#sorry for the lack of read more guys but placing it in the post the last time was a fucking nightmare. you can block long post or ask lizzy

[batsycline69]

Chapter One: Head Above Ground, Feet in the Grave

Summary: You get a tattoo from Jason and realize your first impression may not have been spot on

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 5,576

Warnings: needles, profanity, canon-typical violence, reader has tattoos but is otherwise not described, jason doesn’t know how to flirt.

SERIES MASTERPOST | NEXT

“So. Whatcha reading?” he asks over the buzz of his needle gun. Your confused look is enough get him talking again. “Saw you with a book out front.”

As soon as he stepped out into the front thirty-five minutes after your appointment was supposed to begin, as peeved as you were, you couldn’t deny he was attractive. One of his broad shoulders leaned into the wall, his thick, tattooed arms crossed over his chest. Dark curls with a patch of white at the front.

“Oh, it’s Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier,” you reply, a little surprised the guy built like a brick shithouse was asking about your reading. Then again, he’s probably just trying to make conversation.

Jason just nods.

Maybe he isn’t trying to make conversation.

The bad news is, up close, he’s even more handsome. Now you can see the little scar that angles through his eyebrow and another that curves up along his cheek. His eyes are intense as he works, his absurdly large hand has a firm grip on your forearm, guiding you as he works. He smells like cigarettes, but only just, and what you can assume is the lingering smell of the timeworn leather jacket sprawled across the chair in the corner. And all of this is bad news because this guy is obviously bad news. How can he not be, right?

It’s just this feeling, one that you couldn’t shake as soon as he sauntered towards you, the smell of cigarette smoke lingering on his worn black t-shirt. Like he’s too cool for you. Even as he’s permanently etching a skeletal bird into your arm, there’s this air about him you can’t quite place.

Before he led you back to his station, you were so certain there was going to be some sort of bikini-clad model plastered to the wall. But yet, the space is surprisingly empty. There’s a little corkboard leaning against a small table with old designs thumb-tacked to the board and not much else.

“How long have you been working here?” you ask.

Despite asking, you already kind of know the answer.

You’ve been following the shop’s Instagram for a while now. You remember the post introducing Jason, the carousel of photos demonstrating his work. Not that you’d tell him right now, but you had fallen in love with his style as soon as you saw it. The sure, thick lines. The moody shading. Bones and knives and bugs. He had no Instagram of his own for his work that you could find; only the posts in the shop with the caption ‘by Jay.’

“Couple months,” Jason replies. “I was traveling around for a while before. This is the first steady place I’ve worked.”

“Oh, wow, that’s cool. Where were you before?” you ask. It’s small talk, and you hate it, but the lack of conversation is uncomfortable in a way that usually isn’t the case. Silence doesn’t bother you. His silence does.

You wonder if his home lacks as much personality as his station. You imagine his apartment is the kind with the mattress sitting on the floor, TV on top of a folding table, and a refrigerator full of cheap beer. Something that doesn’t feel completely moved into.

He gives a small shrug of his broad shoulders. “All around,” he replies.

Even small talk seems to be off the table.

You give a curt nod of your head. A couple minutes pass, and you can’t take it anymore. “Sorry, you mind if I grab my book real fast?”

Jason nods in return, pulling the gun away. “Go for it.”

God, you feel him watching you as you slip off the table, heading towards your bag on the little couch in the corner. Why is he watching? Why is this so awkward? Is it you? Is this guy just that standoffish? You pull out your worn bookand get back into position on the table.

“You good?” he asks, his intense eyes still trained on you.

“Yeah, all good,” you say, holding the book open with one hand as the buzzing starts back up again.

This is pathetic.

Jason has spent the last few years spending his time around the worst of the worst. He’s been with assassins, arms dealers, and soldiers so bad, even the U.S. Military didn’t want them, and yet, he’s fumbling just because someone cute is reading classic literature.

Fuck.

He’s supposed to be better than this. Ever since he got back into Gotham two months ago, he’s been making deals with the worst of the worst—as far as drug dealers go—without breaking a sweat, and yet holding a conversation with you turns him into Mr. Darcy. He’s blowing it, and he cares that he’s blowing it.

At least everyone thinks he’s dead. If this had gotten out to anyone, he’d die again.

It’s been five years since he was resurrected. A couple of weeks have passed since he flew back into Gotham with another one of Talia’s connections, this time intending to stay for good. He found a little tattoo shop near Crime Alley. Close enough to keep tabs on everything, but not so close that he’d be crossing paths with Batman regularly. The last thing he needs is to run into Bruce while trying to come up on top of Gotham’s underworld. Not until everything was ready.

That’s his world. Swept off the street and recruited for a war that wasn’t even his, not really. That’s just what he was sold: security to a kid fending for himself.

Bruce may have believed he had something to show Jason about Gotham, but this city raised him more than anything. Without a stable place to call home, the city’s streets were the substitute. What more did Bruce have to teach him when Jason had already huddled for warmth in these alleys? Ran from cops, knew all the hiding spots. What did Bruce have to offer when Jason already saught comfort in a place where comfort died? In a place where hope was trying to grow on salted earth. A place so haunted, it’s more ghost than city.

Jason was made for Gotham.

After he died, Gotham fell to ruins in the greatest earthquake she’s ever seen. An anomaly. The world wanted to watch Gotham burn, abandon the city and everyone remaining inside it. Leave her buried in the fate the world deemed appropriate for a city so infected that everyone around suffered.

He knows what it means to come back again, maybe when staying gone was what should have been done.

While he learned how to kill, he learned how to tattoo. Bruce always went on about the importance of keeping their identities safe; he chose his playboy routine, and Jason chose this.

It started before Bruce even took him in. One of the older kids he used to sell stolen car parts to gave him a stick ‘n poke in the back of his dad’s auto shop. It’d only been a few weeks after his mom died. Bruce saw it within a few days of living at the manor. He didn’t comment, but Jason saw the scowl when Bruce saw the shitty skull on his ankle. He didn’t approve, and that made his chosen path all the sweeter.

In London, the guys he was staying with tattooed each other to pass the time. That’s how it all really started. He watched their hands as they worked, watched the way the ink shot into the skin. He gave his first tattoo in the seedy back room of some haunt for scumbags. He had yet to feel at home within his body again, like it was just on loan. Like his reanimation was contingent on something that could be taken away at any time.

But he kept living. And he picked up tattooing fairly quickly. He gave plenty of shitty tattoos to men whose lives ran off of fucking over innocent people. Some of them wouldn’t even live to regret his uneven lines. A good number of them, Jason watched die.

None of that, however, negates the fact that he still can’t have a conversation with you.

Every so often, he spares a glance at you as you read. You’re holding the book with one hand, awkwardly turning the page with your pinky in a way that he knows won’t last long. He’s trying to rack his brain for something, anything, to talk to you about once you need a break from your position.

When his moment finally comes, he clears his throat.

“You ever read any Virginia Woolf?” he asks.

He’s going to spoil his whole ‘asshole tattoo artist’ persona because he’s not supposed to be reading tragic modernist writers, but he can’t bring himself to fall into his usual routine. He wants to hide behind the metaphorical mask he wears when he’s not wearing his literal mask, but he just fucking can’t with you.

He doesn’t know you. You’re just someone who booked with him a few months ago. You’re a civilian, and he is supposed to be getting ready for his Gotham takeover. Now isn’t the time. He’s got work to do.

Unsurprisingly, you seem caught off guard by his question when you look up from your book. You try to regain your composure. You seem like someone who wants to be polite like that. Jason’s eyes land on your finger as it slips into your book to hold your place.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’ve read a couple of hers.”

Jason gives a single nod of his head. He breathes as if steadying his aim to shoot. “I’m reading Mrs. Dalloway right now,” he says.

If you were someone he had to threaten, it would be going better than this. He could get you to tell him all of your secrets in under a minute no problem. But he doesn’t actually have to know how to do any of this to know that’s the wrong way to go about it. Besides, how could he forgive himself if he brought you into Red Hood’s world? You don’t belong there.

“Are you much of a reader then?” you ask.

Jason recognizes it for what it is. You’re holding out a hand, practically guiding him into a conversation just like you’ve tried so many times. You notice he’s trying too.

His lip quirks up a bit at the corner. “Yeah, I am. But don’t tell anyone. If they figure out I’m not an idiot, they may ask me to help out more.”

You graciously laugh at his joke.

He likes your laugh. It’s soft, like your skin. He’s tried to not think about it, but he has noticed. He knows you’re going to take good care of the bird carcass he’s tattooing.

When you reached out and told him what you wanted, he knew he couldn’t possibly turn the idea down. He did always have a fucked up sense of humor.

You’ll never know what makes this funny. He can’t do that to you. Maybe you can know Jason the tattoo artist, but you can’t know Red Hood.

Jason looks at you with a softness you miss when you glance away for a minute. “I’ve got a Metamorphosis tattoo over here,” he says, briefly raising the arm holding yours down.

You turn your head, trying to get a look of his Kafka tattoo, and Jason feels a little bit of warmth growing in his chest, even if he desperately wishes he didn’t. He’s getting way ahead of himself like a kid. It’s going to hurt that much more when you realize all the reasons you shouldn’t get involved with him. He shouldn’t be drawing attention to himself. He shouldn’t be getting distracted. This job isn’t for him to make connections with avid readers; he’s here to know what’s happening and when.

For all he knows, you could be a spy, aware of the moves he’s trying to make. Could work for the Penguin. But he’s aware that’s a Bruce level paranoid thought, and he’s not proud to admit that. His ties to Bruce are supposed to be severed forever.

Two hours pass far less painfully than you were expecting. Not in the literal sense, because your arm has started to get sore, but in the sense that you and Jason are finally actually talking, more or less. You take a break, trying to get the blood flow back into your arm from being at an angle for so long.

Your stomach started rumbling half an hour ago, and now you’re scrolling through your phone, chatting with Jason on what you should order. He says by the time food would get here, he’d likely be finished up.

Jason’s already told you he doesn’t do a lot of delivery. He says it’s because things are always fresher at the restaurant.

After the last couple of hours spent talking literature, you know your first impression of him was wrong—there’s a joke about books and their covers somewhere in there—but be that as it may, you still haven’t quite figured him as the sort of guy that’s going to be overly snobby about food.

He says he cooks, and you believe him, more because you like to indulge in the thought of him knowing his way around a kitchen. You also just want to believe it for the sake of justifying the crush you feel creeping in every time he shifts your arm.

You’re not going to hold your breath hoping he opens up to you, but you can tell he’s someone with a story. Someone with history. And that’s something you can respect, because you’ve got your own past you’d rather not shell out just because your tattoo artist is hot. That doesn’t stop your mind from wandering though, trying to fill in the blanks.

Maybe he did some sort of stint in the military. That’s your first guess, at least. You didn’t get any more information on the tattoos he’d done ‘all over,’ and he doesn’t talk about it anymore, so you can’t really figure out anything more than that. You also consider the fact that it’s Gotham, and shit just happens. It’s not your right to meddle in whatever tragedy this city has doled out for him.

“One of the apprentices orders delivery here a lot,” Jason says, and you roll your eyes.

“That’s not helpful, nor does it answer my question,” you say. “Even if you don’t get things delivered, you still have to know what’s good around here, right? You’re not bringing a little brown bag lunch to work every day.”

“And what if I do?” Jason asks. His voice is low, almost like he’s daring you. The features on his handsome face are serious, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes that hints he’s teasing you. And damn those eyes. You’re thankful he’s been spending the majority of your appointment staring down at your arm, because you’re not sure you’d survive two hours of looking at him, seeing where the thin ring of blue around his iris before it bleeds into vivid green.

You laugh. “Then I’d admire your dedication.”

You think he’s mostly being difficult because you offered to buy him food, a perfectly normal thing to do. But explaining to him that you’ve offered to everyone you’ve gotten a tattoo from doesn’t seem to change his mind. He’s stubborn, that much you can tell.

As you continue to scroll your phone, silence settles between the two of you. The silence doesn’t feel so oppressive this time, not weighted by awkwardness and uncertainty. Now it feels like a surrender. Neither of you bring up the beginning of the appointment. Not how he was late, not the tension that seemed to linger between the two of you, not how convinced you were that he actually hated the fact that you were sitting in his session.

“The fries at Wally’s are the best in Gotham.”

His voice comes from behind you, and you jump, turning over your shoulder quickly. He’s peering over your shoulder, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone. You hadn’t even heard him get up from his stool. Last you’d looked his way, he was sitting across from you.

You spit out a curse. “When did you get back there?” you ask, clutching your chest with overdramatic flair.

“What, you didn’t see me get up?” he asks.

You scoff. “No, I didn’t see you get up. What are you, some kind of fucking ghost?”

And Jason laughs.

At the best of the times, you consider yourself a relatively dignified individual. Maybe it’s a bit of flattery, but regardless, that’s what you’d like to believe. And yet, there’s something so incredibly rare about the sound of Jason’s laughter, something that makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. It’s like hearing something long forgotten. Like catching the song of a bird long thought extinct. This isn’t the playful scoff of laughter like when you’d said maybe Northanger Abbey was your favorite Jane Austen book, and he’d said you seemed more like an Elizabeth Bennett than a Catherine Morland; this seems like something secret. Something reserved.

Even if the sound makes your stomach flip, your foul language hardly seems funny enough to warrant such a laugh. Your silly off-handed joke doesn’t seem worthy of the burst of laughter that bubbles up from his wide chest.

“I think the hunger’s getting to you,” Jason replies finally when the laughter settles. He nudges his head back towards your phone to get back on topic. “Wally’s is good.”

You have to yank yourself from your thoughts and will yourself to nod. “Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling like such a loser for the way a single laugh could knock you off your track so quickly. You go back to scrolling through the menu to give yourself something other than gawk at him. “So fries. What else is good?” you ask, not daring to raise your eyes.

Jason crosses back over to his stool and sits. Your face gets hot as you feel self-consciousness creep up thinking maybe you’d been obvious, worried you’ll scare him off. But before you know it, he’s naming off his favorite things. And yeah, maybe you bought more than you alone could eat, and maybe you got the burger he spent a few minutes gushing about. If he doesn’t want it now, he can save it for later.

But nearly an hour later, you have a whole spread of junk food in Jason’s station and a finished bird skeleton plastic wrapped on your arm. Jason rolls his eyes at your generosity, and you threaten to eat everything you bought all by yourself, but he eats the burger and steals the fries you jokingly told him to keep his hands off of.

“So can I ask why you were so late?” you ask.

You’re toeing your boundaries. Maybe you’re intentionally trying to press your luck. Part of you knows you maybe shouldn’t ask. But you do it anyway.

Jason looks up from his burger, wiping a small smear of ketchup off his lip. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.” He smirks when he sees you quirk your eyebrow. He was thirty-five minutes late; of course you already think he’s an asshole. At least he’s a good sport about it. “I was out smoking.”

“Mm,” you say with a mockingly serious nod of your head. “Leaning up against a wall, cigarette in one hand, Mrs. Dalloway in the other. I guess you must be so cool I have to immediately forgive you,” you say sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

You smirk and go back to eating your food, unaware of Jason’s subtle gaze your way now that your attention has been diverted.

Jason’s used to a somewhat infrequent eating schedule, otherwise known as he rolls out of bed half an hour before he’s supposed to be at the shop, which doesn’t give him much time to eat. And by the time he’s done with his shift, he’s usually starved. He tries to eat an hour before kicking anyone’s ass so he doesn’t cramp up, so that involves him cramming whatever leftovers he has in the fridge into his mouth the second he gets back to his apartment. Then, he goes back out to work.

He’s become somewhat of a late night chef, putting together whatever he can make as quickly and easily as possible. The sort of skills he’d picked up when he was all on his own, trying to keep himself fed from whatever was available, doing whatever he could to make the best of a bad situation. Shoplifting butter and pasta, crushing up old Corn Flakes in a bag with a hammer to put on top. It was something his mom had done. Something he didn’t want to give up.

For the past two hours, he’s been hoping you’ll say something stupid, like how cool you think Batman is.Instead, he finds you kind in a way he doesn’t really see that often. You tolerate his shit to a certain point, and you push back when he goes too far.

People are scared of Jason, hood on or not. And they should be. They see his scars, his tattoos, his sheer size, and they cross the street. They turn their eyes as he buys bread at the grocery store. They can see him for what he is. But for some reason, you don’t. At least not now.

He’s mapping out his plan of how to take over the city, and you’re giving him shit for being late to an appointment for a job he only has for information. The fact that he met you is just a blip in the greater scheme of things, and yet that’s going to be what he walks away from today thinking about.

A guy came into the shop earlier. A local dealer. Jason played cool, pretended he didn’t have an idea who the guy was. This lowlife didn’t need to know Jason already knew where he picked up his supplies. He’d asked if the guy had any plans for the day, as if Jason didn’t already know about a shipment coming in late tonight. Jason’s plans for the evening had been clear. All he had to do was get through one more appointment.

Except that appointment had been yours.

The shop is closed now. A few stations away, one of Jason’s coworkers is still working. In the lull as you both eat, the faint buzzing of the needle and music playing from the speakers up front. Even if Jason wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s comfortable with you, there’s something of a surrender in the time you spend together.

You don’t know the things he’s going to do once you leave, and you wouldn’t assume them of him. What are you seeing in him because it’s sure as shit not something he’s ever seen himself.

At some point, Jason knows he’s going to fuck it all up. You’ll probably get ready to leave, and he’ll say something as you walk out the door that will make you question all of this. Make you second guess this good opinion of him you’ve managed to come up with. It’ll be for your own good.

His eyes drift over to your arm, your bicep still wrapped up in plastic. He can still feel the warmth of your skin lingering on his palm.

For so long, he’d been used to the dull cold of the apartment he squatted in, frigid air seeping in through neglected walls. As hard as he tries not to, he remembers arriving at Wayne Manor for the first time. He’d forgotten home could be so warm.

The warmth of your arm felt like that.

Since coming back in Gotham, he’d given plenty of tattoos, touched plenty of arms. Body heat is body heat, except when it’s yours.

“Where do you go from here?” Jason asks, looking up from his burger.

You shrug your shoulders. “Home, probably. Gonna get that good post-tattoo sleep.”

It’s cold out. You’re bundled up in your coat, aware of the tenderness of your arm where the fabric brushes up against the flesh.

You’re walking towards your train stop. The sounds of sirens echo somewhere in the distance. Purple light filters out through the blinds of one of the apartments you pass, loud bass temporarily overpowering the distant wail of emergency vehicles for a moment as you walk by, until it fizzles back out into quiet. As the music fades, you hear the sound of a couple arguing from an apartment somewhere up above you.

Across from the stairs up to the station is a bar, patrons hanging around outside smoking cigarettes and laughing. You can feel a huddle of men watching you as you move, but you don’t glance their way, just make your way up the stairs.

Yellow-tinged lights line the station, a lamp every fifteen feet or so. From what you can see in the beams of light weakly dispersing from the streetlamps, you’re alone. You find a spot under a nice shelter, though nice is relative considering the lingering smell of piss and obscene graffiti on the walls, but it’s not out in the open where anyone stumbling onto the stop will find you.

The light above you flickers sporadically. You wish there was somewhere else you could wait.

Jason hadn’t seemed thrilled that you were going out to wait for the train all on your own, but you assured him, somewhat indignant, you could handle yourself.

“You sat really well,” he’d said, and you couldn’t help but entertain the idea of inviting him along on the train with you, but you were not going to stoop to that level.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reminds you to keep your focus. You can kick your feet about Jason once you get back to your apartment.

Three guys stumble up the stairs. And just your fucking luck, you’re pretty sure they’re the guys from outside the bar. They’re laughing, and their voices carry from the opposite side of the tracks. You hope they’re going northbound, that they’ll have no reason to cross the tracks. You keep your eyes fixed away from them, down the tracks, now feeling even more impatient for the arrival your train, hoping somehow it will turn you invisible.

But their boisterous conversation suddenly turns much quieter.

Your shoulders tense, and as subtly as you can, you try to slip your hand into your bag for your pepper spray. Blindly, you feel around, trying to move as little as possible so as to not draw any more attention to yourself, because you have no doubts you’re the reason their conversation has become so hushed. If this doesn’t end horribly, you’ll have to try to remember to clear out all of the junk you have stashed away.

One of the men laughs, and then their conversation stops all together.

Your fingers curl around the tube of spray in your purse.

Without looking, you know they’re moving towards you now. Their shuffled, stumbling footsteps are growing louder. They’re drunk and not looking for their night to be over just yet. Unfortunately, you just happened to be in their way while they were looking for the next phase of the evening.

“Hey!” one yells.

You don’t acknowledge him. Maybe they’ll be drunk enough to think you genuinely can’t hear them and give up. It’s wishful thinking, but what does that matter?

Now you’re regretting pretending you were so tough for Jason because these guys sure as shit wouldn’t even give you a second glance if you were standing next to him.

They’ve crossed the tracks now, and there’s still no sign of train headlights. Your grip on the pepper spray tightens, not wanting it to slip now that your heart is starting to race.

“Hey! You!”

You don’t look.

One of them grabs your arm and tugs you out from the shelter. You wince at the contact against the fresh tattoo. “We’re talking to you,” he laughs.

You’re about to use your pepper spray when it clatters to the ground.

All three men look down at it.

“What’s this?” the second man says, bending down and picking it up.

But before any of them can say anything else, a figure just outside of the ring of light the four of you are standing under. You can’t make out any details about him besides the sheer size of him.

“Walk away while you still can,” he growls. The sound of his voice isn’t quite right. It sounds distorted. Your skin prickles with nerves from the sound of it.

The man who picked up your pepper spray turns it towards the figure, threatening to spray.

The figure just chuckles. It sounds cold, metallic. The sound of a gun cocking follows as the figure steps just into the light. The pepper spray wouldn’t do the man any good.

A man wearing a red helmet walks into sight, gun trained on the man holding my arm, but his grip drops instantaneously as he knocks through his other two friends to run, but the other two follow behind almost immediately.

And that leaves you and the guy in the helmet alone.

Gotham has its fill of guys in mask, and sure, there seems to be a new one popping up all the time, but you don’t know this one.

You look up at him, eyes wide with fright. The second the men are gone, he puts the gun back in one of the holsters on his thick thighs, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has them. You don’t know who this guy is, who he works with, whether he’s any better than that group of men or just more armed.

“You alright?” he asks when you don’t say anything. He has a voice modifier, you realize now, though you piece that together slowly.

After a beat, you nod your head. Your hand curls over your throbbing arm. You don’t like that you can’t see where he’s looking. Just two unblinking white voids where his eyes must be. “Yeah,” you breathe. Your eyes fall on your pepper spray. The man holding it must have dropped it when he ran.

When it’s clear you’re not moving to pick it up, the man bends down and grabs it. He holds out a gloved hand, offering it back to you.

Your trembling hand raises and you take it from him, offering a barely audible thanks as you slip it back into your bag.

He nods.

There’s still no sign of a train, and he’s not moving.

“I can give you a ride someplace. If you want.”

Don’t take rides from strangers. You’d heard it just as much as anyone, and the man standing before you is the definition of a stranger. You can’t even see his face; you have no idea who he is beneath that helmet. The one thing you do know is he has a gun, and he’s built like a fridge.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he adds, but his modulated reassurances don’t ease your concern. He senses your hesitation and takes a step back. “Do you want me to leave?”

A few more seconds pass as you consider the question. What if those guys come back? What if some other group comes along? But is giving your home address to the guy with a gun a better idea? And would him standing beside you as you wait for your train make you feel any safer? Could you so willingly accept he wasn’t going to just wait for the moment your guard is down to do something, just the way this city works?

Finally, you shake your head. Neither decision seems like the right one to make. But he did help you. Now you just have to hope to god he’s not going to take advantage of your vulnerability.

You want to ask if he’s one of Batman’s friends, but you don’t find the words.

Instead, you two fall into a silence. For you, it’s tense. You wonder if he feels the same, or if this is just a regular night for him. He stands near you but keeps his distance, like he’s aware how intimidating he could be.

The train is so late. There must be some hold up. One of Gotham’s usuals causing a delay in public transit. Go fucking figure.

“Are you new?” you ask finally. If the train never comes, you might end up taking him up on his offer for a ride, so you may as well try and figure something out about him. Any sort of indication of if you can trust him or not.

There’s another distorted chuckle, though somehow, this one seems less malicious than earlier when threatened with your pepper spray. “You could say that.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you don’t.

Silence settles between you again. You can see the lights of the train in the distance. You’re hoping that nothing happens on the train. All you want is to crash into your bed.

The man in the red helmet stands beside you, not pushing any further to make conversation. He waits with you. As it screeches to a halt in front of you, you turn to thank him, but you notice he’s already gone.

NEXT

[reeniecon]

-levels of possessiveness-

Include malleus draconia, lilia vanrouge, rook hunt, kalim al asim and Jamil Viper

‼️⚠️ : gn!Reader,I haven't proof read it yet, mentions of chapter 7 npc's names on lilias part, might be come out as yandere tendencies than possessiveness...

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

- kalim al asim -

• I know some of you gonna disagree with me, BUT HEAR ME OUT OKAY

• since he was a little kid he always get what he wanted right?

• why wouldn't get this one ?

• YOU GET THE IDEA RIGHT HEHEHEHE

• hm? Oh u want to go out by urself? No way hahahah, take jamil with you~ or u want me to accompany you?

• Ooooo waitt sweety dont do the chores :(( ur hand will get hurt by that, just let the maid do it for you okayy?? Oh you felt sorry for him?? For working alone? oh dont worry baba(father) will recuit the maids tmr hhe

- jamil Viper -

• this one are not very surprising

• jamil didn't really get the chance to have something in life that really his on the first place

• so, when he finally did and someone are trying to take it away from him he get really possessive over it

• he can protect kalim all the time so... He faced by almost 0 problem trying to protect you

" Jamil.. What is that?? Can we get that? " You asked him

" I can make more healthier version of it at home, are you okay with that dear? " He speak " And uh...look, dear the cooking oil that there using, it's already black soo that mean they have been using it multiple time without changing it, I wouldn't want you to eat that not-very-healty oil I'm I?" He carefully explains to you

You can sigh to him " Okay... "

" Good, let's head back I'll make it for you" He smiled sweetly to you

- lilia vanrouge -

• lmao do I need to explain??

• he is a fae

• and already lived a long life

• he knows the pain of losing people he loved dearly mallenoa.. Malleus mother and malleus father...

• so naturally he didn't want to get hurt by that feeling again of course.

• that's why he get very possessive of you

• if you're a long lived creature you might see him be not so possessive towards you because he knows he had a lot of time to spend with you.

• BUT, if you're a human... He *sigh* yeah you know the rest

" My dearie" Lilia calls for you

" Where have youve been?? " He added

" Oh, lilia I just got back from heartslabyul actually, just meet adeuce " You explain while giggling

" Hm, why lying my dear" He glares to you, while flying closer to you

" What.. No what do you mean Lilia! " You panic a little bit because what he just say to you

"Fufu.. My lovely dear... Don't lie to me okay? I know everything going on in your life " He say gently while He stroke your hair

- malleus draconia -

• HE IS A DRAGON.

• dragon are KNOWN to be a possessive creature sooo what makes you think he is any different

• he probably lock u up somewhere if he want to lmao

• not only a normal dragon but he is a dragon with POWERS he is the crowns prince to the Briar valley soooo

• he basically can do whatever he wants lol

• good luck if you catches his eyes lmao he might never let you go until your funeral, keyword MIGHT

- idia shroud -

• aaa this wired boy

• lacking basic human interaction and affection wwww

• in my eyes he would either be

• no please don't leave me boy or don't leave me or ill kms / destroy all of it

• WOULD STALK U, he probably hack into the campus CCTV just to check what are you doing currently

• asking ortho to follow you and assist you with everything you need

• would probably sends anonymous deaths threats to any guy who are flirting with you

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

More of my fics

An : I'm kinda ashamed by this lol, but Ill post it anw, I'll add more in the future but this is it for now 😂😂😂

[stxrvel]

coincidence! (2)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader. content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, we're still on the safe zone, angst if you squint, just silly writing! a/n. hi guys! finally second chapter is out! im blown away with your response!! thank u so much from the bottom of my heart! i loooooved reading your comments <33 pls remember updates are weekly or biweekly! and if you want to be tagged pls say so in the comments! see you next week ;)

series masterlist | bts masterlist | previous | next

“This is unbelievable! We're going to be rich!!!” 

“What makes you think my sister is going to give you any of that money?” 

“I created that Instagram account that was tagged in Kim Taehyung's damn story, I deserve a raise!” 

“What makes you drones think my daughter is going to give you any of that money?”

“None of you are going to get anything out of that act of feigned innocence. Honey, are you all right?”

It seemed like a light had gone on in the room, four pairs of eyes landing on your still pale, surprised face. The night had been heavy after Yuna's call and you'd had so little sleep that you didn't know how you were functioning at the moment. Maybe that was the thing: you weren't functioning at all.

When you woke up, you thought it had all been a bad dream and that definitely the first exposure you'd had to the guys in years hadn't been because Taehyung came across your books at a convention you decided not to go to and uploaded them to his Instagram account with over eighty million followers. It was impossible, wasn't it? Too crazy. 

Maybe not as crazy as waking up to your parents banging on your bedroom door saying that over a hundred thousand orders had been placed overnight and they didn't have enough book production for that much demand. 

Be that as it may, Yuna and your mother took care of the communications on the account. You went from having twenty followers (including your family and friends —your father had created an account exclusively for that and only followed you—), to almost sixty thousand in at least twelve hours. The posts you had worked so hard to create and put together were finally getting the attention they deserved, but it had all happened so fast and suddenly that it was too strong to process calmly. 

Weighing which was stronger, whether Taehyung's acknowledgment of your existence after so many years of zero contact or that your book sales shot up so immeasurably that they couldn't even keep up with demand, even if a month went by, didn't make things any easier. 

“She's obviously still in shock,” Yuna replied to your mother at your lack of response from the living room, right across the dining room where you had been sitting since you had come down from your room. Your breakfast was still untouched on the table, but that seemed to be the least important thing in the room with all the more important news. 

“Have the printers answered yet?” your brother's voice through the speaker of your father's phone rang as you blinked, reality settling too slowly on your shoulders. You didn't even want to think about what it meant that Taehyung had done that. Maybe it was simply an altruistic act, wasn't it? Maybe he felt guilt and wanted to ameliorate it somehow. What better way than to do an act of charity?

“I'm on it,” your father was sitting across from you in the dining room, his laptop on the glass of the table as he moved his hands over the keyboard and stared through his glasses at the full tip of his nose. From the way his eyes narrowed, your mother snorted. 

“Why don't you get those glasses adjusted if you know you don't see well up close, let alone on electronic devices?” the woman reached over, dragging your father's glasses until they were almost glued to his eyebrows. Your father barely gave her a goofy grin as your mother started shaking her hands. “You better move. I'll do it. You write too slow; you're getting on our son's nerves.” 

“Nah, I'm fine. I don't know if y/n is tho.” 

Silence returned and you growled internally. Well, that was enough conjecture and assumptions without any information to substantiate them, it was time to get down to business. 

 “Do you think we should take over this business now?” Yuna completely ignored your stretch and you sent her a confused look. 

Your brother exclaimed from the phone in agreement. “I call dibs on the treasury!” 

“There's no way you can keep the accounts right! You're studying law.” 

“Seojun is good at numbers, Yuna.” 

 “Ha, with all due respect Mrs. I/n, he must only be good at counting sheep.”

 “Hey,” you tried to get attention, getting up from the chair. 

 “y/n, don't talk, you're still in shock. Can you believe he once called me from the supermarket to ask if he got his change right? He didn't even move from the checkout counter. There were people booing him.” 

 “Ow, my poor baby.” 

 “I told you not to say that to anyone!” 

 “I can't keep quiet if they're speaking lies about you!” 

 “This wasn't lies! This is about my pride!” 

 “Nonsense. I'll handle the treasury. I double majored in finance and international relations for a reason.” 

 “You can't run anything without starting bossing everyone around!” 

 “It's not my fault you're a good-for-nothing!” 

 God. It was going to be a long day. 

- 

Sorting out the whole printing issue and the number of orders was difficult, but with a couple of stories, interactions with new followers and express delivery of the few copies you'd already had at home for months, the waters calmed down a bit. Now, in the stifling silence of your room, you wanted to run. 

 “Are you going to stare at the ceiling all night?” 

 “Maybe.” 

Yuna watched you from the bed while all you could do was stare as notifications continued to pop up on your Instagram account and your mail because the requests simply wouldn't stop, even though you had made a thousand clarifications to all the new followers. You were trying to focus on the bright side of things, regardless of whatever reasons there may have been for everything to have happened that way, but with your friend's incessant gaze lying on your bed it made it a little difficult. You knew she wanted to pierce your skull from curiosity, but you wouldn't know how you would answer her questions. 

 “Is there anything you'd like to share with the class?” 

 The tension had become a little more latent during the last few minutes, when Yuna saw a specific notification on the account. Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin had followed you. To describe your look of shock might be an understatement, and all you did for the next half hour was run across the room and throughout the house vociferating that you were living a nightmare. 

 Yuna has known all along that you had never been a fan of the siamese or their clan of friends, but she never knew why exactly. You had to tell her that you weren't interested in fashion, that you didn't like the kind of music Jungkook made, that hip-hop was never your thing, that you weren't interested in dilfs and you weren't interested in dance either. You had to tell her that all the things you once did with them didn't matter to you because it was painful, even if it was hard to accept.

 You couldn't remember the times you would go shopping at the small mall in town to buy the trending clothes to put together different outfits with Taehyung and Jimin, then go try them all on at your house and invite the others and even your parents to do an impromptu runway show. You couldn't remember how the genre of music that Jungkook and you listened to all the time on his iPod and your MP3 player was the same one that his entire music career focuses on. You couldn't remember the nights when Yoongi would share his writings with you and you would help him compose a song or two on the piano when he felt brave enough. Or the times when you would accompany Hoseok to his workouts and then watch him create dance routines to his favorite songs while Jungkook sang in the background. You also didn't want to remember the times when Namjoon and Seokjin would sponsor their trips and give everyone gifts without expecting anything in return. 

You couldn't remember those things. It was too much to bear for such a weak heart. 

“What do you want to know?” you sighed, your body sliding on the chair as the notifications grew. 

“How did all this happen?” 

“Why do you think I have an answer for that?” 

Yuna clicked her tongue, sitting on the bed with the cell phone still in her hands, still staring at the notification that snapped her out of her sanity. 

“It's just… this is all unbelievable, magnificent and unreal. But how come you're not so excited about what happened?” Yuna slid across the sheets, to be right in front of you, but you refused to look away from the computer. Every time you thought you had overcome and grown around everything that happened so many years ago, something would pop up to remind you that you still had a long way to go. Maybe the nostalgia was strong, but so was the anger. “Regardless of how things turned out, because I know you're not as big a fan as me, this opens a million doors for you and I don't know why you're not celebrating it like we are.” 

 “It's…complicated.” 

 “I don't think so. Tell me.” 

Yuna was unstoppable when she wanted to get answers out, but besides the obvious, of course there was something else that bothered you and kept you from enjoying this boom so much. 

 “It's just that all of this doesn't feel like it was a product of my effort,” you began, letting your gaze wander over the desk. The copies of your books you kept for yourself, the first ones you'd ever printed several years ago, lay there, as tattered as your failed accomplishment. “It doesn't feel like an achievement that my work had exploded thanks to a celebrity whose fans would buy even the toilet paper he uses. A lot of those people won't even read the book. They will just buy it and take a picture of it to say that they have the same book that the great Kim Taehyung read. Many of those books will never have a life, they will just be dust collectors and be reminders that all this did not happen because of my effort.” 

“What the fuck are you blabbering about? Of course it's the fruit of your effort! Of course you deserve it!” Yuna got up from the bed and moved the chair around the back to leave you in front of her disgruntled and almost offended face. You could see the words drawn in her face. “You worked so many years to pull this off and after so many bumps you finally can! You deserve to have what you wanted so badly. This recognition will last just the same because many other people will read them and love them and they may not be many, but you will form a solid foundation as time goes on with people who will be truly unconditional and supportive and that will grow over time. Don't look at this so negatively, maybe you skipped a couple of steps, but you had every right to. It was what you deserved after all the effort and dedication you put into this project for so many years.” 

 Yuna didn't hesitate for a second. Her very serious expression sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell from her furrowed brow that she really was angry at your perception. Perhaps she was right, but without knowing the full background of this specific situation, you were only left to shake your head in assent and send her a grateful smile. 

“I guess you're right,” you lifted a shoulder, turning your gaze back to your mail notifications.

“Of course I am!” the smile returned to her face and it didn't take long for her to look back down at her phone with sparkling eyes. “Now that we got the emotional charge out of the way, would you mind telling me how you know Taehyung?” 

Your breathing stopped for a second and you cursed yourself because it sounded too loud as you almost choked on your own saliva. 

“Oh?” 

Play fucking dumb. 

“What, did you think I wasn't going to notice? He wrote it crystal clear.” 

Yuna wasn't even looking at you, too focused on running her finger over the row of notifications. Her nonchalant demeanor only caused you to panic more. It was as if she had caught you red-handed. 

One of the best writers I've ever met in my life, damn you Kim Taehyung. 

“Ah… I didn't… I didn't really know him so let's just say…”

“He couldn't have said that for nothing, don't you think? No celebrity would do that unless it was a person they hold in deep regard.” 

Yuna had just caught you totally off guard. Maybe you should've focused a lot more on what Taehyung had written before you blocked his user from your personal account and threw the phone in the bottom of your drawer the night before and tried hard not to think about the rest for the rest of the night and all that day. 

“It's just that… uhm… we studied at the same school. But for a short time actually. I don't even remember it well actually, ha, ha.” 

Your laugh came out too constrained under your friend's narrow-eyed stare. You knew you'd have a hard time convincing her because you were a lousy liar. 

“You know, it always struck me as odd that you weren't a fan. Taehyung and Jimin are like the two extremes of your ideal type.” 

“Whaaaat?”

“And Jungkook's music is literally the kind of music you listen to, you just don't listen to his. All the other artists in the same genre you do listen to.”

“That has nothing to do with…” 

“And even your parents don't claim to know Kim Seokjin when your mother was literally a nurse. She probably worked with him.” 

“What does that have to do…?”  

“And your brother is a hip-hop fan. How come he doesn't listen to Agust D? He's the best rapper of the last few decades and he's been trending for a long time.” 

“…” 

At what fucking moment? 

“And all of them, plus Hobi and Namjoon, they all went to the same school. They're all friends. And you say you went to school with Taehyung?” 

“Ahm… well, yes, but it's not like I would have met the others.” 

Yuna looked at you, really looked you straight in the eyes as if that way she could tell what it was you were hiding or as if that solved all her guesses. It was impossible for her not to figure it out if she had already tied up all the damn loose ends. 

Since the boys had left one by one, clearly your family was the first to realize how much their departures had affected you. In the beginning there was communication and all, but when Jungkook was the last to leave you lost any kind of link with them completely. You never knew exactly what happened because no matter how hard you tried to contact them you couldn't, not even your parents could talk to the boys' parents. Perhaps they had simply grown up, matured, completely forgetting about their ordinary life in that town. 

They seemed to have disappeared from the planet. 

Until your family moved to the capital. Jungkook was just starting out as an idol, but he had an amazing debut. He had captivated the entire audience and was too successful almost from the second one. It was a torment to watch them grow professionally little by little because, although you were happy for their achievements and all, you couldn't forget that they had basically abandoned you. And your parents and Seojun had noticed. They had noticed how much seeing them all over the place was bumming you out, so unreachable when at one point they were all in your living room eating your mother's delicious kimchi and listening to your father's anecdotes. Everyone was affected by their departures, but clearly no one as much as you. 

That's why, of course, your parents and brother had made a silent vow to keep all media about the boys away from you, because they didn't even talk about it by accident in the house, at least not when you were present. 

“It must be a huge coincidence…” Yuna continued and only at that moment did you realize how much you got into your head. Your vision slightly blurred. “I shouldn't accuse you of anything for things like that, should I? What nonsense.” 

You were probably as white as a sheet of paper. 

“Yeah, it would be too weird… ha, ha.” 

God, you had to stop letting out those giggles when you were nervous. 

“Anyway, should we order fried chicken for dinner?” 

“I think I heard mom say she was going to make japchae.” 

“Ohhhhhh, Mrs. l/n's japchae is delicious!” 

You let out a laugh watching your friend spring up from the bed and head for the door. She stopped halfway out and pointed her index finger at you. 

“Don't tell my mom I said that.” 

You made a gesture to zipper your mouth shut and Yuna finally left. 

The previous conversation had been so tense that you already felt tired and ready to sleep at seven o'clock at night. Really the whole day had been so heavy for everyone that you didn't know how the lights in the house were still on. For now, you couldn't do anything else, even if orders continued to come in, now everything depended on the printer and how fast the books would come out, so you would have to wait. 

Maybe you should rest. You had asked your boss for the day off, but tomorrow you would have to continue working hard. Regardless of the incredible growth you'd had, you couldn't let your work go to waste. 

Tomorrow would be a new day. A quieter one, preferably. 

-

a/n: i'll try to have ready part 3 for next week! see you on june 13 at 11:59 pm - GMT5 time!

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7 @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthings @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @saintomie @damn-u-min-yoongi @juju-227592

[joelsgoldrush]

come back same time and place the next night

prologue / 3k words

pairing: dad's coworker!joel miller x f!reader

raiting: 18+ (minors dni)

series summary: your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker are low, but never zero. turns out the two of you have a lot more in common than you thought, especially when you find out he’s going to be staying at your house for a while. you know what they say: if you can’t beat them, fuck them.

series warnings: no outbreak AU, dad's coworker!joel (idk if that's a thing but yeah), lots of feelings (angst/fluff), age gap (reader is 23, joel is 50), no use of y/n, i'm not good at choosing names for side characters sorry for that, some chapters will include smut 18+ and i'll let you know at the beggining of each part

warnings for this chapter: soft!dom joel, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

A/N: HELLO AGAIN i'm back with a new series!!! first of all, i just wanted to say THANK YOU bc of all the love you gave my previous post. i'm so thankful for all the likes, reblogs and comments, you truly made me feel incredibly happy. tbh i used to have a hard time figuring out whether i should start posting my own creations or not, and the support you showed me made me realize that it was definitely the right call. so yeah tysm for that and i hope you also enjoy this new project of mine :) i juIt have one final left and then i'll have a couple of weeks to relax and work on this series! also english isn’t my first language so if you come across any mistake please tell me!

here's my masterlist in case you want to read my other works :)

“Sneaking out of my house / I must be out of my mind / I’m running out of excuses / We’re running out of time / You say the love will come and go / We’ll learn how to ride the ebb and flow / You’ll always leave before the light / Come back same time and place the next night.”

You take another sip of your drink, alcohol making its way through your throat. It leaves a trail of burning kisses down the inside of your esophagus, and you make an effort not to swear as the sensation settles heavily on your chest.

Stacy looks around the bar for a while, her knee impacting rhythmically against yours ever so slightly. Next thing you know, she’s snorting, her blonde hair falling like cascades over her collarbones. “I'm afraid you, my dearest friend, have lost your good judgement. There isn’t a single hot guy in this bar.”

“That’s not true,” your fingers pinch the pink straw floating on your glass, a lipstick stain adorning it. You’re not exactly sure, though. The truth is you aren’t looking for somebody tonight, at least not right now. “Give me a second.”

Scanning your surroundings, you try to concentrate on your quest: finding a new hobby for Stacy. And by hobby, you mean a man she can simp over for the rest of the night. Once you’ve examined the room multiple times without success, you feel… slightly disappointed. 

Just when you’re about to agree with her, this pretty waiter comes on the scene, placing a martini under your friend’s nose. “Here it is. Hope you enjoy it.” 

Oh.

Stacy giggles at him. It’s that specific kind of giggle you know very well. “Thank you, but I didn’t order this.”

“Don’t worry. This one’s on me,” the hot-waiter answers, giving her a smile that’s all white teeth before disappearing between the mess of sweaty bodies on the dancing floor. 

You look at her, because you already know what she will do next. She wiggles her eyebrows in your direction and takes hold of her purse, not without previously drinking almost half of the cocktail she got for free. 

Her forehead furrows in a funny way. “It’s not very good. He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” you tell her, ignoring her words. “I’m being serious.”

She leaves and you’re left alone, though you don’t mind the lack of company. The beating of your heart seems to sync with the pounding music from the pub. There’s this one girl doing karaoke, but nobody seems to be actually listening to her. You wonder if she’s aware of it, although she appears not to, because her tone gets even more high-pitched every time she gets to the chorus of the song.

After some minutes, you decide to give Stacy’s drink a try. She wasn’t wrong: the taste of it is absolutely awful. Some muscle in your jaw twitches as you cough a little.

“Is it that bad?” 

You turn to your side, looking for the owner of that unknown voice that startled you. A man stands beside you, pointing out the martini. Leaning in closer to him, you hand him the drink. “Why don’t you try it yourself?”

His cold fingers brush yours gently when he takes the glass into his hands. The straw vanishes between his lips momentarily, and then he proceeds to chuckle. “You’re right. It’s… definitely somethin’ else.”

This must be your lucky night. When was the last time a guy this good-looking approached you? He jerks his thumb toward the empty chair in front of you. “Are you waitin’ for someone?”

You can't help but smile. “Not anymore.” 

The attractive, charming stranger sits down, and you seize the opportunity to take a closer look at his face. You’re not sure of his age, but he’s older than you. He seems to be in his early 40s, the hair on his beard starting to get a bit gray. It’s subtle. If you weren’t such a perfectionist, perhaps you wouldn’t have seen it. But you did, and if possible, it just makes him come across as even more appealing to you.

“If you don’t mind me askin’, why did you order that drink?”

“Well, I didn’t. It was a gift for my friend,” you rest your chin on your palm, giving a half shrug. “She’s with the guy that gave it to her. The blonde girl over there, with the white tank top? That’s her.”

His eyes follow your gaze, finding Stacy just a couple of meters away from where the two of you were talking. She raises one of her hands in greeting, the boy from before attached to her hip like a lost puppy in the middle of the road.

“She seems nice,” he murmurs once he focuses his attention on you again. 

“Yeah, she is,” as you finish that sentence, you feel your phone vibrating in the pocket of your jacket. “Excuse me.”

It’s a text from Stacy. Said message reads: 

whose dad is that??? he’s hot af

You laugh at her occurrence, and he tugs at his shirt collar. “What happened?”

“She texted me: whose dad is that?” staring at him, you lift an eyebrow. “Do you have any children I should know of?”

The stranger seems to hesitate before replying. “No, I don’t,” you watch him lick his lips. “Why? You’re not into dads?”

He's cocky. Good thing you like cocky.

Time flies. You learn some things about him: he’s from Texas (the southern accent gives him away) and works as a contractor (just like your dad, you think, which is funny.) When he reveals how old he is, he seems to look for any sign of discomfort on your features. “I’m forty-five.”

“Twenty-three,” you retort with your own age. He glances up to the ceiling, and you give a bitter laugh. “Is it a problem for you?’”

“Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that to you?”

You flutter your eyelashes at him. “I don’t mind.” If anything, you like him more. However, there’s one mystery left to bring to light. “What I do mind is that we’ve been here for almost an hour and you still haven’t told me your name.”

He leans back in his chair. “Let's play a game.”

“Be careful. I’m really competitive.”

“You have three chances to guess my name. I’ll just give you my initial. You gotta do the rest, deal?”

What were the odds of guessing it? I should take the risk, you think as you find yourself already nodding your head. “Deal.”

“It starts with the letter J.”

“Jack,” it’s the first name that comes to your mind. For an instant, you believe you’ve won, but then you catch him smirking. “It’s not Jack, isn´t it?"

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Keep tryin’.”

“Josh?”

“Ice cold.”

“Joe?”

Something you're unable to even distinguish glows in his eyes. “I’m givin’ you one more chance.”

“So I’m close?” you ask him, probably too enthusiastic. He doesn’t say anything else, so you go on. “Is it Joel?”

He places a hand on top of his shirt where his heart is, pretending to act relieved. “Fuckin’ finally.”

You punch your fists into the air. “Yes! I knew I was gonna get it.” A sincere smile takes place on your face. “What’s my prize?”

“Well,” he inches forward, his pinky nudging your wrist, that mere touch giving you goosebumps. “You could give me your number and go on a proper date with me.”

God knows you want it. Rising from your seat, you tuck a lock of brown hair behind his ear. “I was thinking of something else.”

That’s how you end up in the ladies restroom, your back flushed against the wooden door as Joel presses his clothed knee between your legs. You moan into his mouth without thinking if there are any other people outside waiting to use the bathroom. Joel draws in a long breath, grinning as he takes in the sight of you. “You wanna put on a show for the others? I'm not one to judge."

“I want to suck you off,” your hand is dangerously close to his crotch, your nails ghosting over his zipper. He seems to be having an internal fight with the last brain cell he has left, but then he detaches himself from you, unzipping his jeans. The sound of his belt hitting the floor with a thud is what finally leads you to fall to your knees.

He’s big. You can tell his size from your position, a wet patch forming into the fabric of his boxers. Playing with the waistband of his boxers for a mere second, your self-control attempts to falter. You grab him by the base, stroking it experimentally. Joel fights back a groan, urging you to take him. “Come on, sweetheart. I don’t like t’beg.”

But you do, that’s the thing. “Please,” you whisper, hoping he’ll hear you. His eyes find yours and suddenly it clicks. A lightbulb goes on in his head. He curses under his breath, directing his dick towards your open parted lips, and your eyelids get heavy as the taste of his precum invades your tastebuds.

It’s not your fault he has an amazing dick.

You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of his length with every one of your short movements. Slick must be already staining your own panties, but you can’t get yourself to care about that insignificant detail. Not now, when Joel’s hips thrust deeper into your mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat and making you gag. It's dirty, and you should probably be ashamed of getting caught by a bystander. All your worries are swept away from your mind the moment he decides not to keep quiet. “Fuck, baby. Knew you would put that gorgeous mouth to good use. Attagirl, takin’ me so well.”

A stupid whine gets lost somewhere in your vocal tract. Intertwining your fingers with his, you locate his wandering hands on your hair, wishing he'll take the hint. He does, and grabs a handful of it, pulling you off his cock. 

“You really like this, don’t ya’?” Joel smears your lower lip with your spit. “Were you thinkin’ about this while we were talkin’ back there?”

“Y-yes,” you try to take him in your mouth again, but he doesn’t allow you to, his iron grip on your nape getting tighter the more you fight against it.

Then he lets you have it. “Bet you get off on this too,” his voice drops an octave, and it sounds so nasty and intimate you’re on the verge of crying. With teary eyes, you swallow around his length. 

You lose track of time. His bare thighs tremble and the only noise you can hear is his heavy breathing. “F—fuck. I’m close, where do you want it?” Mumbling something you can’t even comprehend with his cock still in your mouth, his thrusts begin to lose finesse, thick fingers holding you where he needs you the most. “So good, baby. Lettin’ me have you like this. Fuckin’—“

He’s about to come.

“—good girl.”

It all happens so fast you have to remind yourself to gulp down his cum, hot and sticky and just Joel’s. You patiently wait for him to come down from his high, nuzzling his happy trail. He helps you stand up, kissing you and tasting himself on your tongue. As soon as he tries to sneak a hand into your panties, getting closer to your aching cunt, you recognize your phone ringing in the distance.

Groaning, you stretch your arm, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Well, hi. This is awkward.”

You frown. Joel mimics you. “I’m sorry, who’s this?”

“I’m calling you from Stacy’s phone. We were making out and then she told me she was feeling sick, so I took her outside… and now she’s throwing up,” the boy on the other side of the line explains to you and you detect a hint of agitation in his voice. “She asked me to contact you.”

“Oh, God. Hot-waiter?”

“Yeah, she also said you were probably going to call me that,” he seems to move his phone away from his ear, and then talks to you again. “She’s not passed out, but she shouldn’t stay here.”

Does he actually think you’re going to leave her alone? “Can you tell me where you are?” you suggest him while Joel tucks himself back into his boxers.

“Next to the parking lot.”

You hang up after telling him you’ll be there in five minutes, and you feel Joel’s lips on your neck, a sigh spilling from you. His teeth nip at your sensitive skin. “You gotta go?”

Humming, you smooth down your skirt, facing the mirror and observing your reflection, some leftover mascara sticking your eyelashes together. He appears right behind you, his broad frame becoming more visible this way. “Stacy’s throwing up. I have to take her home.”

“Do you have a car?” 

“No, but I’ll call an uber. It’s no big deal.”

Joel puts his hands on his hips. “I brought my truck. Let me help you.”

Of course he has a truck. 

“Joel, you don’t have to,” you massage the back of your neck, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. 

“It’s the least I can do,” tilting his head, his lips catch yours once again. “Consider it my way of thankin’ you, since I cannot return the favor.”

It shouldn’t feel like this. You weren’t used to doing this kind of thing on a regular basis, but you’re more than sure that men don’t treat you this way after sucking them off. Still, you accept his offer since it means you’ll get to spend more time with him.

He walks you out and helps you get Stacy on her feet. As she sees Joel, she spreads her arms wide, hugging him. “Oh my God! It’s the hot dad!”

“Sweetie, you have like— puke all over your clothes,” you tell her, so Stacy chooses to hug you instead. “She gets pretty sensitive when she’s drunk.”

“I can tell,” Joel opens the back door of his truck, jerking his head in the direction of it. “Get her inside while I start the car.”

It all goes pretty well from then on. He asks you for Stacy’s address and you give it to him, the palm of his hand resting on top of your left thigh. Stacy gets comfortable in the back seat, yawning. “You two look like my parents before they got divorced.”

“That’s a really nice compliment,” you mutter with irony as Joel laughs by your side, rubbing his chin.

Soon after that, she falls asleep. Joel parks his car right in front of Stacy’s porsche. He glances over his shoulder, making sure she’s still sleeping before his seatbelt’s off and he’s grabbing you by the jaw, leaning in for a kiss. The fucker’s a very good kisser, you notice throughout the night.

“Are you gonna give me your number?” he murmurs against your mouth, his hot breath mixing with yours. 

“It depends. Will you call me?”

He tells you he will, and you prefer to trust him as you watch him save your number, a smiley face next to your name.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Joel doesn’t call you.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s starting to get to you. He did sound honest. Why the hell did he treat you like that if he wasn’t planning on calling you? Why did he insist so much on getting your number?

Men suck. Joel sucks, you decide after a whole afternoon of staring at your phone, waiting to receive a text from him. Given the situation, anything would make you feel better.

Hey! It’s Joel, from the bar. I’m so sorry for not calling you. I forgot to tell you I’m married and have three children, two cute little puppies and a cat. Anyways, what a great night we had! Take care!

Okay. Perhaps not anything.

You’re home, sitting on the couch while you watch a meaningless TV programme. It consists of answering random questions, and if you get them wrong, you fall down some dark tunnel that only God knows where it takes you.

Normally, during a night like this, you’d be studying or perhaps at Stacy’s. But tonight, your father had asked you to actually stay. He didn’t tell you why he specifically needed you there, and you didn’t bother to ask him.

Out of the blue, you hear the doorbell ring. None of your parents seem to be on the first floor, so you walk to the door, opening it. 

You choke on your own saliva.

Joel’s here. Joel, who didn’t call you. Joel, who looks absolutely good with his hair slicked back. 

“Did I ever tell you where I lived?” the tone of your voice falters, your legs suddenly feeling wobbly.

He can’t believe it either. “No. I must have the wrong address,” keeping his eyes fixated on the box of chocolates dangling from his hand, he straightens his back. “What are you doin’ here?”

“I should be asking you that,” you hiss, your pupils flared with anger. “Why the fuck are you at my house, with a freaking box of chocolates, when you couldn’t bring yourself to call me?”

Then, you hear the sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s your dad. He contemplates the scene with a smile. “I see you’ve met my daughter. Trust me, my wife and I taught her better manners than this. Don’t know why she didn’t invite you in. Food’s almost ready!”

You’re about to short-circuit. Definitely not a joke.

“Sweetheart, this is Joel Miller. Remember I told you last week that someone from the company was coming over for a while? Well, this is him,” your father chuckles, expecting you to come up any kind of answer.

Joel’s faster than you, intending to shake your hand, those same calloused fingers that he had used to touch you in that dirty bathroom now playing dumb. “Nice to meet you.”

If he wants to pretend you don’t know each other, then so be it.

You squeeze his hand without measuring your strength. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, sir.”

Turns out that your chances of hooking up with your dad’s soon-to-be coworker were low, but never zero. 

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

tags: @spurz :)

[violetsteve]

If you prefer, this is also posted on AO3

After the almost end of the world, Steve decides he’s going to put the moves on Eddie Munson.

Robin may or may not laugh in his face when he announces it.

The thing is, despite Robin almost laughing him out of the building, the thing is Steve is still figuring out his sexuality. He knows he likes girls, he’s always liked girls, but then Robin pointed out that maybe he couldn’t figure out what he wanted because he wasn’t looking in the right place and Steve realized she was right . Sure, Robin had meant more of a ‘ stop going after girls who are traditionally pretty and from well off families and try going out with girls whose company you actually enjoy’ and not a ‘ hey, dudes are kinda hot, too, right? It was real weird how transfixed you seemed to be on Eddie Munsons lips while we were actively fighting demon monsters,’ but Steve has always been good at reading in between the lines. Or, more like inserting what he wants in the gaps of what people leave unsaid.

So, no, Robin did not tell Steve to open his eyes and realize that straight guys don’t exactly think about how another guys lips will look slick with spit, how they’ll feel under the pressure of his thumb, what the sweet satisfaction of them partying so readily under his will feel like, but she did tell him to broaden his horizons and honestly, they were basically the same thing.

Which is why Steve feels like she should be more supportive of his plans to woo Eddie Munson onto his couch—and maybe, if he’s feeling ambitious, eventually into his bed.

“Robin, come on . I’m serious!” Steve will never admit, even under Russian torture again, that he whines it. He’s coming to Robin as a sounding board, not so she can make fun of him. If he wants someone to make fun of his lack of prowess, he would go talk to Dustin. 

Or, yeah on second thought no. He’s not actually sure his ego could take that much of a hit at the moment.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gasps, gripping the—newly rebuilt and polished—family video counter in front of her. “I just—Steve, that’s-that’s so ambitious . You literally just came out to me less than a week ago and you’re already talking about getting with a boy. And Eddie Munson at that.”

Steve scowls at her, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that he knows looks bitchy, but he can’t help it because—

“Don’t say his name like that. He literally almost died to save us all. He’s not fucking dirty .”

Robin immediately sobers, a guilty, but irritated look on her face. “That’s not how I meant it, Steve, and you know it. Don’t get bitchy at me just because you’re feeling sensitive about your feelings for a boy.”

And that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Steve isn’t really angry at her for laughing—Robin makes fun of him at least 7 times a day, Steve would be more concerned if she didn’t make at least one joke about this—and he isn’t even mad at her for putting a weird emphasis on Eddie’s name. No, he’s all twisted up about his feelings and he’s never been good at expressing them, let alone talking about them. He’s feeling self conscious and his skin is prickling with embarrassment and the easiest thing to do is lash out about it.

“That’s not—“ Steve cuts himself off, looking away from Robin as his shoulders slump. “You’re right,” he mumbles. “Sorry. I just. I wanna fucking kiss him so bad , Rob, and that freaks me out a little.” Steve untucks one of his arms to scrub a hand over his face, leaving the other one tucked around his waist to protect his vulnerable bits.

“Hey,” Robin murmurs, closing the distance between them so she can settle her hands on his shoulders. “I get it. Do you think I acted like a sane person the first time I realized I wanna kiss girls? I think I cried for a week. Kerry the stuffed Koala had to go to therapy because of all of my crying. It was a serious time in the Buckley house.”

Steve smiles behind his hand. He loves her so much. She’s really his best friend. He’s so thankful for her.

“You still cry about kissing girls,” Steve says, rather than admitting any of that. She already knows she’s smart, Steve doesn’t need to add any more to her ego. It just gives her more brain to bully him with.

He drops the hand covering his face to look at her. “Only now it’s more of a,” Steve puts on a high pitched, whiny voice, “‘why do I have to go to work when I could be spending all day making out with my girlfriend.’” He brings both of his hands up to clasp in front of his chest, batting his eyelashes at her in a fake-coy way.

Robin shoves at him, catches him off guard and he goes stumbling backwards into the counter, laughing the whole way. 

“Shut up , you absolute dickhead, ” she all but screeches, reaching out to give his chest another shove for good measure. “You literally have no room to talk considering you started this shift by announcing your intentions to, quite literally, crawl into Eddie’s lap and kiss him stupid . That’s almost verbatim what you said, Steve.”

Steve’s still chuckling as he rights his position a little, leaning back against the counter more comfortably. “Yeah, I did say that.” He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth before he continues with, “I really, really wanna sit on his lap and kiss him until he can’t focus, Rob.”

Robin rolls her eyes, but it’s more fond than annoyed. Steve can tell—he’s been on the receiving end of about 90 percent of Robin’s eye rolls, he’s getting good at distinguishing the emotions behind each one.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on Eddie Munson of all people. He’s so weird ,” She laughs, but Steve can tell that that, too, is fond. Robin and Eddie have a weird friendship. They geek out over obscure instruments and the nuance of tacky movies together. Steve doesn’t get it, but he enjoys watching how expressive both of them can be. He once watched Eddie climb onto a table while arguing with Robin about one of their movies. Robin followed him up shortly after, though, so Steve isn’t sure why she thinks the weird is limited to Eddie.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, and he’s man enough to admit that it sounds dreamy . God, he’s pathetic over Eddie. It scares the shit out of him. “You know, the other day he gave me a rock. It wasn’t even, like, a cool rock. It was literally just a rock. When I asked him why he just shrugged and was like ‘I dunno, it made me think of you.’”

Robin’s grin grows. “Oh my God. What did you do with the rock?”

Steve shoots her a disgruntled look. “What do you think I did with the rock? I put in my pocket and then brought it home and set it on my nightstand. Eddie gave it to me, I wasn’t just going to throw it on the ground again. That’s rude.”

Robin absolutely cackles at this, there’s no other way to describe it. She’s awash in glee as she claps her hands together a few times. “ Jesus , Steve. You’ve got it so bad for this man.”

“God,” Steve mutters, running a hand over his face again. “That’s not even the worst part, Rob. He like. He grabs his utensils with his whole fist when he eats. It’s so weird, and it’s so messy . It makes fuck all sense. He doesn't even grab a pencil that way. Just his fucking eating utensils . 

“And he walks so chaotic. He just randomly breaks into a sprint. Just starts fucking running out of nowhere. And he bounces. As if the random running wasn’t enough, he just fucking starts jumping. Sometimes he jumps at me, and it’s all I can do to actually catch him before he eats dirt. Or- or he’ll just. Spin. Just twirl in the middle of the sidewalk while still carrying on a conversation.” Steve slumps, his back getting slightly scraped against the counter as he sinks to his butt.

“The man has zero regard for personal space and he always makes way too intense of eye contact. Sometimes he’ll use one of his character voices in the middle of an otherwise totally normal conversation, and he’s always climbing on things. He’s loud and he’s weird and I wanna wrap my fingers around the collar of his shirt, shove him against a wall and then shove my tongue down his throat , jesus christ. ” Steve buries his face in his knees, his mind playing an endless loop of Eddie smiling with those stupid lips that are always cherry red and raw from his constant gnawing. Steve wants to bite them for him.

“Oh, my God, Steve.” Robing sinks down to sit across from him. “This is pathetic . I, like, knew you had a crush on Eddie but this is like. Dangerous territory. Like, the next step might be the L word level territory.”

Steve makes a small squeaking noise, his face still buried in his knees. Robin’s words hint at something that Steve is so not ready to admit to himself yet. She’s hitting way too close to something Steve has been avoiding actively and vehemently since he realized the attraction he feels for boys is decidedly not of the straight variety.

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Then, like the angel she so clearly is, Robin says, “So, wanna tell me about operation ‘crawl into Eddie’s lap and makeout with him?’”

Steve laughs, the tightness in his chest slowly easing. He lifts his head, and then spills his guts.

***

The plan starts simply. First, he needs to get Eddie alone . No annoying tagalongs to potentially interrupt.

It’s easier said than done. For two days straight, Steve asks Eddie to hang out and, somehow, one of the kids manages to weasel into their plans.

It’s driving Steve nuts.  

He casually asks Eddie to watch a movie, give him a proper education like him and Robin are always going on about, and Dustin overhears and invites himself.

He asks Eddie to go for a walk, makes an excuse about it being gorgeous outside while he plots ways for the walk to end right outside his house, isn’t that neat, but Lucas and Max overhear and suddenly it’s a group affair.

He asks Eddie to get milkshakes, plans to lure him back to his house with the promise of complete control of Steve’s record player, but El overhears and asks if she can tag along and Steve just can’t look into her big, earnest eyes and tell her no. He’s not a monster.

So they get milkshakes with El, and it’s fun . Of course it’s fun, but Steve is getting desperate . It’s been a little over a week since he hatched his mad plan with Robin and he’s about to start climbing the walls with anticipation.

It doesn’t help that Eddie has a mother fucking oral fixation. At every opportunity he’s either putting stuff in his mouth or chewing on something. It’s fucking rude, is what it is. It’s like he doesn’t even realize Steve is suffering.

It all finally comes to a head a full week and four days after his conversation with Robin on the floor of Family Video. He’s stopping by Eddie’s house to grab something Dustin left behind because Dustin asked and he’s nice . It’s maybe also because it’s a great excuse to see Eddie, but Dustin sure as shit doesn’t need to know that that’s the sole reason Steve said he will.

Eddie is slightly bent over, riffling through his Dungeons and Dorks stuff, and Steve is trying so hard to pretend like he’s not entirely focusing on his ass and the line of exposed skin above his belt. If Eddie turns around right now, he’s busted for sure.

Eddie’s just mentioned some kind of dragon when he lets out a triumphant noise, his story coming to an abrupt halt as he spins on his heel to face Steve.

“Aha!” He exclaims, thrusting a notebook in Steve's direction. 

Steve automatically reaches out to take it, his fingers brushing over the backs of Eddie’s in the switch over. Eddie bites his bottom lip at the contact, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and suddenly all Steve is thinking about is his mouth.

Steve debates with himself for a moment. This isn’t really how he planned to seduce his way into Eddie Munson’s lap, but he’s adaptable. If the years of almost apocalypses have taught Steve anything, it’s that sometimes you have to make do with what you have.

And what Steve has is an empty trailer save the two of them, and a couch less than ten feet away. He’s got the object of his affections standing in front of him, and Steve decides to adapt.

He wets his own lips, stepping towards Eddie. His hand is still holding Eddie’s hostage over the notebook.

“Thanks, Eddie,” Steve murmurs, ducking his head so he can look up through his lashes.

Steve watches Eddie’s breath catch, watches him stutter over his next sentence.

“Y-yeah,” he breathes out, his eyes flicking between Steve’s eyes and his mouth at a rapid speed. “Of c-course. I mean, it happens. Kids forget things. I’m sure Dustin just wanted to, like, go over the last session's notes for anything he missed.”

“Of course,” Steve agrees, taking another step into Eddie’s space. He’s aware that he’s primarily staring at Eddie’s lips, which is probably rude, but he can’t help it. They’re wet and shiny and Steve has been thinking about them an obsessive amount for the last week and a half.

“We’re, um, I-I mean they’re going against a red dragon,” Eddie continues. Steve’s aware of this. It’s what Eddie had been telling him when he’d found the notebook. “They’re very powerful, almost impossible to defeat.”

“Are they?” Steve’s only half following the conversation, but that’s not saying much. He has a hard time keeping up with the DnD talk on a regular day.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie says, and then he’s off. He starts spitting words so fast Steve wouldn’t be able to keep up even if he were paying complete attention.

“Eddie,” Steve says, but Eddie is still talking, still mumbling along about the red dragon.

“Eddie,” Steve tries again, but it’s like he’s shouting in an empty room. He knows Eddie knows he’s talking to him, can tell by how wide Eddie’s eyes are, how he’s not even trying to not slur his rapidfire words together. If Eddie was talking about dragons for the hell of it, he’d be gesticulating and probably climbing on things. As it were, he’s got his gaze fixed on Steve, eyes comically wide as his words rush together—barely getting one out before the next slew rush into it in a truly amusing word traffic jam.

Eddie’s nervous , and fuck if that doesn’t thrill Steve to his core. Steve takes the final step towards him to completely close the distance and—

Eddie takes a step back, his words stuttering along with Steve’s heart in his chest. He wasn’t expecting that, wasn’t expecting Eddie to back away from him so quickly. Steve has half a second to be hurt, to mentally kick himself because get a fucking clue , Harrington, before he catches Eddie’s eyes darting down to his lips, his tongue unconsciously swiping along his lower lip before his gaze skitters back up to Steve’s.

And, oh, yeah , Steve has him exactly where he wants him. Eddie isn’t stepping back because he doesn’t want Steve. No, he’s stepping back because he’s prey . Steve is stalking towards him with a single minded focus and Eddie is skittering backwards like a scared rabbit—bouncing back step by step as Steve approaches until his back collides with the wall. That, finally, seems to knock all their air out of Eddie. The dragon conversation dies on his lips as Steve finally—fucking finally —closes the remaining distance between them. He reaches out, cupping Eddie's cheek in one hand, his jaw in the other, all while pressing up against Eddie from hip to chest.

“ Eddie, ” Steve murmurs, his eyes hooding. This time, Steve feels Eddie’s breath catch, feels the way a tremor works its way through Eddie’s body. He’s staring up at Steve with wide, wild eyes. He looks like a deer caught in a trap—ready to break his leg trying to get away if he needs to.

Steve isn’t sure why that makes him feel a little wild, but it does.

He stretches his thumb out to swipe across Eddie's bottom lip—already bitten and red from Eddie’s nervous chewing. God , it drives Steve crazy . He has a half-hysterical thought about offering his own up for Eddie to chew on when he’s nervous. Eddie makes him crazy .

Steve licks at his own lips as he watches the way his thumb catches and drags and the swollen skin of Eddie’s bottom lip. Eddie’s trembling in earnest now, and Steve feels his pulse thundering in his ears. He wants to kiss Eddie so bad his fucking toes are curling with the anticipation.

He flicks his gaze up, away from Eddie’s lips up to his eyes and he has to fight back a groan. Eddie looks fucking wrecked and Steve hasn’t even kissed him yet. His eyes are wide and wild, his pupils blown and there’s a scarlet flush in his cheeks. He’s fucking panting against Steve’s face and he can’t take it any more. He really, really can’t. He has to kiss him—screw anticipation, screw driving Eddie past the brink. He needs and he needs now.

“ Eddie, ” Steve practically gasps . “Eddie, please.” Steve squeezes his eyes shut as his body unconsciously rocks forward, seeking even more of Eddie out. “Wanna kiss you so bad, please say I can, please—”

And before Steve can get another plea out, Eddie’s slamming his head forward with enough force to knock their teeth together in an uncomfortable clack ; enough force that their noses knock together in a painful way.

But Steve doesn't care . He doesn’t care because Eddie’s lips are on his and he feels like there’s liquid fire coursing through his veins. He feels lit up from the inside out as Eddie finally, finally touches him back. He fists a hand in the back of Steve’s shirt, the other winding through Steve’s hair and fuck it’s finally happening. After night upon night of imagining what kissing Eddie Munson would be like, Steve’s finally doing it.

And goddamn is he doing it. Eddie’s lips are slick against his, hot and encouraging . They slide together in a way that has Steve’s mind going blissfully blank, his only thoughts being hotwetyesmore.  

He kisses him messy, lips moving together in a too fast pace that neither of them can keep track of; bruising force in the way their lips slide, spit sliping from their parted lips in a slow trickle that has Steve’s fingers curling against Eddie’s jaw.

He uses that hand to tilt Eddie’s head up slightly, angling it enough that Steve can get his bottom lip between his own and suck slightly. The first slid of Eddie’s lip between Steve’s own has him seeing fucking stars . 

A punched out groan breaks free from Eddie’s throat and he rocks forward into Steve, seeking more . The hand in the middle of his back pulls and Steve is helpless to do anything but push Eddie more firmly into the wall. He knows it has to hurt, has to be restricting Eddie’s breathing with how tightly they’re pressed together, but he can’t take enough focus away from Eddie’s mouth to care . Plus, if Eddie minds that much he wouldn’t be pulling Steve closer .

Eddie breathes a wet gasp into Steve’s mouth when he takes his teeth to the lip still tucked between his own, and Steve can’t help but let out a gasp of his own. Eddie tastes fucking phenomenal. He can taste the lingering tobacco on his tongue, the salty tang of the popcorn he must have had earlier, and just the overwhelming taste of Eddie. Hot, sweet, fucking sublime. Steve‘s never been a particularly religious man, but he feels like he’s drinking heaven straight from Eddie’s mouth. With every gasp, every moan, every brush of Eddie’s tongue, he feels one step closer to absolution. It’s addicting .

God , he wants more. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him, on bare skin. He wants those deft musicians fingers to snake into his hair, tug a bit. He wants Eddie over him and under him and—

He stills suddenly, a thought occurring to him. The line that had triggered this whole thing—his announcement to Robin back in Family Video—and suddenly there’s a burning need in Steve’s gut. God, he needs to sit in Eddie’s lap right now. Needs to feel his strong thighs under him, needs Eddie’s hands on his ass and his tongue in his mouth.

“ Fuck, ” Steve bites out when he pulls back. Tearing his mouth away from Eddie’s is so much harder than it has any right to be.

Eddie’s staring at Steve with glassy eyes, his lips shiny and red and oh fuck even his chin is glistening with their spit. Steve wants to devour him.

“Go sit on the couch,” Steve says, and is pleasantly surprised that his voice only sounds a little rough, a little shaky.

“What?” Eddie croaks out, staring at Steve for a beat. Then, miracle of miracles, he does it. He stares at Steve the whole time, the glassy look getting a little clearer, and Steve thinks that simply will not do.

The minute Eddie is seated, Steve’s crawling his way into his lap. He wedges his knees into the crease at the back of the couch, shuffling as far forward as he can so their chests are pressing together, their clothed crotches aligning. Then, without giving Eddie a chance to adjust, he drops down, pressing the full weight of his ass into Eddie’s thighs and, by proximity, his dick.

“ Jesus Christ ,” Eddie swears, his hands shooting out to grab at Steve’s ass on instinct. Steve almost giggles . It’s exactly what he wants.

“You can just call me Steve,” he mutters, and before Eddie can reply, he’s sweeping in and claiming Eddie’s lips again. Eddie huffs against his mouth, but let’s Steve have the last word. Steve’s glad because he has plans .

Plans that start with Steve winding those thick curls around his fingers as he slides his lips against Eddie’s. Eddie pushes his head back into Steve’s hands like a cat, and it makes Steve smile into their kiss, which makes Eddie smile into the kiss. It’s like a domino effect—once Steve feels Eddie’s smile against his, he starts giggling like a schoolgirl. He can’t help it, this feels unreal in the best possible way.

Then Eddie’s off, giggling back into Steve’s mouth. They’re both just sitting there giggling at each other, eyes squinted and happy . God, Steve feels euphoric in this moment, perched in Eddie’s lap like it’s his throne, with Eddie’s hands on his ass.

Eddie pulls back after a moment, when their smiles are too wide to actually kiss. He brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of hair away from Steve’s eyes, tucking the long lock behind his ear before putting his hand back on Steve’s ass. 

“You’re unbelievable, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, eyes so full of affection that Steve feels his insides turn to mush. He squirms in Eddie’s laps, ducking his head to mouth at Eddie’s neck because if he stares into his eyes any longer he’s going to do something stupid . Stupid like admit that he’s pretty fucking sure he’s in love with Eddie, has been since he gave him that dumb rock for no decernable reason other than he wanted to, because he was thinking of Steve.

Steve tongues at the tendon in Eddie’s neck that’s stretched taunt, rubs his nose along his jaw and up to the hollow under his ear. Eddie laughs, tilting his head sideways to give Steve easier access.

“Oh, now you’re gonna be shy? After you practically pounced on me earli—”

Eddie’s words cut off in a choked groan as Steve bites, hard , at the tendon he was just showing attention to.

“ Steve, ” Eddie gasps, but Steve doesn’t let him do any other talking. No, he’s not going to let Eddie derail him again. So, he dives back for Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, not slowing down and not giving Eddie a chance to catch up. He smooths his tongue alongside Eddie’s, lets Eddie push back against it with his own for a millisecond, before he’s switching tactics—licking behind the top row of Eddie’s teeth, sliding his tongue over Eddie’s bottom lip. 

Eddie squeezes his ass at the sudden onslaught, and Steve can’t help the small jerk his body gives at that. He grinds down, a gasp trapped in the humid air between them as sharp waves of pleasure shoot up his spine. He’s trapped in between Eddie’s lips and his hands and he feels like he’s high with it.

He’s enjoying himself so much.

He slides his tongue along Eddie’s again, enjoys the way it's slightly rough and gloriously slick against his own. Enjoys the way it makes his pulse thrum a little faster, his fingers grip a little tighter where they’re fisted in Eddie’s hair—the way it makes Eddie squeeze a little tighter, which makes Steve grind down a little harder.

Steve feels the evidence of Eddie’s interest, has been feeling it, and knows Eddie has to be aware of Steve’s own. And Steve’s fantasized about Eddie’s lips for so long that he’s tried to keep it to just that—tried to focus on the heady drag of lips on lips—but it’s hard to ignore the way Steve’s own hips are twisting down, seeking as much of Eddie as possible. Hard to ignore the way Eddie has his own feet planted on the floor, meeting Steve’s hips with firm thrusts of his own.

They’re sharing humid air and sharp gasps, their lips swollen and honestly sore . Steve’s lips ache in the best way he’s ever felt, and Steve doesn’t want to stop. Wants to sit right here on Eddie’s strong thighs, wants to feel Eddie’s teeth nipping at the too sensitive skin of his mouth, wants to kiss Eddie for the rest of his life .

They kiss and kiss and kiss, and Steve has never just kissed someone like this. He’s never kissed just to feel, kissed just for the pleasure of it with no expectations for what’s to follow. He feels intoxicated. He’s utterly, wholly blissed out on Eddie Munson’s mouth and he never wants it to end.

They kiss for so long that Steve has honestly started to lose feeling in his lips. It’s weird feeling them so sore, so numb. But they are, so he slowly, so slowly pulls back. Leaning down for a few lingering pecks as he puts a little distance between their mouths.

Eddie’s mouth is bright red, spit slick and so tempting. Steve watches with fascination as a single string of spit connects their lips, stretching until he’s put enough distance between them that it breaks.

Steve bites his lip on a moan, thinks that’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

He meets Eddie’s gaze. His eyes are wild, pupils blown out. His hair is an absolute disaster from the way Steve’s been running his fingers through it, and his cheeks are flushed so prettily. Steve can’t resist sneaking one more kiss in, lingering around afterwards to rub their noses together.

“Hi,” Steve finally murmurs and fuck, is that his voice? Jesus, he sounds wrecked.

“Hi,” Eddie says back, his smile verging on loopy. “Did you know that some corvids can understand physics?”

Steve stares at him for a beat, a little stunned and a lot confused by the abrupt topic switch. Eddie stares back, a look on his face that Steve can only take for regret, his already pink face is turning positively crimson. 

It’s dead quiet for a moment, then Steve bursts into laughter. His chest absolutely swells with affection, with, fuck it, love. God damn , he can’t deny it any longer. The love he feels for this boy sitting under him is overwhelming at the best of times, and it feels like it’s just bursting out of him at this moment. He’s coming apart at the seams with his feelings for Eddie, and he’s done trying to pretend that they’re anything but that.

“Oh my God, ” Eddie mutters, bringing his hands up to hide his face. It’s so endearing. Steve is endeared. “Sorry, fuck. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Steve’s still grinning down at Eddie, moving his hands to clasp around Eddie’s wrists, trying to pry his hands away. He never wants to not be looking at Eddie. He’s so fucking weird and Steve likes him so much. “I like you so fucking much .”

Eddie lets Steve pull his hands away, and he…there’s no other word for it, Eddie just absolutely lights up. It’s like Steve’s staring directly at the sun. Eddie is beaming up at him, his smile so wide that his eyes are basically closed. He has laugh lines, and Steve is already obsessed with them, already thinking of ways to make Eddie smile this wide, this radiant all the time.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve confirms. “Just ask Robin. I’ve been whining about it for weeks .”

Eddie laughs again, his grin not dimming in the slightest, and Steve just has to taste it—has to get his mouth around Eddie’s happiness. So, he swoops back in, feels Eddie’s laughter transfer to him via their connected mouths, feels a piece of himself that’s long been looking for a home finally slot into place.

[doodlekoo]

OUCH | pjm

Summary: you hurt your foot and Jimin thinks your gonna die

Pairing: boyfriend!jimin x fem?reader (mentions pronouns a few times)

Word count: 2.4k

Rating: PG

Genre/Warnings: established relationship, injury, pain, implied?verbal abuse, explicit language, kissing, FLUFF HEH (my favourite), oc is so in love with Jimin

Note: hello fellow fluff lovers, i’m so sorry i’ve been ia for 10 months i was focusing on finishing my final year for college. tbh creative writing isn't my strong point it’s more of a side hobby so please understand i won’t be updating regularly i’ll probably be posting more so when I'm bored and feel like it ahahaha. I do want to point out thanks to all those who liked my previous stories. I really do appreciate it it’s great motivation!! anywho this story was based on when i hurt my foot (it was a more gross story but still hurt like a bitch) i tried limping home but the entire time i wished someone would carry me and care for me the way jimin does in the ff (sad i know). i originally wanted it to be longer going into detail about Jimin’s backstory but i thought short and sweet was better SO ENJOY i hope you all like it :)

and as always please let me know what you guys think and if you want more stories like this! please also leave a like and/or reblog if you enjoyed reading! :D

A warm sensation spreads through your body, engulfing you in a comforting embrace. You couldn't help but smile as a sense of contentment washed over you. The day had been a success. You followed every command and every instruction that your superiors had asked you to follow. Starting a new job was a challenging experience, one you hadn’t gone through before. The memory of your previous employment still haunts you, the echoes of your coworkers' voices reverberating in your mind as they berated you for the slightest of missteps. Not only was it stressful to deal with that every day, but you would also feel even more drained coming home after the endless regrets ran through your mind.

The more you worked at that god-awful place, the more your thoughts grew—were these issues truly insignificant, or were they looming large and you simply lacked the perspective to see them?

Your boyfriend, Jimin, was constantly begging you to quit the job since the sight of you so wrapped up in absolute guilt crushed him every day. Jimin only wanted what was best for you. The stubbornness he had over you was often a hard take but it was only ever going to be beneficial. As the begs increased in volume, your guilt scaled high, resulting in an endless cycle.

You knew you had to do it. Gathering yourself mentally and emotionally to utter those two liberating words took a great deal of courage.

"I quit."

You said it slightly quietly, still unsure. but you were stern about it with an attempt at a demeaning stare. In your head, you felt pretty confident with the way you delivered it, only to have that confidence descend with the sudden scoffs followed by the classic response, "Is that supposed to impress me?"

Perhaps Jimin was right. The testosterone in the room was unbearable at this point, and that slow, excruciating deterioration of your brain was just really not worth it. Staring back at your manager, you remained undeterred.

"I'll be handing in my notice tomorrow."

It was never worth creating an argument with your manager or anyone who lacked basic brain cells, in fact. That simple interaction only changed you for the better, and slowly but surely you felt you had a little more respect for yourself.

As you navigate the bustling street after your third shift, a palpable aura of rejuvenation surrounds you, causing your steps to take on a playful bounce. The faint aroma of coffee lingers on your clothes. The joy felt completely surreal, almost like time and space had been warped. Though the relentless bombardment of verbal abuse made your mind gradually deteriorate, it now made even the most challenging tasks a mere cakewalk.

The rain had been hammering down on the cafe windows for most of the day, so when you were met with the fortunate sun slowly peeking out from the clouds, you felt enveloped with its warmth, feeling it gradually filling your mind up with a little extra dose of serotonin.

Several metres or so away from your workplace, in a small back alley, you could smell the damp brick encroaching on your senses. Looking farther ahead, you saw the recent confrontation you were only slowly getting used to. It was amusing to you that a couple of steps were the only thing you had to worry about in your new day-to-day life. It was a sign that you were at least doing something right. You braced yourself for the steep steps that lay ahead while keeping in mind the wet, slick concrete.

And at that moment, the serotonin vanished. As the calmness of the moment dissipated, a surge of anxiety and adrenaline took over. Your heart plummeted as you failed to catch those final steps. Your foot barely brushes the step's edge. As you stumbled, your ankle gave way beneath you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You squealed, trying not to make any noise, as a wave of pain shot from your foot up through your body when the weight followed.

"Ouch,"

You hissed in pain as you sat at the foot of the steps. Looking absolutely helpless. The surrealness seemed to slip away as the situation unfolded before your eyes. Your mind wandered in silence. As you glanced around, a wave of relief washed over you as you realised that no one had witnessed your mortifying disaster.

I'm fine. I'm fine. You managed to convince yourself that you could make it home since the distance to your house was less than a mile. I can limp; it's fine. You reached for the railing and attempted to pull yourself up, only to be reacquainted with the searing pain you'd felt before.

Fuck.

You personally don't like to worry excessively about pain and injuries because you've always considered it a waste of time to acknowledge the warnings your body gave you. As the numbness set in, you realised that the situation was far worse than you had initially thought. Your body lay still and unresponsive, leaving you with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Along with the overwhelming urge to get up and leave, you also had the nagging fear that someone could hear a small person yelping at the bottom of the steps and decide to make a huge deal out of it. You know one person, Jimin, who would take his time over an insignificant issue. He would be the one to hire a golden carriage and transport you in grandeur, as the conclusion to convincing you that you needed to rescue yourself from those said scary steps. That was the worst-case scenario in your mind. However, it reached the point where you would rather have him make this big of a deal than a complete stranger who would have thought you were weak, whereas Jimin was certain that you are not.

A soft, sad sigh escapes your lips as your hand instinctively reaches for the back pocket of your jeans. With fingers trembling in anticipation, you searched for Jimin's name. As you raised your phone to your ear, you sensed your heart rate accelerating. Your nerves were on edge, and you did not want to burden Jimin with any additional worries. Making Jimin anxious was punishment enough. Every day, catching a glimpse of Jimin's radiant smile was like a burst of sunshine, flooding your world with a second dose of serotonin. But the thought of not being able to bring that smile to his face or turn it into a beaming grin was gnawing at your insides.

"Hey, ___, I’m so sorry. I’ll be home soon! I’m just out with Namjoon and Hobi!" Jimins' amplified voice, together with the distant chatter in the background, echoed through the alleyway. "No, Jimin i-"

"It was just- Hobi wanted us to come see designs after work, and naturally we all piled into the bar! We are finishing up now!"

"Jimin, that's not why I'm calling…" You replied with a low tone.

"Huh?? Sorry babe, I can't hear you that well!" You chuckled to yourself at the agonising situation. Oh Jimin..

"Jimin, I fell.."

"Sorry, what was that??"

"I don’t know Jimin. I fell down these steps, and I can't get up. It's so embarrassing. I don't know what to do.."

"Shit. Stay there. I'm coming now. Where are you?" The way Jimin's entire demeanour shifts over the phone, it intimidates the hell out of you.

"I’m just outside that alleyway from my work... Do you know the one?"

"Yes, I do. I’ll be there in five minutes." And with that, Jimin ends the call.

"Fuck. That was my girlfriend. I’m so sorry guys, I have to go" Jimin, on the other hand, was shitting it. Hearing your frightened voice over the phone was enough for him to travel day and night to you.

"Is something wrong?" Namjoon asked, apprehensive. He'd only see Jimin's expression like this when something was seriously wrong.

"I'm not sure, I think she’s hurt. I'll see you guys soon." Jimin said, frantically stuffing all his things in his bag. "Aw, alright, I hope she’s okay," Hoseok chirped.

"I hope so too. Bye!!" And just like that, Jimin literally flew outside the bar door. Foot harsh on the pedal. On his way: to you.

You kept your eyes on the cracks along the walls, waiting for Jimin. In the end, a few people did come by, but you covered it up by sitting on the floor and talking on your phone, and they didn't seem to notice. It's currently quiet as the sun is descending. But eventually you could hear faint, sporadic panting in the distance. It was the said saviour of the day.

"___!! Oh my god, oh my god, are you okay?? What happened?!?" Jimin gasped, looking at you like a precious gem that had cracked.

"I’m alright, just a little stumble. But I can't stand up, and it’s annoying." With a faint chuckle, you replied. You looked up at him, hoping to see his gaze soften and persuade him that it wasn't such a major issue, but his anxious expression didn't fade.

Scrambling towards you, he examined your ankle carefully, gently touching it in the process.

"Hm, I’m not a doctor, but I think maybe you sprained it. We should go to the hospital." He announced it sincerely.

"NO. I mean- no Jimin, no hospital, please; it’s not a big deal."

"Are you sure? I mean, you said you couldn’t even stand up?" It was endearing that Jimin tried to convince you, but because you didn't want to feel even more embarrassed, you simply scowled at him and hoped he understood what you were trying to imply.

"Okay, okay, let’s go home then." Jimin let out a little giggle at your silliness. But he now knew it was time for him to take on the doctor role and oh how Jimin would take that role very seriously. "Right, I need to carry you to the car then, can you try and get on my back?"

Jimin crouched in front of you after turning around. You used your entire upper-body strength to push yourself onto Jimin's back by reaching for his shoulders. His arms came back around and supported you from behind before he stood up and repositioned you.

"You okay?" Jimin asks once again. "Yes. Thank you, Jimin."

You scoot closer to his back, not just so he can carry you, but also so you can embrace him. Jimin carefully made his way back up the steps and onto the busy street, attempting to find his way back to the car park. You felt embarrassed by the many stares so you cuddled your face closer into the back of Jimin's neck.

It felt safe there, and you could smell his perfume's mild flowery scent mingled with the peppermint notes of his shampoo. Oh, how he always smelled so good. You smiled into his neck and pecked him lightly. This elicited a slight chuckle from him.

Jimin gently places you in the passenger seat and carefully rearranges your legs. He tightens the seatbelt and ensures you're safe and secure. You glance up at him, speechless. After the manner in which he's been treating you, the decision to call him for assistance felt extremely justifiable. As your gaze lingers on Jimin, he catches your eye, and a soft chuckle escapes his lips once more.

"Is this okay?" Jimin asked with a grin. "Yes, Jimin, this is perfect." As your gaze met his, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. The way he looked at you with such tenderness and affection was a feeling beyond words. To have someone who cherished you so deeply was truly a gift beyond measure. A rosy hue crept up Jimin's cheeks, causing his smile to widen even further.

Closing your door and driving back to the house was quite quiet, but it also felt soothing and safe at the same time. Jimin carried you on his back once again while fumbling to retrieve his keys from his pocket to open the door. Making his way to the sofa, he plopped you down softly.

"Okay, wait there. Don't go anywhere; I’m going to find a bandage." You laughed and shook your head at his stupid yet endearing joke.

When Jimin returned 10 minutes later, he did not only return with a bandage but also with half the house. Blankets, pillows, comfy clothes, a big bowl of snacks, and on top, the said bandage. You couldn’t even see his concentrated face through the massive mountain of love.

Your laughs echoed throughout the room once again while Jimin dumped everything beside you. He then carefully helps you undress into your loungewear and, following a YouTube tutorial, attempts to wrap the bandage around your foot. Watching him all focused on you made your heart flip around the room. He is so adorable.

"Okay, I think that’s good. Now do you want a pillow under your foot as well?" Jimin asked you politely. "I think it’s alright like this." You look at him, smiling.

"Hm, scratch that, I’m getting you a pillow."

When Jimin returns from getting a pillow, he gently lifts your feet to place it beneath them. He then throws various fluffy blankets over you while tucking in the sides, making sure once again that you don’t go anywhere. Looking back at you, he moves in close, giving you a soft peck on your forehead. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he momentarily retreats before leaning back in, peppering your face with a flurry of playful kisses. The two of you erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, your heads thrown back in pure love and joy.

"Now what should I put on the TV for you?" Jimin sits beside you after grabbing the TV remote. "Anything I don’t mind."

Jimin then proceeds to put on your favourite film. Pressing play; he looks at you with a soft smile. "Please be more careful; I hate seeing you hurt like this." He pats your head gently while wrapping his arm around you.

"I’ll try not to Jimin ''. You say as you move closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Paying close attention to the rest of the movie, your sixth sense tells you Jimin isn't watching it at all; he's staring at your ankle, hoping nothing will hurt it any further.

[applebinnie]

▶︎˗ˏˋ zom-baby >< ´ˎ˗

𖦹 prologue 𖦹 ▶︎next part

ᯤ zombie!Anton ᯤ

→ zombies were always known as brutal, vile creatures. You always thought they were gross and scary, especially having to instantly pulverize every zombie that comes your way can be sickening to even think of. But when you were greeted by an unwanted visitor, it didn't seem too bad. After all, what could go so wrong with a girl and a zombie?

warnings: mention of monsters (zombies!), I'm vv mid at writing and it's my first time writing in eng so please reduce your expectations to ground level 😭

💭: hi gais!! the idea came to me while I was watching the odd family and I was debating whether I should make this inspired by tof or disney's zombies bcs I LOVE both films but I decided to write this one first :') also, this isn't really a significant part, i jst dk how to begin this series so you can skip to part 1. But if you want to know more about the mc (you!) then definitely recommend reading this first!

☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎

What if the world was to plunge to the bottom, finally succumbing to the deadly virus that turns human beings into brainless, brutal, flesh eating monsters. such scenarios kept yo up at night. The idea of a dead man rising to their grave just to hunt and feed on functioning human brains has always terrified you. you always thought of the living conditions, the lack of food, water, and all that. but along with the concept of zombies is the concept of a half-zombie. They are the undead, or atleast half-dead. as you grew up, with your fear of zombies came a strange fascination to it.

Among the plethora of z-films that featured blood baths and a ferrocious amount of unwanted bites to the head, there were light, comedic z-films with a common trope: Romance.

It usually features a half-zombie, or a half-dead. Rare species of the undead that have the ability to recognize humans and restrain their appetite. You always wondered what their love interest saw in them, even thinking of giving them a kiss after seeing them mutilate and bite someone's limbs off. It was bizarre, but perhaps it's the irony of the situation that made you feel less scared of them. Zombies are gross, gooey creatures with not a single coherent thought, why would you even think of falling in love with one?

You slowly close your laptop after finishing all the work, and decided to lay back and find a nice show to watch. You grab on to your blanket, and click on a light, relaxing show. Growing up with a fascination for monster macabre can be mind-twisting, so consuming light and fun media once in while is refreshing. You were watching a film where a magic powder dust from a power petal turns any person who inhales it into a cat. It was sort of like an alarming potential apocalypse if you squint, but it happened only within the borders of a small town, unnoticed by the world. You think back, what if something like that were to happen in the real world? Who would be the first ones to notice? For sure it would be those who have keen eyes and a strong intuition, like the film's hero. But then again, there is no way something like that could happen in real life.

You are moving soon, to a place much more peaceful than where you are now, perhaps you can clear your mind, free from unwanted thoughts, or even more—unwanted memories.

▶︎next part

☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎ ☠︎︎

rlly shitty start but idk how to begin this piece (╥_╥) part 1 is much much more coherent than this, but I'm still posting this either way just because raghraghragh if you did read this sorry this took so long :( and thank you smsmsm for reading ily guys so much mwap mwap mwap (´ ε ` ) - val 🧸

[knichii]

OK. does anyone else feel irritated that eng dub seems to be favoured in mha? in edits, in fics, it's clear most people watched dub and idk it's been rlly grinding my gears.

okay, to get this out the way, I don't like mha's eng dub. I don't like any of them. half don't fit their characters, 75% of the time the tone lands forced and awkward, and its literally just unbearable for me to watch I'm sorry. I have this issue with a lot of anime and cartoons so this isn't solely a my hero problem, but this is definitely the most severely I've disliked a dub. and yet I cannot escape it.

one of my biggest issues is the nuance that's lost in translation. anyone with any familiarity with the Japanese language will know what I mean. list of examples:

HONORIFICS

1. iida refers to class 1-A with '-kun'

2. yaoyorozu refers to class 1-A with '-san'

3. asui refers to class 1-A with '-chan'

3. deku with '-kun' (m) & '-san' (f)

that says SO MUCH about their characters, how they view their relationships, how they view themselves,, but in dub?? all of that's lost. ESP the significance of deku still calling bkg 'kacchan'. [simplified, '-chan' is used for cute/endearing things. it stemmed from children mispronouncing '-san', and became a childish, cutesy way of calling someone, usually someone you're VERY familiar with. it implies a shocking ammount of intimacy] thru years of bullying, all the rocks and straight up non existent road of their relationship, deku STILL calls him 'kacchan', the ONLY one allowed to do so ("but kaminari--" NEENAWNEENAWNEENAW).

in eng dub it gets reduced to a mere nickname, lacking all of its weight.

another thing is bakugou sub vs dub (...)

URGGGGGGHHHH

the most recent example is when bkg says "of course you pulled it off, Icyhot." (I forgot the context tho) in sub, he says "of course you pulled it off, TODOROKI".

THATS SUCH A NICHE, SUBTLE WAY OF SHOWING HIS DEVELOPMENT THATS TOSSED STRAIGHT OUT THE WINDOW. translation (manga) also has him calling his seniors 'senpai' which is... not what he says in sub????? 'senpai' indicates respect for someone your senior,,,, which. bkg would never show. (or only in EXTREMELY rare cases, MAYBE)

there's also my peeve abt names. this may be an only me issue, but I don't like it when japanese names are written in western format (e.g Izuku Midoriya)... ("this guy cannot be fr rn" unfortunately yes I am). I don't have a reason for this, and I'm aware it's niche and irrational, but I always cringe a little when I'm reading a fic, that's SET IN JAPAN, and their names are written Given Name, Family Name. emphasis on SET IN JAPAN. THEY ARE JAPANESE. THEY ARE NOT AMERICAN.

bkg's hero name. his og one which was translated to King Explosion Murder, losing all of the wit and cleverness in the jp original. this post goes into more detail and is very cool check it out

slightly irrelevant but bkg's jp va, Okamoto Nobuhiko, like. wow. the bkdk fight? the voice cracks? the ANGUISH?? the softness in his voice when bkg was abt to die (the hallucination w all might) ??? like,, wow. the emotion is so much more raw than it's conveyed in eng

I've gotten off point. point is I WISH MORE PEOPLE APPRECIATED AND WATCHED IN JP SUB. IM SCREAMING INTO THE VOID AND MY OWN VOICE IS ECHOING BACK I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE.

(note: jjk was my first anime fandom so I'm probably spoiled. over there, sub seems to be favoured, barring a few iconic lines [ray chase lwk served as sukuna in the shibuya arc] and the fics, like 70% of the ones I read, used japanese honorifics and culture. in comparison, mha was a bit of a shock. the side of the fandom I washed up on is so... American??? maybe I'm in the wrong place idk. everything's just extremely white and slightly uncomfortable.)

this was a bit of a vent post,, obviously ik people are entitled to opinions (even if they're wrong), I js wanted tk if anyone else felt the same way

reading this back, I'm aware of how chronically online I am. yeah. still tho

[ukranianacearo]

"Mother", a strong word

Part 1 Part 3

Fem!Reader

Word count: 558

Mentions of Innocent zero's original name

TW: mention of [Y/N]

Pairing: romantically none, but reader had to marry Innocent zero

Tag: @makima1345

Genre: fluff I guess

Author's note: It's preferably to read part 1 first, because most of the lore is already explained there and I'm not a parrot to repeat it all over again. Someone wanted a part 2 so here it is😭 probably will write mash x reader fanfic soon, (probably gn or fem) and reader will have the same powers as here and a similar background, I think

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

The room was in complete silence. Which was awkward. You were sitting in the nursery's bed, your back against the headboard of the bed. Mash, who just came in, was standing in front of the bed's feet. Never you would think that it would be so awkward to talk to your own son, but here you are.

- "Um, hello, Mash. I'm [Y/N], your biological mother. You can call me whatever you're comfortable with. Also, sorry for letting Cyril, I mean, Innocent zero hunt you down for sport and almost kill you and your loved ones. Please, sit down. " - Saying that you patted the chair next to the bed you're sitting on.

- "M'kay." - This was getting really awkward. You didn't know what to say, but still tried to act calm. - "Why did you join him in the first place?" - You didn't expect such a question from him. Although, maybe you did. It wasn't too surprising after all.

- "To secure my own survival." - Your answer was in a soft voice, just like a mother's one should be. Mash was silent for a few moments, seemingly thinking about your answer. Then, he replied.

- "Didn't you have another choice? I heard people liked you back then." - You laughed lightheartedly at his words; he really didn't know as much as you thought. At first, you thought that Wahlberg or someone else told him about your persona, about how you are such a bad, lying, manipulative witch. But even if someone did, Mash seemed unbothered.

- "Silly, they didn't like me as a person. They liked what they say, what I gave them, what I showed them; they liked the happy and positive mage not the torn out lack magic who all can do is steal magic and throw punches. Innocent zero knew me, the actor, and not the character of the play. While he didn't plan to reveal it, enjoying the show too much, he also wouldn't try to help me in a dire situation unless I helped him." - You said calmly with a soft smile. He seemed to process the information, but there was some sort of lag in his brain halfway through. Before you could explain it again in simpler terms, someone barged into the room. It was a young boy, the same age as Mash, with pink hair and pink dull eyes. You knew it was Domina from the pink necklace, very similar to your own necklaces in design, around his neck. Domina looked agitated, as if he just run a marathon; he looked distressed and as if looking for something. When he finally spotted you sitting on the bed with Mash by your sight he had a complicated expression on his face. It revealed relief, doubt, nervousness, excitement and much more. He started slowly walking towards the bed you were sitting on and Mash seemed calm at his appearance.

- "Oh, hi Domina." - Mash said casually as he looked at Domina who stood already next to the bed, probably on the verge of tears as you looked at him with soft eyes and a smile, just like a mother should. It was the first time he felt so loved even without knowing the person personally well. You guys really had a whole bunch to talk about...

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

I'm sorry it's so short compared to the first part, but I just couldn't wrap my head about how would Mash react😔 maybe, I'll do headcanons, like, post-""Mother", a strong word" but idk. Hope you enjoyed and take care of yourself! <3

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

The Boyfriend Experience - Ch.2

Author's Note: I'm sorry this took me like 289380 billion years to finish. I hope you guys like it

Word Count: 5.9 k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Depression, loneliness, isolation, negative thoughts and emotions but fluff to make up for it

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto other sites or social medias. This work is my own and it is owned by me.

Nothing was happening. At this point, you thought Eddie had forgotten all about his ‘Boyfriend Experience’ proposal. Since that night in your apartment, Eddie hadn’t done anything. You had both seen each other, too. So it wasn’t for the lack of being around one another. Once a week the party gets together to hang out. Sometimes it was a movie night, sometimes an excursion to do other activities depending on the season. It was getting closer to fall. The heat was starting to break and cool down more and more in the daytime, staying nice and chill in the evening. You loved this transition into fall. All the things of comfort that you loved. Comfort food, soft blankets and scary movies. It made you happy. However, you also found yourself thinking of Eddie. When you curled up on your couch with a horror movie on and some good food, your mind wandered to how nice it would be to have someone with you. Before, it used to be a vague idea of a ‘someone’. Just wanting another body next to yours, enjoying the same things that you enjoyed. But now? Now all you could think about was the warm smell of Old Spice and brown curls out of the corner of your eye. 

Your hope that you had shamefully attached to Eddie without him knowing was starting to dwindle fast. The more time that passed without him bringing up his plan or doing much of anything with you made that hope fade and fizzle out. Eddie was still nice to you, of course. Like he always had been. He talked to you, included you in the conversation with the group when you grew quiet and off to the side. He even gifted you a little affection when in front of the others. It dawned on you one day that he probably didn’t want to do anything because of the others being around. Of course, it made sense! Why would he want everyone to know he had done something with you? Kissed you? It all made sense now. Even if a small voice at the back of your mind said Eddie wasn’t that type of guy. But you weren't the one most wanted. 

You went through phases like the one you were in now. You were fine with being alone a lot. You had been and felt alone for most of your life. Not many friends, no romantic partners, and just faded into the background. You grew accustomed to loneliness. However, every now and again, you yearn. You yearn for companionship. Wherever you could get it. You once again found yourself in that position. Yearning. As you scrolled on your phone, you saw a few Instagram posts from friends, liking and commenting on some things. You chuckled as you spotted a photo of Nancy and Jonathan looking at puppies in a pet store. You transitioned to your messaging app, texting Nancy asking if she and Jonathan were planning on getting a puppy now that they lived together. After a few more minutes of scrolling, you decided to set down your phone and get some chores done.

You spent time dutifully cleaning your apartment. You always felt better when your place was clean. Too cluttered with mess made you feel like you coudn’t think or focus. However, you decided to take a break from running around busting your ass and sat down with some water, picking up your phone. You went to see if Nancy texted you back since you had texted her a while ago. No new messages. You opened up your text to Nancy.

Read: 2:17 pm

You looked at the time on your phone. 5:45 pm. You deflated, setting your phone aside. ‘Maybe she’s just busy’, you tried to rationalize. But the tiny voice in the back of your mind told you otherwise. No, she just didn’t care enough to answer. You sighed, going back to Instagram seeing another recent post from Nancy. So she was on her phone. You tossed your phone across the couch. To anyone else, this wouldn’t be a big deal. You were being too sensitive, you tried to tell yourself. You took the pillow from behind your back and shoved it on top of your phone as if it would somehow silence the bad thoughts swirling in your head. 

When things like this happened, you knew it was time to step away. If you continued the way you were, you would only get hurt. So you ignored your phone for the evening. Sometimes, that helped, but sometimes it didn’t do much to ease the thoughts swirling in your mind. Instead, you tried to stay positive. The next day, you decided to venture out of your home. You got dressed in something that made you feel comfortable. A large black hoodie, some black leggings and your red boots. Large and comfy, not wanting to feel self conscious today in any way. You found yourself wandering back to Family Video to rent some movies. When you walked inside, Steve and Robin weren’t alone.

All the gang, minus the kids, were there talking about something. When you walked in, Eddie was the first one to look up and see you. You smiled softly at him and wandered over to the horror movie section. Seconds later, Eddie was there.

“Hey, sweetheart.” he greeted, leaning against the shelf of movies.

“Hey, Eddie. How’s it goin?” you asked as you pulled a few movies from the shelf.

“Pretty good. Work’s keeping me busy,” he sighed, “But money is good. Means I can do more fun things.”

“Oh yeah? Like that?”

He grinned. “Spend it on something or someone I care about.” He shrugged, as if his answer meant nothing.

You looked at him, raising a brow before frowning. “If you think you’re gonna be spending any money on me, put that back in your head.” you warned, and Eddie sighed dramatically.

“C’mon, babe.” he murmured and moved closer. “Can’t treat my best girl to something?” Best girl. His best girl.

You shook your head. “You’re a ham, Eds.” you told him, bumping your shoulder with his as you head back to the counter. You placed the old movie you rented on the counter, adding the new ones to be rung up, too. Steve jumped to take care of your movies.

“So we can all leave here by six tomorrow? Should make it there on time. Maybe get a motel for the night?” Nancy suggested to the group, the others nodding along.

“There something going on?” you asked them.

Eyes turned to you as Nancy nodded. “We’re heading to the city to go and check out this club.” She answered.

“You’re all going?” you asked, glancing around the group as the others confirmed they were going. “Oh,” you murmured and silence followed.

“We know clubbing isn’t exactly your thing. That’s why we didn’t invite you.” Steve supplemented when the awkwardness began to kick in. You thanked whatever god was out there that you managed to control your face quick enough when you realized everyone was looking at you. You felt the ache in your chest of being excluded. Clubbing wasn’t Jonathan’s thing either, yet he was invited. Eddie didn’t like clubbing either unless it was somewhere that played music he liked. Yet, he was invited. You managed to school your face into a neutral expression. Neither happy nor sad. Just nothing. You felt the familiar burn of tears threatening to make themselves known and averted your eyes to the top of the counter. You dug into your pocket and handed your money to Steve. This was the second time now you’ve come into Family Video and had your feelings hurt. Maybe next time you’d rent somewhere else…

“Have fun.” you murmured with a small smile, taking your movies and swiftly exiting the store. You didn’t make it very far before tears gathered on your lash line. You got to your car and pulled open the door, sliding into the driver's seat and tossing the movies into the seat beside you. You took a long, shaky breath and turned the ignition. You saw the door to Family Video open up, Eddie stepping outside. You already pulled out of the parking spot, turning and heading back to your house before you could even think about what Eddie wanted. He most likely was stepping out for a smoke since Steve had had to yell at him in the past for trying to smoke in the store.

—----------------------------------------

Eddie was trying to take things slowly. He realized with his proposal that he might have come on too strongly. He didn’t want to scare you. No, he wanted this to work out well. Not scare you off before he gets the chance to get close to you. So he kept a little distance. He hadn’t meant to be as distant as he was as work took over his life. He wanted to see you. He missed you. He cherished it when he’d get to see you at least once a week at group functions. Eddie was invited to Family Video by Steve, something about plans they were making. So he had gotten dressed and hopped into his van, driving over to Family Video. When he walked inside, he saw everyone but you and felt the disappointment take hold at not seeing you standing with everyone else. He wandered up to the counter and scrunched his nose hearing a club mentioned. The only time Eddie liked going to clubs was if they played the music he liked to listen to. He wasn’t fond of the usual shit the clubs played. He’d go just to have some overpriced drinks and smoke inside, but otherwise he had no stake in it. He agreed to going, assuming that you had also been invited but weren’t here to make plans for it. You usually went along with whatever plan was made beforehand. 

When the door opened and the bell went off, Eddie looked over and grinned at seeing you walk inside. Of course, as soon as you broke off to go look at movies, he followed after you. He hadn’t seen you in two days, not that he was counting. He walked with you back to the counter and when you had asked what was going on; it hit him that you weren’t in on the plans to go to a club in the city. The second that ‘Oh’ left your lips, he wanted to hug you. Hearing the sad tone was enough to crack his heart. At Steve’s words, Eddie couldn’t help the prickle of annoyance in his chest. They knew he didn’t like clubbing either, but they had invited him. He knew the last time you all went to a club you had practically stuck to whoever was closest to you, not wanting to be left alone with all the drunk strangers. 

Then Eddie saw it. 

He had been looking at you and after Steve’s words he saw the flash of hurt on your face. It was in your eyes and on your face for all of half a second. Then he saw your face melt into indifference. Nothing shows on your face to betray your feelings. He just watched you go stone cold in seconds to cover how you felt. But he knew. He saw it. He saw the hurt and rejection. Even your tone as you told them to have fun held no emotion in it. The smile you offered was one to throw them off. Then you were gone. Eddie watched your retreating back and he looked back at the others. They seemed none the wiser. Eddie knew that they had good intentions. That they didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. However, he couldn’t shake the feeling he got seeing you school your features to not let the others in on how you were feeling. Eddie moved without thinking and without explanation, pushing the door open of Family Video just in time to see you pull away from the store. He wanted to jump out in front of your car. Anything to make you not run off from them. From him. But Eddie watched you go. Standing out there in the parking lot was when Eddie decided he would not be going tomorrow evening. No, he couldn’t do that to you. Instead, he headed back inside to let the group know he was bailing on them. Citing something more important that he had to do and ignoring the looks from Jonathan and Nancy as they glanced at one another.

The next evening was when Eddie’s plan came into action. He knew you well enough, listened to you well enough to know you would be at home in comfy clothes, keeping to yourself. So Eddie packed himself an overnight bag and headed to your place. It was sunset, and he knew you were home. He was happy to see your car parked outside your apartment and quickly made his way to your door. He could hear you inside. It sounded like you were cooking something. He knocked on the door a couple of times. When the door opened, he grinned at the sight of you. You were in a hoodie, hair pulled into a messy bun at the top of your head. Your sweatpants were baggy and tied around your hips like you had bought mens sweatpants and were unable to keep them up. Orange socks with jack-o-lantern faces on the tops of your feet poked out from the legs of your sweatpants. 

“What’s cooking?” Eddie asked, smelling something savory coming from your kitchen.

—--------------------------------

It was homemade chicken noodle soup. A comfort food for you. After the past few days, you were ready to just take time for yourself. Sometimes a self care day just makes you feel the tiniest bit better. So you planned a good meal, a bath, skin care and lots of comfort. You had chopped up all your vegetables. The usual carrots, celery, onion and garlic go into the pot. You seasoned your chicken bone broth with thyme and a sizable bay leaf. You always made more soup than one person probably needed. Usually getting a couple of bowls out of it, but you didn’t care. You had put all your veggies into the broth to simmer to soften the veggies and get some good flavor into them. You shredded up some chicken, noodles already ready to throw into the soup when it was finished. A movie played in the background as you tossed some garlic bread into the oven. Jack was just touring the hotel he would be working in for the winter. You smiled softly as you moved to your coffee table, lighting up a candle and going back to the kitchen for a drink when you heard a knock on the door. You stopped mid-stride. You certainly weren’t expecting anybody since all your friends had gone into the city to that club and you had no other friends. You frowned and approached the door carefully before leaning up on your toes for the peephole. Despite the fact that the thing was murky as hell, you could always recognize the mop of brown curls on the other side. You quickly opened the door, staring up at Eddie. At his question, you opened your mouth and closed it again. Why was he here? Shouldn’t he be with everyone else? Your eyes drifted to the bag on his shoulder. 

“Uh, chicken noodle soup and garlic bread.” You answered, stepping back to let Eddie inside. He moved inside like you had expected him. There was a dull thud as his bag hit the floor. Eddie crouched down and opened up his bag, pulling out clothes. You blinked, slowly backing up into the kitchen, a little more confused now. You opened the fridge and poured yourself some water. “Water or beer?” You called out.

“Water!”

You grabbed another glass and poured Eddie some water. You shuffled back to the living room and stopped short seeing Eddie changing in the middle of your living room. “Uhh, Eds?” you tilted your head to the side. His pale skin contrasted his tattoos well. Black ink against alabaster skin portraying things Eddie had drawn up himself. Unique art on a unique human being. For never being a jock, Eddie had muscle. You’d seen the amplifiers he had picked up before, so you knew his arms were muscular before you even got this chance to ogle them. He had a little waist and a tiny bit of pudge on his stomach. It was funny to you in that moment that you admired his tummy, but you hated your own. You wanted to poke at his tummy and hug him, feel the warmth of his skin against yours and the contours of his body.

“What’s so funny?”

You moved your eyes from Eddie’s chest to his amused face. “Nothing,” you murmured and held out the glass to him.

Eddie took the glass and took a sip before humming and shaking his head. “Nope, something was definitely funny. Was it something about my chest? You were staring pretty hard.”

Your face immediately grew warm knowing that he had caught you staring at him. “I-”

“You can stare all you want, sweetheart. Take a picture if you want, too.” Eddie set his glass down and reached for his belt, undoing it faster than you had ever seen someone unbuckle and remove a belt from their person. He popped the button on his jeans next.

“Soup! Gonna… soup.” You half shouted, half mumbled before retreating into the kitchen quickly. You removed the lid from the pot and stared down into your soup as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

When you finally got your breathing under control and you stopped picturing Eddie taking his belt off in your living room, you returned to your task of making dinner. You pulled the garlic bread from the oven and dumped the egg noodles into the pot. You reached up to grab some bowls, but another pair of hands stopped you in your tracks. Eddie grabbed the bowls, chest pressed to your back. He grabbed two of them and two small plates for the garlic bread, then set them on the counter. You swallowed thickly and wondered if he had put a shirt on. You turned your head and discovered that he hadn’t. You wiggled around until you faced him. Eddie smiled, placing his hands on the counter and trapping you in. “Not cold?” you murmured softly.

Eddie shook his head. “No, not cold,” he murmured back. One of his hands moved to your hip before sliding behind to slide up into your hoodie, touching your back. 

You stared up at him, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. He stared back at you and you watched as his eyes wandered from your eyes, then down to your lips. As he leaned in, you reached up and placed your hand on his jaw, your thumb resting on his lips. “Hold on, before you distract me,” you chuckle, feeling his lower lip jut out a little under your thumb in a pout. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the city?”

Eddie’s face shifted at your inquiry. No longer pouting, he now looked a bit sad and you thought you might have hurt his feelings by making it seem like you didn’t want him there. You moved your thumb off of his lip to let him speak. “I guess? But I knew you weren’t going and I wasn’t going to go without you…” he murmured. You watched his face for a moment. He looked like he had more to say to you and you hoped your silence would soon egg him on. You nodded your head a little. “How did you do that?” he finally asked quietly after a few moments of silence. 

“Do what?”

“You shut off.” You raised a brow at that. Shut off? Shut off what? “In the store the other day, Steve mentioned why they didn’t invite you. You looked upset for half a second, sweetheart, then… nothing. Like it never happened. I watched you just kinda… shut off?”

Oh. “You noticed that?” you whispered and Eddie nodded. His fingers soothingly rubbed the skin of your back. 

“Yeah, I noticed that.” he answered, “What was that?”

You didn’t want to tell him. You’d learned sometimes it was far better hiding your feelings than making other people ‘deal with’ them. You didn’t want to bother anyone with your emotions. “It was nothing, really.” you waved it off but Eddie was stubborn and you knew this. So it didn’t surprise you when he shook his head. 

“No, no. Not nothing. C’mon. Boyfriend time. Be honest with me and how you feel.” 

You sighed. There was only so long you could go with this and you knew this. Eddie was persistent when he wanted to be. Your hands moved to his chest before settling down at his waist. “I just… hid it.” you murmured with a small shrug as if it was nothing.

“Hid it?”

“My reaction. How I felt.”

“Why?”

The simple question in and of itself stopped you. You knew why but you also knew for some people it probably was a hard thing to grasp. You took a breath and sighed. “Because it’s better to tuck it away than to let people know you’re upset. So they don’t get upset that you’re upset and have to deal with how you… I, feel.” you murmured your explanation, distracting yourself with the tattoos inked into Eddie’s chest instead of looking up at his face. “It happens. Especially when I’ve had a rough week. It just… feels easier to tuck it away for the time being.”

“And what happens when it doesn’t stay hidden away?” Eddie practically whispered his question like he was afraid of the answer.

“You wouldn’t want to see that when it happens. It isn’t pretty.”

“I’m not here for just the pretty.” 

Your eyes moved up to his face. “Yeah?” your voice cracked a little and you resisted the urge to ask why he had waited all week to kiss you then if that was how he felt. Why he didn’t want to in front of everyone else. It never occurred to you that it might be for your comfort and not his own.

“Talk to me,baby. Tell me what’s happened this week.” Eddie murmured, pressing closer to you. His lips met your forehead in a soothing touch as you took a shaky breath. 

“I just felt…” your lips closed again. It was nerve wracking just telling someone plainly how you felt. How you hurt.

“Go on,”

“I felt ignored this week,” you admitted softly.

“By who?” Eddie asked, pulling back so he could see your face now.

“Nancy was first. Reached out and she left me on read that’s all… there was also what happened at Family Video the other day. You and Jonathan got invited to the club and I know it isn’t my scene but it isn’t yours either but you guys got invited. Then,” you stopped. The last thing had been Eddie. Not hearing from him since the first night he was there at your apartment with you and when he did see you he had acted as if none of this was happening. It made you feel a way you didn’t want to feel again.

Eddie was too observant in his day to day life but sitting there watching your face intently as you spoke he knew not just from your trailing off into silence that there was something else but he could see it in your eyes. He gave your side a gentle squeeze as if to pull you back to him. “Then,” he murmured softly.

Your eyes moved back up to Eddie’s face. You were afraid to hurt his feelings and the urge to tell him that it was nothing was strong. The way Eddie watched you made you feel like you should just tell him. If you didn’t, you risked him acting as if nothing had ever happened again. It felt almost like being used. “I know this isn’t real.” you started, “but you… I just hardly saw you this week and I know I’m probably overthinking it like the idiot I am but I didn’t see you for so long and then we finally have a party gathering and… I don’t know. I expected something, I guess.” 

“Something? Can you give me more details?” he asked, his other hand now moving to cradle the back of your head.

Band aid. Just rip it off. “Did you not want to kiss me in front of everyone else? It’s because it’s me, isn’t it?” you practically rush out. 

The look on Eddie’s face has your face growing warm with embarrassment. The shock written on his face at your words like he almost couldn’t believe you had asked him that. “No! No, Y/N. It’s not because it’s you. How could you… Fuck, babe. I’d kiss you in front of all of them but I didn’t for you. Not because of you. I didn’t wanna scare you off and I also didn’t want everyone to have a million questions especially cause I had no idea what you were thinking after last week. Trust me, if I thought I could get away with it I’d make out with you in front of all of them and risk whatever would be thrown at us to make us stop.” Eddie chuckled, tucking a piece of your hair back into your bun that attempted an escape. You pouted, lightly swatting his side as he mentioned making out with you in front of the others. It made sense what he was saying. If no one else knew of your ‘arrangement’ it might seem weird it happened. Besides that, one moment you both were just friends and the next you were all over one another? You supposed it wasn’t far off. “I know you’re also not huge on public displays of affection.” Eddie added on.

You shrugged your shoulders. That was actually due in part to being on your own. Being so lonely, yearning what other people had and those experiences sometimes made it hard to see people lavish affection on one another. It usually brought on a bitter feeling and thoughts about how you would never know what that would feel like. It was better not to see it than to see it and crave what you couldn’t have. You pressed your face to Eddie’s chest and sighed, taking in his warmth. “More like jealousy than anything else,” you mumbled your confession against his skin. You’d never been this close to a shirtless man before. 

“Jealousy, huh?” Eddie hummed and you could hear the smirk in his tone. “Might just have to make out with you on our first public date outting. Movies? Go real old school with it.”

“Not really old school like Skull Rock or Lovers Lake?” you tease and rested your chin on his chest.

“Oooh, you wanna go really old school, huh?” Eddie laughed and nodded his head, “We can do that.” 

You felt a little better having talked it out with Eddie. The conversation didn’t go deeper after that, but even the little that you had touched on felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Eddie made you feel validated. Not that your feelings were unimportant in any way. Sometimes you knew what was upsetting you could be ridiculous and was linked to a deeper problem at the time but it was nice just to be heard. There were multiple reasons why someone might not answer their phone or decide they will answer later and just forget. You sometimes just got into these depressive episodes where it felt like everything was the issue. The smallest thing was blown up in your mind because your mind was telling you these negative things. It was why you found nights like these helpful. A good meal, some movies and self care could sometimes knock you into a good headspace to start fresh again.

After your conversation, you and Eddie took your food into the living room. You both eat in silence as you watch the movie. Every now and again, Eddie makes a comment on the film or your cooking. When the food was finished and the rest put up, you sat on the couch and knew you should move on to your other parts of the evening before it got too late. Eddie dramatically draped himself over your legs as you stretched out on your couch. He wriggled his way up until his head rested on your stomach. “So, what else do you do on these cozy nights of yours?” Eddie asked, eyes glued to the TV.

“I do some skincare, have a good bath or shower. Get all pretty and soft skinned.” you answered as you began playing with his hair. It then occurred to you that Eddie was there. You moved your hand to his face, feeling his cheek before feeling his forehead then his nose. 

“Sweetheart… what are you doing?”

You giggle at his question and shrug. “Feeling your face compared to your T-zone.” you answer as if it was obvious.

“My what zone?” Eddie lifted his head to look at you.

“Your T-zone.” you poked his forehead, running your finger across his forehead, then down the bridge of his nose to form a T. “Some people are more oily in their T-zone. I was curious about your face. Do you wanna join me?”

“Are you gonna touch my zones again?”

“I’m gonna touch all over your face. Maybe your neck too.” you laughed. If you really wanted to you could spoil him by laying him down and giving him the full treatment. “Shower first though.”

Eddie immediately grinned. “Are we gonna shower together?” he wiggled his brows at you.

“I think it’s a tad early for you to see me naked.”

“Damn it.” Eddie sighed dramatically, “... you can still see me naked though.”

“You almost did show me. Remember?”

“Oh yeah… where did I throw that belt?”

—--------------------------------

Both of you took separate showers. Once you were clean, you had set out your stuff on your night table and sat on your bed. Eddie laid down on your bed with his head resting in your lap. You already had a face mask on and had diligently pulled Eddie’s hair back, strapping a headband onto him to keep his hair at bay from his face.

“So this is supposed to be good for you?” Eddie asked, eyes closed as you picked things up off of your bedside table.

“Yes, Eddie. It’s good for you.” you laughed as you wet Eddie’s face. You squirted some of your face wash into your hands and lathered it up before starting to clean Eddie’s face. You made sure to massage the cleanser into his skin. A small smile tugged at your lips feeling Eddie’s body relax further as you massaged his face. Once it was clean, you took a damp towel and wiped the cleanser off.

“Tranquilizer fingers over here.” Eddie mumbled quietly. You hummed as you started to paint a mask onto his face. “Oooh, what the fuck, is this normal?” Eddie asked, chocolate eyes open and turned up towards you.

“What’s happening?” you asked him with a frown.

“My face is tingly. Is my face gonna fall off?” his eyes were wide, concerned for the state of his face.

“Does it tingle or burn like a sunburn?”

“Tingle. It doesn’t hurt.”

You laughed and shook your head. “That’s normal, babe. If it burned then no.” you reassured him, smoothing more of the mask over his face.

“Oh thank god. My beautiful face,” he sighed dramatically. “So this relaxing stuff, you do it often?”

You nodded your head. “It helps me relax. Forget about everything that happens when it’s a bad day. Makes me feel fresh and renewed in a way. Relaxed, too.” you explained with a small shrug.

“Do you masturbate on these nights too?” Eddie chuckled, “Sounds like it’d go well together.”

You roll your eyes and nod. “Yeah, perv. That goes hand in hand too.” you laugh, gently tugging on his hair. 

Eddie managed to let you finish doing a face mask on him followed by putting some hair products into his hair. You even managed to paint his nails for him. Black, of course. At the end of the night when the beauty products were put away and the dishes cleaned, Eddie crawled into bed with you. You curled up beside him, snuggling close to him as he turned the night table lamp off. You listened to his heart beat. You took a breath and shut your eyes.

“Eddie,”

“Hm?”

“Thank you for spending time with me tonight.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything for you.”

—---------------------------------

It was still chilly. You were thankful for it. You had been watching your curtains blowing from the breeze coming through the open window for a while now. You looked over at the clock. It was later than you usually woke up but you had the day off and you currently had a man cuddling you. You found you liked cuddling or maybe you just liked cuddling Eddie. Either way, you were content. His breath fanned over your skin every time he breathed out, very much still asleep. You had entertained the idea of getting up and making coffee but that meant moving from where you were. Comfy and warm under your covers. Eddie’s arms tightened around you as if in his sleep he was telling you not to move either. You laid there just a bit longer.

It was your need for the bathroom that finally made you move. You carefully extracted yourself from Eddie’s hold and grabbed your hoodie from last night, pulling it back on. When you slept it was like a delicate balance of temperatures. Nice and cold inside the room but you couldn’t bundle too much to sleep or you’d grow too hot. You started up some coffee and then started making scrambled eggs with sausage. Just as you were finishing up Eddie stumbled out of the bedroom. You let your eyes linger on Eddie’s shirtless form walking mindlessly towards you.

“Hi,” you laughed as he shuffled towards you.

Eddie grunted, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in. His lips pressed against yours, lingering there, pressing gentle kisses against your lips. You melted against him, kissing him back and deciding this was something you could get used to. When he pulled away you whined quietly at the loss of his lips on yours. “Hi,” Eddie answered, voice gravelly from sleep. “You make me breakfast?” he murmured as his head moved to press his face to your neck. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, rubbing your hands over his back before wrapping your arms around him. “Hungry? Got coffee too.”

“So good to me,” Eddie murmured before lifting his head to kiss you again.

“C’mon,” you laughed, nudging him gently before pulling away to give him a mug.

Eddie took the mug from you and started to make his coffee. Soon the two of you were cuddled up on your couch to enjoy your breakfast together. Sitting there having coffee with Eddie felt good. It was comfortable and you found yourself thinking maybe you could get used to something like this. Maybe, just maybe, this was something you could have.

[devondespresso]

Mr. Crayola Henderson

T | 1791 words | ao3 link | cw: minor ableism from a side character, also they swear, I always forget f-bombs bother some people sorry guys | STWG Prompt: Telling a story to get out of trouble

EDIT: I NEARLY FORGOT thank you @pearynice my beloved for the brainstorming GENIUS and @hairstevington for the sensitivity read! You guys are awesome!! Also thank you @saradika-graphics for making free dividers!!

((little bit of context for extra clarity: this universe is vaguely canon divergent, post season 2. Steve is hoh (hard of hearing) and already adopted by the Hendersons, and in this one they're in the middle of a sort of family reunion/gathering))

Steve went to duck inside the house, holding the door open for Aunt Tracy on her way back out into the backyard where the majority of the gathering was taking place. She smiled and said something, probably just a thank you that he would’ve heard if the batteries in his hearing aids hadn’t died. He smiled back at her and gestured to his ear and she nodded again with a smile that did its best to not be patronizing.

She left and Steve went inside, sighing a little and tried to not hold it against her, the lack of filter seemed to run in the family, but it was moments like that that made him grateful his mom was the most laid-back of the Henderson women.

Steve went over to the media room and dug through the little bin of batteries under the phone, pulling out an opened pack that had just enough left. He took both aids off, changed the batteries, and put them back on to make sure they worked.

He heard a strong thud from his bedroom, followed by muttering.

Steve put the dead batteries down on top of the table and stared at his bedroom door. The muttering escalated to hushed bickering.

Steve walked closer to the door, hearing the bickering more clearly, then opened the door.

Dustin and their cousin Aiden both jumped and turned to look at the door, Dustin relaxing when he saw it was him. Steve paused for a second, looking at both of them crouched on the ground, bright pink paint on their hand and clothes and the carpet around them with no bottle in sight.

Steve leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at Dustin.

“We were just… snooping through your shit. ” Dustin said.

Steve glanced back down at the paint everywhere, and gave him a look.

Dustin just smiled like a little angel, which worked on mom and maybe Steve-from-two-years-ago, but not now.

“Oh no, you found my secret stash of… bubblegum pink paint.” he deadpanned.

“The cheap kiddy bubblegum pink paint.” Dustin corrected, looking down at the carpet. “It’ll wash out.”

“Of course.” He looked over to Aiden, who had relaxed significantly as he realized Steve wasn’t going to blow up on them. “And… why is there totally washable pink paint in my room specifically? Weren’t you guys sticking to dicking around outside to avoid doing stuff like this?”

Aiden opened his mouth to give a better excuse, but Dustin started tapping his shoulder excessively to get his attention.

“He’d help us.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, not arguing because odds were good he’d end up doing something, but he still played it up like he wasn’t already planning to.

Aiden was turned mostly towards Dustin and muttered something he couldn’t catch, throwing a glance at Steve.

“Trust me, this is like a walk in the park compared to–” Dustin said.

“Hardly a fair comparison, man.” Steve interrupted. 

“–compared to the other shit he’s helped me with.”

Aiden thought about it, then glanced towards Steve. “And he's not going to jump ship afterwards and get us in trouble?” 

“Of course not, right Steve?”

Steve looked at the two of them and ran a hand over his face.

“You know step one of not getting in trouble for stupid shit is not starting stupid shit, right?”

Aiden groaned but Dustin agreed immediately, “Yes, 100% understood.”

Dustin elbowed Aiden, and he nodded despite his clear annoyance. 

Dustin smiled and looked at Steve.

He rubbed his temple one last time before throwing his hand down.

“Okay. Step two then.”

Dustin jumped up and shot him a thanks before running around him towards the kitchen. Steve watched him go then turned back to Aiden who looked just as confused.

“What’s he doing?”

“I don't know.” Aiden lied, looking at him curiously, “What's step two?”

“Find me and let me finish the stupid shit.”

“Huh.” 

Dustin came running back with a slice of deli-meat in one hand.

“Dustin, this isn’t looking much better than last time.”

Dustin paused his mad dash for just a second to look at him.

“It’s significantly better, I swear.” he said, then ran to sit back down, dropping the slice of meat on the floor in front of him, and waited.

After a few seconds of nothing, a fuzzy little white face poked out from under his bed. Cautiously, a opossum with pink paint splashed on its back came waddling out. It sniffed at the food given to him, nibbled at it, then opened its mouth as wide as it could to awkwardly chomp at its new snack.

It was a wild animal, Dustin brought in a wild animal inside, during a family gathering with some of the most worry-wart mothers he’s ever met–

But god, the tiny opossum was really fucking cute.

Dustin beamed at the little guy like a proud mom, then up at Steve. Steve shook his head in disbelief and joined them carefully around the opossum. He picked up the deli meat and placing it on his hand to get the little guy used to it.

“You’re crazy, Henderson, you’re fucking crazy.” He grumbled, playing up annoyance to avoid losing his better judgment. 

Dustin said something probably cheeky as hell, but he didn’t catch it.

“One more time.” he said, looking away from the opossum for just a second.

“And what does that make you, Henderson?” Dustin smiled, definitely cheeky.

“Reluctantly, also fucking crazy.” he sighed, shaking his head before moving the deli meat further up his hand to lead little Mr. Opossum onto it.

He lifted Opossum gently, letting it have the rest of the deli meat so he could use two hands to hold it steady. He stood up slowly, and started walking towards the bathroom.

Dustin and Aiden went around him to get the door, lights, and sink ready– apparently, to continue where they left off. There were pink handprints around the edge of the sink and a bottle of dish soap sat next to the hand soap.

“Wow, I wonder what happened here.” Steve deadpanned. He looked over at the both of them, not a hint of guilt in their eyes. “And this is why there aren’t two Dustin Hendersons.” he bitched with no real anger, and set Mr. Opossum down gently in the sink.

 “You mean this is why there aren’t two Aiden Haults.” Aiden said, leaning over the sink.

“Nope, Dustin gets the credit for this one.”

Steve closed the drain to make a pool of water and Opossum gravitated to it immediately, taking a drink before waddling into the pool and almost rolling in the water to get his fur wet.

Steve tried and failed to bite back a smile.

“His name is Sir Crayolan.” Dustin said.

Steve had no choice but to bark out a laugh.

“Sir what?”

“Sir Crayolan.”

“Oh god, I heard you correctly.”

“It’s a great name!”

“You know Sir Crayolan isn't staying, right?”

“Yeah, we were gonna let him go after we washed him, we just–” 

Aiden muttered something and tugged on his sleeve, pointing out the bathroom doorway towards the back door.

Just out of the window, Aunt Tracy was caught in conversation with someone, looking like she was laughing, but clearly stopped just before she was going to come inside. Steve quickly rinsed some of the minimal paint on his fingers, careful not to scare Mr. Crayola or whatever.

“Does she know you’re in here?”

“No, we hid in your room–”

“Good, you guys wash him, carefully and quietly, I’ve got the rest.” He whispered, wiping his hands off on a towel.

“You’re the best, Steve.” Dustin said, giving him a quick side hug to avoid getting paint on him.

“Oh really? I’m gonna need that in writing.” He smiled and Dustin stuck out his tongue. Steve returned the gesture and slipped out of the bathroom, straight across the hall and into his bedroom.

He turned off the lights immediately to hide the pink mess on his floor and waited to hear the front door. 

He heard Aunt Tracy’s laughing rather than the actual door open, heard her wave off whoever it was she was talking to through the door. He took one hearing aid off before he walked out of his room, closing the door behind him. He made his way back to the abandoned dead batteries and put his aid back on, messing with it a little longer than strictly necessary.

“Oh, Steve, there you are. Everything okay?” she said, joining him by the tv room. 

“Yeah, just had to find batteries. What’s up?” 

“Oh yes, well– now, I know I could be overreacting, but I haven’t seen Aiden anywhere for– oh, for god knows how long–”

“He was with Dustin earlier–”

“I know, I know, but they were near those woods weren’t they? And you know there were those missing kids stories–”

“Trust me, I know.” he said, dropping the dead batteries into their battery jar. “I can help you search for them if you want, but I don’t think Dustin’s ever gotten lost. He carries around a compass like it's his wallet. Worst case scenario? They’re messing around in the woods somewhere a little too far away and they’ll come running back once they realize we started eating hotdogs without them.”

“God, you know Claudia said the same thing, I just worry…”

“Ron just lit the grill, right? Let’s give them twenty minutes,” he checked his watch, “Until five… five fifteen-ish. If nobody sees them, I’ll help you look.”

“Twenty minutes, alright, I’ll tell Claudia.” She said, and circled back to the door.

“I’ll join you guys in a second, I’m grabbing a coke.” he called, jutting a thumb back towards the kitchen.

She called something back with a wave and Steve just waved back until she disappeared out the door. He walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a cold can for himself and a diet pepsi for mom, then circled back to the bathroom.

He checked over his shoulder once real quick before tapping on the door and opening his coke.

Aiden answered the door, cracking it open just enough to stand in the doorway.

“You got all that, yeah?”

“Twenty minutes, we’ve been exploring in the woods.”

“Yup. Release your critter out the front door and circle around. I am not joining a search party for you guys today.”

Aiden nodded and gave him an overserious salute. Steve threw a more casual one back.

“Tell Mr. Crayola I said ‘bye’.” he said, then turned around to leave as Dustin came to the opossum’s defense. He hid his smile by taking a sip of his coke, and went back out the door.

(obligatory disclaimer uhhh dont pick up wild opossums please ok thanks guys love ya)

[firefly--bright]

jean kirstein modern headcanons!!!

warnings : none! gender neutral pronouns used, if any.

a/n: HI HELLO I'm so so SO sorry for the late fics. my finals ended like a month ago and oh my god I've just been Going Places™ like my schedule is jam packed with meeting up with people i haven't seen in three months because of the exams :/ I'm working on the requests!!! i promise, i read them and i am working on them. but!!! here are some headacanons to.... make up for the lack of content :3

taglist : @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-ishu-and-a-book

✿ masterlist is in linked in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist ✿

• he doesnt have a big sweet tooth but he LOVES chocolate like can't live without it. if you're also a chocolate person, he'll buy your fav ones for you and lowkey judges you for it ("why would you like this one???? the one i like is wayyy better you should get those")

• he's most definitely a friend's to lovers type guy. he never really thought he would be, though. he's a hopeless romantic and falls in love with anyone and everyone BUT he's also, as mentioned before, more hopeless than romantic. he'll yearn for the person from a distance, so he doesn't really think that he would go and fall in love with his best friend, of all people. you fall first he falls harder type beat yk?

• he's kind of gives off this confident, cocky and kind of intimidating vibe about him. when you first met him you just knew he thought a little too highly of himself. but after getting to know him, he's super vulnerable and soft and actually tries to be close to you. his intimidating Mr. i-fold-my-arms-over-my-chest-to-show-off-my-biceps persona is just a front, like he thinks being that coccky guy will make people think he's like mysterious or something and want to be his friend/partner

• i have a bi jean agenda actually

• thinks VERY highly of you. asks for your advice on everything even if you might not be good at giving it, hed want to know what you, specifically, think

• he's an architecture major :D i know alot of people have diff headcanons of him doing pol-sci/law (which are all valid tbh i agree with those hcs) but!!! i think he chose architecture because he has the right amount of passion for it. it's the closest thing to art he can have. he loves art but he's also aware that it doesn't...pay well, neither does he want to loose his passion for art. hes heard one too many stories of people choosing art and regretting it because their passion for art is no longer just a passion. Jean's scared he'd lose his love for it.

• isn't really used to physical touch, and if you're a touchy feely person, he's a little surprised when you hold him for the first time. he quickly grows into loving your touch tho and initiates cuddles :)

• hes kinda super smart. like he scores really well in class and always has. not only that, but he's gifted athletically as well

• he's more of a listener than a talker, i think. hed initiate conversation, ask you about you day and let you take away the conversation. doesn't really mind if it's "all about you", but if you ask him about anything, he'd gladly talk.

• hes actually SO shy when it comes to actually doing relationshippy things. the first time you held hands as a couple and not just friends, he had a nervous breakdown. he couldn't even look you in the eyes when he asked you out on a date, even if it was just a casual movie night at home

• he's very organized, surprisingly. he's not a clean freak but he just likes knowing where things are. rarely rearranges anything because it not only frustrates the hell out of him, he'd also have to get used to the new arrangements.

• he has a fixed skincare routine!!! he had acne as a teenager so he started taking skincare more seriously. knows a lot about different products, and if you don't have a fixed skincare routine, he'd tell you to have one. if you have super sensetive skin (like me) and can't handle anytjing other than basic face wash, he'd remind you to wash your face every night.

• he also is protective of his hair!!! he used to have dyed hair, but it didn't go well. he TRIED to bleach his hair but failed and half of his hair came out :')) he never dyes his hair anymore but he does freshen up his mullet every now and then. doesn't let anyone but his mom and you touch his hair.

• asks you if you can help him with oiling his hair because he saw one of those tiktoks saying they work really well. if you're anything like me and are used to oiling your hair every week, you'd massage his hair and his eyes close and his entire body relaxes the moment your hands weave through his hair <3

• LOVES showing you off. either in little ways (by swinging your hands together while walking) or by literally making his entire Instagram page about you. all of his six posts (he rarely posts, but whenever he does it's all about you) have you in them. the cheesiest captions, too. if that wasn't enough, he'd have (y/n)'s with your fav colour heart emoji next to your name in his bio to let literally everyone know who he's with.

• he actually loves to cook!!!! as said before, he'd very organized, so i feel like he'd also be into meal prepping. he watched those aesthetically pleasing videos of people rearranging their fridges with ungodly amounts of plastic cabinets. his own fridge is sort of a mess becahse he doesn't know what goes where :') but he does meal prep, and sometimes even packs you lunches with lil notes

• speaking of notes, he's not really good at talking about his love for you. like he'd show it in so many ways but he can't say it out loud. not only does he get uncharacteristically shy, he's always had issues with saying the words "i love you" out loud, so he either writes about it or draws you <3 you'd find random notes and letters written to you, sometimes with just. a cheesy joke, sometimes he actually Tries and writes a whole letter for you pouring out all the things he can't say out loud.

• the start of your friendship, you two bicker alot. it's clear you care about each other, but he loves teasing you because he knows you'll shoot back.

• he wears really thin eyeliner on special occasions <3 he doesn't like bold looks, but he does like how subtly the eyeliner makes his eyes look different. if yiure good at makeup, he'd ask you to help him.

• has a plethora of diff hats tbh like he collects them like an addiction. he has a fedora and beanies and bucket hats and normal embroidered hats. he has so many it's concerning

• he's very good at driving. when the two of you started getting closer, he'd ask you on long late night drives, either for take-out or just to listen to music and talk. he enjoys your company while driving. if you usually have motion sickness in cars, you will never feel nauseous in his car. he drives very smoothly, not too fast and not too slow. he's kind of a perfectionist (not extremely) and literally screams at Connie to slow down when he goes even a little over the speed limit. he drives the whole time in every road trip.

• his fav dessert is cheesecake. his unpopular opinion is that they're the perfect ratio of sweet and savoury, crunchy and soft.

• hes one of those people to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere. on the couch, at the table, no matter how loud it is or how bright it is. he's a light sleeper and also a snorer. if you're cuddling together, he'd either lay on top of you or wraps not one but both of his arms around you. one under your neck to provide a nice neck cushion, and one draped over your stomach.

• he runs warm, which is both a blessing and a cruse. in summers, even if he'd want to cuddle with you, you feel the need to get as far away as him because he's just so warm. you'd wake up in your own sweat if you do decide to take the risk and let him cuddle you. in winters though, his warmth is very welcome.

• loves it when you hug his arm while walking. if you're tired and kind of lean into him, expect him to eat that shit UP because he loves your warmth as much as you love his. loves it when you lean into him or hug his bicep. even flexes his muscles for effect (you definitely tease him for that)

• is not a fan of thunderstorms, he kind of has bad memories. either from being left out while the ither kids play in the rain, either from the rumbling and the scary sound that comes with thunders that resembles the sound of his angry father or its just how inconvenient it is.

• his dad wasn't really in his life that much, always away on business. every time he would come home, he'd srot of criticize jean's hobbies :( his mom eventually seperated from Jean's father and started her own bakery, hence Jean's love for chocolates.

• he panics very hard when you feel sick. he jumps right into his mama bird genes and makes you a soup from either his mother's recipie or he'd call your mother and ask her for her own sick day recipies. he'd feed it to you and refuse to leave you alone until you've had your meds.

• he loves kissing your forearm for some reason. you loop your hands around his neck after kissing him, so it's the closest to his mouth. he turns his head slightly, closing his eyes as he pecks your forearm :3 it's kinda a weird spot to like kissing, but it's really endearing when it comes from him.

• he has a couple small tattoos here and there. two of the five he has have actual meaning whereas the other three are just for fun

• he wants whatever you want. if you want children in the future, he'd be there with you. if you want nothing but a large house and a couple pets, he'd love to make your dream come true. he's passionate and extremely good at what he does, and he takes pride in it.

✿

[pixiecactus]

one of my favourites gendrya moments that got completely eviscerated by that awful show/hbo is this one:

“Child,” said the singer, “put up that sword, and we’ll take you to a safe place and get some food in that belly. There are wolves in these parts, and lions, and worse things. No place for a little girl to be wandering alone.” “She’s not alone.” Gendry rode out from behind the cottage wall, and behind him Hot Pie, leading her horse. In his chainmail shirt with a sword in his hand, Gendry looked almost a man grown, and dangerous. Hot Pie looked like Hot Pie. “Do like she says, and leave us be,” warned Gendry.

as someone who was reading the books around the time that got's third season was airing (at least in my country was in late 2013/early 2014), even as young as i was back then i could see that show!gendrya was devoid of their book dynamic that made me ship them in the first place. if i'm being honest the only show!gendrya moment i like, is when they first meet each other on season one and that's it.

book!gendry wanted them (arya and him) to leave their little group behind because the boy could see that the other children were dead weight, he's harsh about it but it's true, and when he brought it up to arya, a girl who cares so deeply about the people around her and their suffering, they obviously have a disagreement, this gets burried by the moment that arya decides to trust gendry with her identity, because "only gendry was different" and because the queen was after him too.

i derailed my train of thought a little bit (sorry that happens a lot in my posts), but what i was meant to be writing is that, even when he was opposed to the idea, gendry protected and nurtured this group of little kids, all while being a kid himself, exactly like arya did.

book!arya stark's passing presence in book!gendry's life, changed him, for the better i may say. but i'm a book!gendrya shipper, so my opinion is obviously biased. book!gendry is devotedly loyal to arya, so much that we actually see him, going from a figure that dislikes and distrusts nobility, that helps arya realize that northern/tully men commit awful crimes against the smallfolk too, to a child soldier helping in a quest for revenge for the treason commited against the starks in the riverlands. and i'm not even going to dabble in the "look at my boy, he's taking care of orphaned children now" once again.

show!arya stark's passing presence in show!gendry's life ain't worth shit. and it infuriates me so much. they made show!gendry a soft boi, with an immense "lacking a backbone" problem. i can resume show!gendrya relationship into: "two people that met as children (even when clearly 25 year old joe dempsie couldn't pass as a 16 year old boy), little girl had a crush in the older boy, i guess you can say older boy broke little girl's heart (referring to the "i can be your family" scene), then a lot of years pass between then, not even acknowledging that they knew each other once in that time, and they meet again, older boy who is a man now gets a "wow, she's hot now" moment and they are now both sexually attracted to each other (yay! ig...) but of course little girl, who is a woman now, is a wickedly threatening force and a murderer, and man is such a nice guy that people think he could do a lot better. they fuck. man makes a godamn awful marriage proposal to woman, but she's too far gone to even contemplate the idea, and to even let herself recover from the trauma she has endured. and woman breaks man's heart"

if that's your thing and you ship show!gendrya, more power to you. it's not a bad thing at all, it's just so lackluster to me in comparison, even when book!gendrya hasn't taken a turn forward in the romantic direction yet. and to be honest, even i have to say that the actors did a great job portraying a romantic couple even with the awful writing in the show, but for me show!gendrya lacks a deeper connection between them, and i'm not even bothered over the fact that they didn't end up together

rip book!gendry, you would have hated class traitor show!gendry so much

ps: i think this need to be said in an environment as tumblr but i'm not hating at all joe dempsie and his gendry's performance, he's just an actor doing his job, he's just being told what to do.

[blouisparadise]

There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Another yandere set 2 ask, from yours truly! This is another one inspired by the yandere set 1 asks regarding fatherhood…

How would each of the yanderes’ react/behave during their darling’s labor and post-labor?

I wanna know who’s panicking, composed, excited, etc.

Sorry I got baby fever right now…

Yandere men and their darling in labor and post-labor

Assuming the reader this time is AFAB, or is in an A/B/O situation! By the way, i'm so sorry if i'm moving so slow with the requests! I've been busy lately so i'm trying my best to write.

"Why don't you just close the requests?" True, but some people use the ask box to talk and chat to me without compromising their anonymity. So, I hope you can be patient! I don't really like rejecting asks, so I probably will answer all of them. I know, I can reject them or not answer. I'm working on it lol. Especially that there's a lot of asks like these, which includes all the yandere OCs in a set... It's a bit exhausting. I kind of regret it, but hey, we're here already lol.

I added a section of... You'll know if you read HAHA

YAN! DELINQUENT

Liam will definitely panic. He's sweaty, he's smiling, he's about to blow off his top from the way the nurses were so nonchalant with your labor (It's normal). Can't they see you're about to die (You're contracting)?! Oh god, you can't voice out your pain without you talking (The midwives are not dumb enough to not read body language)! He will swear up and down that no more babies. NO MORE! It's already painful enough seeing you get swarmed by other people, let alone touch you.

Post labor Liam will be calm, fussy, and overprotective. Well, more overprotective than usual. He has a 70/30 chance of fainting, and will praise the gods if you delivered safely.

But, if you died... He will let out a gut wrenching cry by the foot of your bed. The baby won't even be noticed by him as he clenches his chest, sobbing and heaving his heart out. It will take more than days to calm him down, and have the heart to take care of your child. He will love the child, since he knows the child is innocent. But a big, gaping you-shaped hole in his heart is carved painfully in place.

YAN! BULLY

Uno will be the quiet panic-type. He sure is calm... On the inside. He's about to scream and rip the heads off of everyone who's touching you even a smidge wrong. NO MALE HANDS! NEVER! He's never been like this, ever. Even in your wedding, pregnancy, he never panicked. So why now? He's biting his cheeks to the point it bled, and you swore every single nurse and midwife in the delivery ward were yelled at by Uno.

Post-delivery Uno will calm down and act like nothing happened. "See? I know you can do it, nerd." Yeah sure. As if you can't see the blood stained teeth from him biting his cheeks. For the first time, he'll cherish a person other than you. He's so soft that it's new to you too.

If you died, Uno will turn the whole hospital up and down. He'll ruin everything, blame the midwives and nurses for not taking care of you enough, the hospital for lacking the resources to make a safe delivery.... And unfortunately, your child for killing you off. I'm gonna be honest, Uno will be the type to blame the child for your death. So, be healthy, darling!

YAN! NSFW ASMRTIST

Rose would be composed. He knew you were gonna be fine. Of course, nervousness will still be there, but he had enough trust in this hospital that he hopes you and your baby will be fine. That, and all of those breeding roleplays was his fault so he had to be composed since he brought it upon himself.

Post-delivery Rose would be relieved. He's right. And the cute little bugger is so small. He fits just by 3/4's of his arm. Wait, why is the baby so small? Are they really this small? But you were eating quite a lot... He's also a big guy, so the genes..? Is it from you? Or just recessive? He will have many questions. All those pregnancy asmr roleplays didn't really help.

If you died, Rose would feel like the whole world collapsed on his feet. What do you mean you died? He swears you would be okay. That you will be alive and well. He suddenly feels an immense guilt eating him up. Should he have panicked more? Should he have ensured the personnel that you're going to be alright? He sinks to his knees, weeping. He will swear on your body to take care of the baby well.

YAN! ISEKAI'ED ADVENTURER

Aeron is definitely skeptical. Sure, this world has magic, but it doesn't have the technological advancement of the modern world. It's also a world where he can't be with you in the delivery room. So all he could do is pace around the hall as he hears your cries of pain. He'll also cry with you if the delivery was too long for both of your likings.

Post-delivery Aeron will burst through the door and will go to you first. "Are you fine? Do you feel lethargic? Do you feel weak?!" The nurses have to pull him off of you so you can have the baby latch on you. He'll pout, but grips his arm as he watches you and the baby with a fond smile.

If you died... Aeron will regret everything. He knew he should have found a way back to the modern world. Maybe you could have delivered safely. He shouldn't have had a baby with you. A demon king's child will be too much on a mage's body, with all of those mana mixing. The whole hospital will be engulfed in demonic power as he suffocated everyone except his kid. He'll disappear with the child, forever retreating to the Demon realm to raise the kid alone.

YAN! PLAYER

Amor would be excited. He never thought he'll finally get a kid of his own after years and his past life. His parents spoiled him a lot, his guardian angels (gods) spoil him too. And this kid? A product of you and him?! Gods above! That's like, such a blessing! He'll be persistent in asking the nurses and midwives if the kid is there, if you're alright... OH god are you okay? All of these other people touching you... He feels the bile rising up to his mouth. But he knew these people are just doing their job, and then--

Post delivery Amor would be all over you. He'll kiss your face, your lips, your forehead, immediately buy you food you cannot have, and spoil you rotten as you recover. And his kid? Oh his kid is so cute! Look at them. So pretty and small... Is that his nose? Oh they got your eyes! His hair color and your hair texture... Oh they're the perfect mix!

This is one of the rare times were you are guaranteed on not dying... In the backstage, Amor shook the gods on putting so many blessings on your body to make sure your delivery will be safe and easy. That the child will be healthy. So, no deaths at all.

YAN! PARASITE

Acheron will be overly cautious one. He will have you deliver in your home, in his lab, where he transformed it to a delivery ward. He trained in birthing too, so he's as good as professional midwives too. He will be there for you, ensuring that the pregnancy will end well. Because honestly, technically speaking, this child is from this body of his and yours. Not your original body. So he's a bit conflicted.

Post-delivery Acheron is smug. He knew he could handle the delivery well. The baby is healthy, and he's planning on how to make the kid a parasite too. Which can earn your ire or approval, depending on what you want. But now, he's content, and actually loved this little kid, despite knowing the biological composition of the kid.

If you "died", Acheron will be filled with regret too. He wasn't skilled enough. He should've listened and admitted you to a hospital. He'll have to extract the parasite from your body and dump the body, and then find another body for you to inhabit. He'll have to nurse your parasite form to healthy levels first before letting you wriggle into a body. He will be a bit cold to the child though, but a bit more time with him will calm him down.

YAN! EMPEROR

Callisto will only have the best midwives. He'll be overbearing, making sure you WILL be alright. He will, for the first time, be religious and pass by the church to pray that your delivery will be safe. He will force himself in the delivery room. No matter what anyone says. He's the nervous type, biting his nail and barking orders if something even went wrong just a bit.

Post-delivery Callisto will be proud. He's not the type to freak out, he'll just feel the calm washing over him as he showers you with kisses, saying "you did so well", "thank you so much", "Take your time recovering", etc. The baby, he's more or less concerned since he knew the baby will be fine.

If you died though, he'll storm out of the palace, then to the church, and blasphemize the whole place. If he's the chosen one, then why did you die? Why did the love of his life slip past him? After hours of desecrating the church, he will be hell bent on revenge, making the church the enemy. His kid will be not loved, unfortunately. He will neglect them, only providing the bare minimum. Don't get him wrong, the kid will be the heir, but they have to prove himself.

YAN! COLLEGE STUDENT

Alpheus would be the type to be suddenly so overwhelmed with worry. Since he's never been one to feel, the sudden feeling of panic, dread, and worry settled in his stomach. He would probably lay down on the hospital floor, clutching his belly as he rocks back and forth. The nurses and midwives would have to fuss over him before you to the point that you're getting annoyed. He will have to be separated from you, or else he'll probably goes to shock when he hears your pained cries.

When you're done, he goes to your side, crawls beside you, and becomes a clingy mess. He'll apologize, kiss and nuzzle you. He can't believe he subjected you to such a painful ordeal. One child. Just one is enough. He can't have you (and himself) be in this situation again. But the baby is worth it.

When you die, Alpheus will for the first time, cry from grief. It's his first time experiencing something like this, that it overwhelms him. He CANNOT father your child. Unless some divine intervention happens and he'll be fine again. The child will go to his parents, and they'll hope that he'll recover, for the baby's sake and yours up in heaven.

YAN! DEEP SEA CREATURE

Viper's not a worrywart. Since you can't exactly go to the civilization to deliver your eggs safely in time, he would have to let you birth on what's akin to a nest. He'll be there with you, his hands all over your body as he whispers encouraging words to your ears. use his tail as a pillow, who cares. As long as you're comfortable and safe, everything will be fine.

Post-delivery will have Viper give one of his rare smiles. He massages you gently, telling you that you did great, feeding you food, and then fixing the clutch of eggs you birthed. He will have you asleep in no time to rest your weary body as he fusses over the eggs and making sure none of them are wrong.

If you actually died during the birthing process, there will be only two outcomes. If you came to him willingly and you weren't forced to love him, he would take care of the eggs diligently, not wanting to waste your life. If you didn't, let's just say a little cannibalism goes a long way with eggs. Viperfish caviar, anyone?

YAN! HUNTER

Orion will panic throughout your pregnancy. He really thought that he's gonna be the laidback type, knowing you'll be fine and whatnot. But noooo. Now he's here, pacing back and forth in the delivery room as he watches your face wince and cry from the pain. Oh, he almost can't take it anymore. He's begging you to get an epidural. He's really doing it. If you refused, he would shut up and look at you like a puppy kicked. But who cares about him rn? You're giving birth!

Post-delivery Orion will have him faint lol. He'll already wake up when you are cleaned up with the baby also cleaned up. He'll zoom past the nurses and midwives then go to you, where you held the baby up to your breasts to feed. He'll feel a much more overwhelming love in his heart, and he cries his heart out. If it's a clutch of eggs, he'll be starry eyed as he watched the eggs float in an egg incubator, eyes filled with adoration and gratefulness to you.

If you died, he'll be more or less in denial. No way, right? No way you just died like that after giving birth to your precious child/children. You just left them like that? You're so heartless. But deep down, he knew it wasn't your fault. And he goes home that day, eyes hollow, but filled with grief and love for your baby/ies.

YAN! KING

Soma would be pissy. Nobody should talk to him, or he'll blow his top off to them. You were giving birth! Can nobody understand that?! This is a crucial time that it needs his 101%, no, infinity percentage of his attention if that makes sense. He'll also break the rules and be inside the delivery room, letting you hold his hand and even break it. May it be from the pain or from you wanting to exact revenge. Who cares? He'll let you break it if it meant your comfort.

post-delivery Soma would be a lot calmer, and he'll immediately order the people to make you more comfortable, and treat you to make your recovery as fast as possible. Your kid will be given the best amenities, and made sure to have the best upbringing. Hell, he'll have the kid enrolled already and they only got birthed lol.

If you died, he'll be in a stormy mix of emotions. First, grief, second, denial, third, anger, and fourth, relief. Soma knew that what he did to you was wrong and not normal. He doesn't regret it at all. But now that you died when he himself did this to you... As he carries your baby in his arms, he somehow felt relief that you're gone from his clutches, and probably off to somewhere safer than by his side. He will take care of the baby, and he will slowly turn to normal.

YAN! GOD

Technically speaking, Liviticus can just spawn a kid. With the right genetic mix, etc. So it's up to you if you want to go with the nuances of pregnancy. He will be calm. Like, calm calm. It's almost unnerving how he smiles and leads you to an almost fantasy like ward (a forest) laid you down on the delivery bed (a comfortable circle mattress by the foot of a gigantic tree trunk) with helpers in tow (fantastical beasts), and guides you to a safe delivery. You weren't in pain, just a dull ache in your system as you push your child.

Post-delivery Liviticus will have him shower you with the most dazzling display of flowers and sprites dancing around you. The whole forest, and somehow the whole world feeling festive as they made this day a celebration, getting a divine message that the God's child is born. Everyone is ecstatic as they gave thanks to you, and worship you, and give blessings to you.

Again, unlikely to die. Considering your mortal body is dead, and now you're a goddess/god, you cannot die no matter what.

YAN! PROSECUTOR

Yuta was a nervous soon to be father, but he's more or less calm. He's following procedures to a tee, almost robot like. But in reality, he's on autopilot. He already panicked enough internally that he's robotic in your delivery day. You're already worried enough, why would he burden you with his whims and wiles too? He can't afford you getting your mind off of the baby at all. So, he's acting all calm and collected as he held your hand, wishing for everything to be over.

Post-birth Yuta will have him finally break down. At first, all of the personnel around him and you will be shocked as he slumps down to his knees. He doesn't even know why too. Until the tears fell, one by one and he's sobbing from relief. He'll thank you a thousand times, prostrate in front of you, and be spoiling you once you're good to eat. He's truly grateful.

If you die, Yuta will also fall to his knees and sob, but this time from grief as he lost his trusty partner, his true love. Why did he kill all of those people for? Just for you to die? He misses you a lot. He wants to hold you, kiss you again... But all for naught. Mysteriously, the people who helped you give birth died in random patterns. He'll also include others to put the suspicion off of him. But who cares right now? As he cradles your baby and watches the whole midwifery section burn and ensure that no mother dies from giving birth, he sighs, and wishes you were there with him.

[asteroiidx]

> made in mspaint

HEYYYYY!! \(>0<)/

it's been a hot while since i've posted about sans again wahah.. BUT I'M NOT OUT OF THE FANDOM! that's not what's goin on here no siree!! (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠) but i dunno, i kinda just wanna drop something here.. maybe some people would end up relating to it, but who knows!

when i started posting about sans here, i was in a seriously bad place. i'm not gonna disclose on it, but that's kind of how i got back into falling for the goofy skeleton man!!

this was probably my lowest point in life, and it severely affected the way i performed in school and just my overall health. it started off with a love for rottmnt (you'd see it if you scroll long enough), then i went through old fanfics that i used to read in the past- and gosh did i get the biggest wave of euphoria in my life.

i started reading through whatever fics i could find- and i've come across new ones... and cringe ones.. and i just kept reading and reading (up until really concerning hours at night). i ended up scrolling through the fanart, the self shipping, and all of that 2016 throwback jazz. i guess it all made me feel like i'm a cringey 10 year old again.

and that's how i ended up just drawing- well, selfship. it was comforting and i would draw aster and sans together whenever i felt like shit. it made me feel like i could just live a little longer to feel this happy about drawing some fictional characters. it was my coping mechanism

the longer i posted, the more i realized that there were people like me too! and it made me feel happy that you guys interacted with me and enjoyed my art <3 so i appreciate you all for sticking around (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

but i have to say that, i was stuck in a daydream bubble that was really pulling me back from accepting my reality. i wanted to get better, to feel better without having to sacrifice so much of my life outside of undertale. so.. that's what i did! that's what the lack of posts kind of was- and i'm really sorry for popping up and disappearing like that!

i'm glad to say that i'm doing much better than i was before! so yay, happy times! 🎉 i'm currently in university, something I didn't think i'd be able to make it to.. but i'm here now!

i do miss drawing sans, and i do miss interacting with all of you :')

i loved and still love aster and sans- in fact, i still draw them!but i also have other interests too! (ahem.. cod and my ocs..)

i think that's all i wanted to say for now... if you guys even read this- thank you! :3

and if you've been feeling similar to how i felt in the past, i want you to know that it gets better and it will get better <3