace

"Nowhere spectacular," you smile up at him, "but certainly nowhere you were looking."

"Oh I doubt that." Price hums. You raise your pendant to your face and he belatedly realizes it's a hagstone. He moves instinctively, fingers wrapping around the stone to prevent you from looking through it. A growl rips itself from his throat, "Rude."

Your eyes widen ever so slightly. You don't fight his grip, fingers lax under his. Your hands are so soft, his thumb rubs over your finger without thinking. An intimacy he isnt allowed. Something sparks, electricity zapping his grip. Price pulls back with a hiss. You flick your fingers and drop a piece of amber into his hand. It's warm, he flips it between his fingers and gives it a look. It's warm, a small flame dancing in the gold.

"You're apologizin'," Price let's the stone drop back into his palm.

"I'm giving you something for the trouble," your voice is so sweet, gentle and pulling, "so you don't have to deal with me again."

Have to, no, but he wants to. His tether didn't even have a chance to hook you before you'd paid it off. Pretty little witch. His pretty little witch. You have to be. He can't let anyone but him have you, or your magic. No, if anyone is going to eat you, it'll be him.

[ivanzplaid]

Can I request some Poly Yandere Billy Loomis & Stu Matcher x male reader?

Where reader is a popular guy who’s always got people around him, and is just a really affectionate person so whenever he’s seen theres always either an arm around the person he’s with or an arm around himself.

yes. i love my silly little deranged boyfriends and i love them more when theyre in a murderous grind for their oblivious bf🥰 thsnk you for bringing this into my life!!!!! (yes this is an old request but i just saw it so tbh its new)

request r open, masterlist is up!

Poly! Yandere! Billy n Stu x M! Popular! Reader + Jealousy | Headcanons & Short Fic

Warnings: Murder Description, Blood Description, Jealousy/Possessiveness, very yandere actions ( gaslighting ), cute caring boyfriends🥰

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Headcanons

this could not be a more troubljng mix, two overbearing and protective boyfriends with a carefree and naturally affectionate boyfriend who just tries to be nice to everyone

while the pair adore how truly genuine and lively they are, they hate how everyone feeds into it and gives you attention that only they should be giving you

its a collected hate when they see you hanging out with your little friend group all laughing and getting too comfortable, as well as when your kind soul helped out the new kid, who asked for your number afterwards

they know they shouldnt control everything about your life, but thats what theyre here for! they think they know whats best for you, and this is just them helping your very sweet obliviousness

they share a notebook of names for who they think has been trying too much recently; Your new friend from lunch who seems to lean on your shoulder, your gym buddy who looks at you too much in the wrong areas

they try to make it seem coincidental that these things happen to you, but if you ever caught them in the act, theyd let you know thst its just for your own good, they know what's best for you snd your wellbeing

if you ever got suspicious theyd say they need to keep you safe, using it as an excuse to spend more time with you and show everyone else who you truly belong to

besides killing, theyd each have their own little ways as marking you so others know to back off a bit

billy would be more aggressive with it, actively keaving hickeys and bite marks on you, glaring down anyone who he thinks is too close while having an arm around your shoulder

stu would br a bit more silly with it, sending more quality time and making you laugh more/kiss you more often, he needs the emotional security

either way, neither would be happy, and both would gaslight you into thinking thst you truly only need them, that youre fulfilled and happy only with them, the two most caring snd concerned boyfriends in the world

Short Fic ( murder desc & yandere behavior/actions + gaslighting )

Your hands burrowed into Stu's as he held you up, gently caressing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. His hot breath covered your neck, trying to put you at ease. Infront of you was the transfer student, laying helplessly on the ground, beaten and bloody. You remembered everyone of the cuts that were displayed on his body, slowly killing him.

Your tears stained your face, working to heavy your eyes. Yet your two boyfriends wouldn't stop talking to you, comforting you while massacring the helpless boy that lay before you.

Stu's hand helped prop you chin upwards, shushing into your ear before speaking.

"Babe, you gotta understand that we had to. You're too nice! You couldn't see what he was trying to do to you. Its your flaw, you're just too nice!"

Soon after, Billy's head leaned into yours, wiping away the tears and cleaning up your face with this sleeve gently.

"Thats right, we would only do whats best for your wellbeing, you'll thank us later. We saw the way he looked and spoke about you. You just took it! We had to stick up for you since you obviously couldn't do it for yourself."

Billy's thumb circled your cheek, forcing you to look at him as he spoke. As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for putting your concerned and attentive boyfriends through so much..

Maybe they were just looking out for your best interest at heart?

[coreofmyfruits]

Mitosis

★ Herbert west × Daniel cain

Warnings: highschool AU! stupid boy crush and uhhhh frog

Summary: Herbert doesn't want a lab partner in biology. He honestly just wants to dissect his frog by himself in peace. It's too bad that he does in fact have a lab partner in biology, he can't dissect his frog in peace and on top of all of those inconveniences his lab partner seems all too interested in him rather than the frog.

Note(s): based off of @west-of-miskatonic highschool danbert AU! Oh my god this guy cooked when making this AU, couldn't put the pan down…

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Twenty minutes, it's been twenty minutes into biology and five brain itching minutes of Herbert dissecting his frog. He puts all his frustrated energy into cutting open the frog from the base of its head to its groin. Cursing mister Hill in violent muttering for gracing him with a lab partner as he guts his frog. “Did you cut your hair?”

For a moment Herbert halted his harsh digging and slicing then without caution started up again. “Are you just going to play twenty one questions or are you going to start dissecting?” He doesn't acknowledge his lab partners’ very obvious ploy at trying to get to know him better, It's irrelevant he concludes.

“Oh! I've been taking notes. You seemed to know what you're doing so I just thought I'd take notes…” Herbert scoffs glancing to his left at the shody spiral bound notebook that his lab partner apparently has been taking notes in.

He pushes up his clunky black frames eyebrows furrowed deep, he sets down his dull lab scissors now fully turned to get a better look at the notes. “Not bad.” Herbert is surprised looking at his lab partners notes, not impressed by any means but surprised. They're a little messy but all in all very informative. He concludes that maybe his lab partner isn't totally useless and hands the scissors over to him.

For a second his lab partner fumbles to grab the scissors and Hebert has to forcibly lean back on his stool to hold himself back from snatching them out of his hands. “Thanks- I'm uh Dan by the way!”

Herbert inspects the snips and pulls done by his lab partner, cataloging each movement. Not too shabby.

“I did cut my hair… by the way.” Herbert has to choke down the warm sick feeling at the base of his throat, gross.

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The next day Herbert snags an old pair of his foster fathers black jeans, they're awfully too baggy and he has to use a shoestring and multiple safety pins just to hold them in place. He also applies a heavy coat of hair spray into his fringe trying to style it the best he can. When he feels like he looks decent enough he throws on his sweater, not looking twice in the mirror and grabs his books.

“Oh- your clothes! What happened to your skirt and-”

Slam

He doesn't stay around long enough to hear the rest of his foster mothers moaning and groaning, he's already heard enough from when he chopped off his hair.

It's quiet on his way to the bus stop, he doesn't notice any noise when he arrives at the stop either. It's rather odd because someone would snicker behind him or throw something at his head by now but nothing and somehow that's even more annoying than all of the other options. Herbert taps his foot, irritated at the lack of noise around him. For once he wants someone to comment something snide to him just so he could snap back, but alas nothing. He checks his watch and the bus should be here in roughly three minutes.

“Hey-” His head shoots to turn to his left, it's his lab partner, Dan, from yesterday. “I didn't notice you took this bus… uh I was wondering if we could- if you would sit with me? I wanted to go over our notes.” He onces over Dan next to him. He's tall, looks harmless and he definitely doesn't want to go over the notes with Herbert; he's just using that as an excuse to sit next to him.

He doesn't respond but turns his head back to stare off across the street, grateful that Dan doesn't continue talking. The bus arrives three minutes later and it's on time for once something that almost never happens.

Dan gets on the bus after him and files into a two person seat taking his spot closest to the middle walkway. “So what's your name? I don't remember you telling me yesterday.”

“Herbert west.” Dan nods looking from In Front of him to the window behind Herbert than to Herbert.

“Herbert? Okay Herbert. Good morning Herbert.” Again Herbert has to choke down the warmth at the bottom of his throat. It's still gross but he thinks he'll get used to it. He nods and shifts his eyes over to Dan immediately snapping them back to Infront of him again, Dan's toothy smile overwhelming him. Gross.

→↓

“You know Herbert, I have some old pants you can have.” Herbert slams his locker shut, locking it with his dead bolt. He places the key in Dan's hand turning his back to Dan so he can place it in his backpack. “They're too small for me and I wouldn't mind giving them to you-” Dan continues struggling with the zipper for a second before he finally successfully zips the bag back up. “Yes! You can come over later today and try them on- my parents aren't home and Meg is busy with her girlfriends tonight.” Herbert can only imagine Dan doing a little fist pump in his accomplishment of zipping up his bag. The idea of free pants intriguing him slightly, the idea of Meg not floating about Dan's house clinging to Dan like a monkey while he's at Dan's house sealing the deal.

“I'll be there at five.” Herbert announces and then it's settled.

→↓

Zing….zingggggggg

“Okay- OKAY” The door to the Cain residence swings open and Herbert can't help but be slightly elated by the annoyed look on Dan's face when he greets him at the door.

“Good afternoon Dan.”

“Hurry get in, it's cold outside.” Dan moves to the side to let Herbert in. He takes the bag off of Herbert's shoulders and sets it by the door. “How are you not freezing…?”

“The cold doesn't bother me Dan.” Dan only nods and hums in disbelief. He leads Herbert down through the living room then the hallway and into his room. Herbert finds it odd as he practically lives there but let's Dan do it anyway. He also ignores the stark contrast of Dan's warm skin on his bicep.

“I'll go get the pants, I got some new books. I don't mind if you look through them.” Dan leaves his room, probably to get the pants out of the dryer, and so Herbert takes Dan's advice and begins to shuffle through his scattered book collection.

The first two are some science fiction novels (Herbert pushes those to the side) and the rest seem to be medical textbooks. Interesting… Herbert knew about Dan's aspirations to become a doctor but he didn't fully get to know the extent of it.

He moves the heavy modules around sifting through the pages every once and a while. He gets towards the end of the thick stack before he gets to the second to last book. It's a thinner book about a quarter the size of the last three and Herbert has to pause to digest the title.

Transexuals: The Brain, Body and Life

“Hey I'm back!” Herbert snaps his head to Dan's door and almost smiles at the sight of Dan struggling to balance a filled laundry basket in his arms and close the door behind him. “I see you've found them.” Dan comments, placing the basket on the foot of his bed.

Herbert nods. “Yes I have Dan…” Dan starts to aimlessly fold the rest of his laundry, plucking out the pants he had wanted to give to Herbert. “Very intriguing selection.”

Dan smiles softly, pulling open a drawer in his dresser and placing a T-shirt into it before he turns back to Herbert. “Oh I sorted out the pants already if you'd like to try them on.” Dan nods to the three pairs of black trousers laying on his comforter next to the main pile of clothes.

Herbert moves to inspect them shuffling through them. These are exactly my size. “Thank you Dan.” Herbert neatly folds each pair before picking them up and placing them onto the night stand besides the bed. He turns to Dan with an awkward smile squirming up onto his lips.

Dan stops his folding and turns to Herbert, he almost has to pinch himself. Is he smiling? Dan feels himself having to choke down a laugh. “no problem Herbert.”

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Sorry this took so long... I've got me a job now! Anyway I hope you enjoyed reading it :3