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tonycries · 7 months

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Why Can't I Keep My Fingers Off You? - G.S.

Synopsis. There were two things missing in the scene in front of you: 1. The aphrodisiac chocolate your friends had given as a gag gift last Christmas that had been hidden away in the back of your refrigerator. 2. Your dear fiancé.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected sex, Satoru’s blindfold gets used, overstimulation (male + female), lots of cum, aphrodisiac sex, multiple rounds, making Gojo Satoru cum in his pants, breaking the bed, mating press, pet names (my girl), swearing.

Word count. 3.0k

A/N. Can you tell it’s ovulation week. PART 2 HERE. Art by @_3aem on x.

Ah~ It’s the 21st century, they should really make these curses self-exorcizing.

It’s been a long day of dealing with countless curses and five droning clan meetings (all of which he missed, oops). Now, Satoru loiters around your shared penthouse apartment - waiting for you to come back home from work.

Hmm, maybe he’ll quickly drop by and see what the first years are up to? He probably didn’t have a class right now.

But first, Satoru grins, opening the refrigerator to grab at the secret stash of sweets all the way in the back - something sweet.

---

It was odd to step into a tense silence suffocating your home - usually used to being met with whines of “how dare you take so long!” and “you won’t believe what that emo kid did today.” as soon as you walked in through the door.

Was Satoru running late on a mission today?

It wasn’t surprising, the man had to be everywhere - it’s not like he always has the time to teleport and welcome you home. Yet, you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was off as you made your way into the kitchen.

Cursing whoever invented the work week, the cold air of the refrigerator hits you as you open it to grab a drink, wondering when your fiancé will be home.

Wait.

Tired brain distinctly noting the lack of that familiar flash of hot pink, you double-take as you glare at the back of the refrigerator - as if willing it to materialize in front of you. Where was that?

“That” being the gag gift your friends had given you last Christmas to playful wolf whistles. Some large slab of “aphrodisiac chocolate” - probably normal chocolate - that you’d skeptically thrown in with your secret candy stash for a rainy day.

Satoru had ransacked your goods again, you sigh. But if he was home…then where was he?

“Toru? Are you home?” you call out in confusion, only to be met with a deafening silence.

Concern etched on your face, you set the drink down to look for Satoru, footsteps thumping against the hardwood floors at each tense step.

Approaching the bedroom, a low, unmistakable moan filters through the heavy door. Satoru.

Heartbeat racing and worry coursing through you, you cautiously push the door open - only to be met with a sight that makes your heart stop.

There, sprawled across your bed in just his boxers, a delicate flush spread enticingly along his sculpted body, was your Satoru.

Something about this scene felt more than a simple evening nap. The air was heady and thick with something. Maybe it was that familiar hot pink wrapper lying empty at the foot of the bed. Maybe it was the way Satoru’s usually vibrant eyes were half-lidded, curtained by his tousled hair.

Or maybe it was his hand squeezing the large outline of his achingly hard cock through his boxers. Circling the dark spot around his leaking tip. Massaging his heavy balls. Teasing.

“You’re home‘ he rasps out, voice strangled and snapping you out of your trance.

“Wha- yes. Toru, what happened?” you sputter out, eyes locked on the way his cock twitched animalistically at the sound of your voice.

In the blink of an eye, Satoru’s gotten up from the bed, muscled arms caging you against the wall. His rock-hard erection presses into your front, precum smearing through his boxers against your work clothes.

“You’re home.” he repeats, sounding as strained as if he were about to snap any second. Losing his sanity with each breath that fans your hair.

You could feel the pulsing of your cunt as your eyes flit from the sheen of sweat decorating his body to the blindfold haphazardly hanging off his neck. Satoru finally raises his eyes to look at you.

Oh, he’s already lost his sanity.

Pupils blown, those blue eyes you love now a lustful black - a predatory glint in them that made a carnal part of your cunt twitch. His mouth spreads into a wolfish grin, teeth bared as if ready to eat you up.

A shiver runs down your spine.

“Toru…you okay?”

“You’re home.” he breathes out, as if a prayer.

“Satoru.”

The simple call of his name sealed your fate.

The buttons hit the ground before you realize what he’s doing. Ripping your shirt off, pulling off your bra, fisting your clothes in his hands as if it killed him to see you clothed.

Too impatient - too starved - to remove your skirt, he pulls it to shreds off your hips.

“Woah- slow down there.” you squeal as he drops to Satoru knees, biting down on the thin fabric of your soaked panties, tugging with his teeth. You know he’ll buy you ten more to replace what he’s torn, but jeez where was the decorum?

“Can’t” he slurs, peeking up at you with dazed eyes. Was your Satoru even here with you?

“What?”

“Can’t stop.” he murmurs lowly, voice sending vibrations to your twitching cunt.

And before you know it, sharp teeth bite around your panties, ripping them to shreds. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, miles away, grinning devilishly around the soaked fabric in his mouth.

Shit, what have you gotten yourself into.

Despite your thobbing pussy, you soothe “Now, Toru. Why don’t we just-”

“Shut up.” he mutters. And he does - words catching in your throat as Satoru dives nose-deep into your dripping cunt. Hot tongue urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst..

Nose rubbing your pulsing clit in rough circles, he breathes you in so sinfully, letting out a throaty groan as he does. He bullies his tongue past your dripping folds, stretching you, dipping in and out of your quivering entrance. Over and over. In and out.

You were losing your mind with each rough push of Satoru’s warm tongue. Dizzying pace forcing lewd whimpers out of your mouth that mix with the squelches of his mouth on your pussy.

You buck your hips desperately into his face, and amidst his merciless abuse on your cunt, you barely notice the way he presses his body against yours.

Shit, so this is why he’s so fucking feral - Satoru’s cock was painfully hard, swollen and throbbing against your leg. Fuck- you weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

He grind his hips into you, precum soaking your bare legs. With a low whimper at the back of his throat, Satoru’s tongue fucks you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting.

Maybe it’s the harsh abuse of his mouth on your swollen lips, nose catching on your clit just right. Or maybe it’s the feeling of your slick dripping down the corners of his mouth, onto your thighs and mixing with the precum of his aching erection.

Before you can even register it, you’re cumming all over Satoru’s mouth, grip tight on his white locks and hips riding his pretty face.

Greedily lapping at your quivering cunt, he moans as his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet juices pooling around his tongue.

In the back of your mind, you recognize the feeling of Satoru’s warm cum smearing against your leg. Did- Did Gojo Satoru just come in his underwear while eating you out?

Sinfully, he licks at the mixture of your juices dripping down your legs, eyes closed as if tasting a delicacy. He was going to be the death of you.

As soon as your high bates, Satoru stands to his full height. Towering above you with eyes that looked like he wanted to positively eat you alive.

“T-Toru…are you okay?”

But your fiancé stays silent, throbbing erection still straining painfully against his wet boxers as he shoves you against the cold wall. Rough hands on your hips, presenting your dripping cunt to him and arching you to his will.

A large hand smacks the wall beside your head, plaster crumbling under his strength. Shit, if he keeps going at this pace then nothing in the house will survive Satoru - including you.

You feel the cum-soaked fabric of his boxers grinding against your ass, his hands pulling and groping every bit of skin he can reach.

“Toru, take it off.” you whine out, words dripping in lust.

You don’t need to tell Satoru twice. With grace that he wouldn’t give your clothes, his boxers are on the ground, painfully hard cock hitting his abs.

You can feel the slick dripping down your legs as you look behind your shoulder to see one hand wrapped tightly around his large cock. Pulling in slow, languid motions up to the furiously flushed tip. His heavy balls twitch as he thumbs the prominent vein along the side.

“I want-”

You can’t even finish your sentence before Satoru’s bullying his massive cock into your snug cunt. Plush walls desperately trying to adjust to his size as he sheaths himself in your hot core.

You moan at the delicious stretch of your pussy. It’s not like you haven’t done this before - yet, where Satoru was usually suave in sex, right now it was replaced by pure, feral need. With his tip kissing your cervix as he pushed animalistically into your cunt - you didn’t know if you’d make it out alive.

“Hah- Toru it’s too big. Ah! I can’t-.”

“You will.” he grits out, teeth clenched and brows furrowed.

Satoru presses into you inch by fucking inch, groaning at the tight ring of muscles trying to both push him out and suck him in desperately. It was so animalistic.

It seems Satoru’s body moves before his mind, hips fucking into your dripping pussy recklessly. Harsh thrusts, not even pulling all the way out to ram into you as he usually does - as if he can’t bear to part with your wet core. His balls sting your cunt as they smack against you at his unforgiving pace, strings of slick and cum connecting him to you.

“Ah- So good f’me, my girl. Always- so good.” he gasps out at the heavenly feeling of your dripping cunt sucking him back in at each thrust. “Hngh! Mmm more. I need more. Need it so bad.”

Hands arching your back into him now grope the expanse of your skin, before wrapping around your body to lift you off the floor.

“Ah! Toru, what- hngh-” you choke on your words at the new angle.

Satoru’s body bows into you, cock still slamming inside you at a feral pace midair. Not even a hair’s breadth between your bodies.

With one hand he forces you to look up at him, capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. Pretty mouth sucking your tongue as he did with your cunt.

If you were in a better state of mind, you’d notice the slight glow tinging his lustful eyes. The electricity thrumming through his fingers. Yet you already knew - Satoru was absolutely losing it.

Your feet dangle off the ground as he holds you securely, length reaching impossibly deeper inside you. Prominent vein grazing that one spot over and over.

“Hngh- Oh my god, Toru. S’too much!” you pull away to whine.

“Open your mouth.” he murmurs raspily. As if body on auto-pilot, your mouth opens, tongue lolling out for what he was about to give.

Satoru’s stream of spit is warm on your tongue, making you clench around his merciless cock. He lets out a drawn-out groan, eyes boring down at you, holding a glint of the same insanity he has when he exorcizes curses, “My nasty girl. Can’t get enough of you.”

You moan at his words, hands reaching behind you to grab on the blindfold dangling on his neck. “Toru more-” you gasp out, your tight grip causing him to bow his head with a groan, cock twitching ferally.

“Fuck! More? You fucking want more?” he groans out, voice wrecked with pleasure.

You let out a yelp as his teeth dig into your neck - hard enough that you were sure you’d have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow. Like a lamb to slaughter, he was going to eat you up. Yet, your grip on his blindfold never waves, pulling him closer as he fucks roughly into your snug cunt.

Ass burning at the friction of his pelvis. Pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor. Unforgiving. Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. “Ah! Toru s’good.”

You both cum with strangled gasps. A low keen at the back of Satoru’s throat, and he’s pumping hot ropes of cum into your awaiting pussy. Tears stinging your eyes at your sensitivity, all you know is a wave of pleasure as you ride out your climax on the ramming of his hips and the how full you are of his seed.

His hand still draws hurried, desperate circles on your clit. You squeal at the overstimulation, tears clinging to yours lashes. “Toru- hngh!” you can barely get out the words, his hips slamming into yours mercilessly as Satoru milks his cock desperately on your quivering pussy.

“Shut up. You said you wanted more. You’re gonna get more, my little slut.” he mutters carnally.

Ah, you can’t do this. You were going to fucking pass out.

“One- more.” he moans.

Your thighs clench around him, pushing your plush walls deeper as he lets out raspy whimpers with each thrust. “Hah- hngh.”

“Shit- Toru I’m-” Your climax hits you with a jolt, body twitching in pain and pleasure from the oversensitivity as your cunt flutters around his cock - not even being able to tell when Satoru’s orgasm ends and when yours starts.

You feel a tear hit your shoulder, overstimulation too much for his poor cock as his seed coats your walls once more. It drips out of you, forming a pool on the floor as he pulls out - for only a second before you’re thrown on the bed.

Orgasm-hazed brain barely having time to register what is happening before Satoru stalks towards you from the foot of the bed. Unhurriedly approaching you as you scoot towards the headboard.

Your pussy jumps exhaustedly at the sight of him - eyes darkened and narrowed at you like a predator that has spotted his prey. A devilish smirk stretches across his swollen lips, glossed prettily with spit and slick.

Toru, I-I don’-” you words slur out.

“One- one more, my girl. Please.” Satoru whimpers, throat shot from what transpired just before. His cock twitches, glistening with cum and slick, dripping onto the fresh bedsheets.

As he looms closer, you wonder how the fuck Satoru was still holding up - was this all because of the chocolate? You have half the mind to wonder whether he was using reversed cursed technique to keep you both alive.

You mewl deliriously at the feeling of your legs being thrown on his shoulders. Eyes blown and face flushed your favorite shade of pink, he licks a long stripe up your ankles, voice cracking as he moans sinfully.

Satoru’s flushed tip teases your entrance, dragging along your swollen folds. Fuck. Shit. Maybe you wouldn’t even mind dying if it was with his cock rammed in your snug cunt.

Barely even lucid, he thrusts harshly into you - your tight entrance readily sucking up his flushed tip. You both hiss at the sensitivity. Surely, one of you was going to pass out.

Hand moving to grasp the blindfold around his neck, you pull him to you. Your hamstrings burn in protest as Satoru bends down to attach his lips with yours, moving down until you were folded in half.

Tongue tangling with yours, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, fiery with an intensity that made you unsure if either of you would make it out of this alive.

Heartbeat roaring in your ears, you don’t notice the crack! of the bed and neither does Satoru. Too caught up in desperately reaching whatever number orgasm it was this night.

Moans incoherent, your body convulses, nails dragging down the expanse of his sculpted back as the bed creaks in protest. A strangled groan leaves his mouth, cock throbbing inside you - or maybe that was your quivering cunt. At this point you really didn’t know anymore.

“Shit- ah! Fuck. I’m- M’cumming. M’cumming. Hngh- cumming!” he whines out, voice ragged and breathing unstable. Delicate tears streak down his face, dripping onto your quivering body below him. Salty.

You can only let out exhausted whines, too fucked out to form any proper sentences.

Hot seed gushing inside you again, it overflows out of you, cunt dripping and too full to take anymore. Yet, Satoru still fucks into you until he sees stars and his poor cock is cumming dry. You can barely even feel your climax, distant tingles and the only thing on your mind being Satoru Satoru Satoru.

The air leaves your lungs as he collapses on top of you. Skin flushed and sticking to yours. Body twitching as his poor cock neverendingly shoots blanks inside of you. Which number was this even?

That’s when you black out.

Floating in and out of dreams of blue, blue skies and mini Satorus running around, you wake up with a start. Well, as much of a start as you could with your entire body aching as if you got run over by a truck - and then an entire zoo after.

Bleary eyes taking in your surroundings, you distinctly realize that you’re spread out on the living room couch.

What happened.

“Hey, you okay?” a hoarse voice sounds from beside you. You could barely recognize it as your fiancé’s, words jagged from…whatever it was before.

“You…are you okay?” you rasp out, raising a brow exhaustedly. Satoru chuckles sheepishly, tenderly smoothing over the blanket placed on top of you. What a change from before - are you sure this is the same guy?

“Well…the wall is crumbling, we broke the bed, and I’m pretty sure my dick won’t work again for the next couple years.” he gets out in one breath. At your silence, he continues “And I think my favorite blindfold is out of commission.”

“...wow.”

“Wow.”

“You lecher, you ate from my secret stash, didn’t you?”

“...”

A few days later, opening the refrigerator, you’re met with a wall of hot pink. A sticky note on top reading in Satoru’s hasty scrawl, “This time you take one too :D”

A/N. Wrote this while watching The Garfield Show.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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gerec · 1 month

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Do you have fic recs for cherik exes to lovers?

Saved the best for last, Anon - exes to lovers is my absolute FAVOURITE trope!

These are some of my personal favourites; I hope you enjoy :D :D :D

symphysis by ikeracity

After Charles and Erik broke up four months ago, Charles convinced himself he'd never see Erik again. But life has a funny way of bringing people back together.

it was a yellow umbrella spring by ikeracity (series - read part 1 first!)

Three years after Charles left for Oxford, Erik discovers that Charles is coming back to New York.

Second chances are wonderful things.

Lean On Me by SpiritsFlame

Ten years ago, Charles and Erik split up, dividing their six kids between them. None of them expect them to meet at summer camp. And no one could have predicted the results.

preheat to 350 (just for you remix) by ikeracity

Charles realizes he's in love with Erik. But there's one tiny little problem: he just broke up with Erik.

Repeat Offenses by populuxe

“Prickly bits aside—hell, for the two of them, prickly bits included—it almost felt like a date. Which is stupid on multiple fronts. Grudgingly buying your ex a meal after he grudgingly bails you out of jail is obviously not a date.”

Five times Charles bailed Erik out of jail—and one time he didn’t.

melt your headaches, call it home by joshriku

Two decades later after the last time he saw Charles Xavier, Erik's children lead him right back to him.

Of course, it's never easy to look at the ex love of your life and realize you're not over them, not even in the slightest.

my heart knows your name by borninsideatornado

Once they’ve finally got him in bed, Charles works up the courage to ask if he might stay for a few days, because being rejected can’t be worse than seeing Erik in pain. But Erik only says, “I think that would be good.”

The Way I See You by kianspo

Charles is an FBI agent working white collar crimes, specializing in art theft. Erik is a master forger. It's all well and good, except no one knows that Charles and Erik used to be in love once upon a time. Years later, they meet again.

my heart knows your name by borninsideatornado

to put the world between us by populuxe

Erik Lehnsherr is one of the hottest actors in Hollywood: fresh off an Academy Award nomination, he’s about to star in HBO’s most anticipated show of the year. And even though online chatter about his recent string of queer roles keeps getting louder, his personal life remains personal—just as it always has, and just as his manager and publicist continue to advise.

But when he winds up at the same wedding as his college best friend, Charles Xavier—and when they quickly fall into bed together—he’s forced to revisit the past he’s been trying to get away from for years. The pull between them has always been magnetic, but so has the weight of secrecy. Can they keep from repeating the same mistakes, or will the price of the truth be too high?

Walking in a Winter Wonderland by TurtleTotem

Charles hasn't seen Erik since their devastating breakup ten years ago. He's certainly the last person he expects to run into at a Christmas lights display.

Old Flame Burning by TurtleTotem

It's ridiculous for Charles to dread meeting the best man at his sister's wedding, just because he shares a name with Charles's ex. It's not as though it could possibly be the same Erik.

The Edge of What Doesn’t End by populuxe

When a mysterious object appears on the moon, Moira MacTaggert calls in two experts with very specific mutations to investigate.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, after years of breaking up and getting back together again, those two experts have finally broken up for good—and they’re the last people in the world who should be stuck together on a spaceship.

I need sleep like I need oxygen (I'm not admitting to missing you like crazy) by ximeria

Erik needs sleep, but since he and Charles broke up, he's not been able to get a good night's sleep.

December, Take Two by Anonymous

Charles has no problem being in the same room as his ex at Emma's holiday party. They're adults, after all.

We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven (the things you love don't last remix) by hllfire

Charles hands Erik the signed divorce papers, but Erik has changed his mind. Too late, it seems. All he can do is go forward with the divorce. A year later, Charles comes back, and Erik can't help but wanting to see him. The only problem is things don't go like Erik had planned.

Spy Games by manic_intent

Prompt: Burn Notice AU, with Erik Lehnsherr as the spy and Charles as the trigger-happy ex boyfriend. Erik is burned for unknown reasons in Mexico and wakes up in New York City. Somehow, he needs to raise $500,000, in order to find out -why-.

Best Ex Ever by 1sttimefeeling

Charles wakes up drunk on the pavement of a gas station, phone dead. He finds a payphone but can only remember one number. Erik Lehnsherr's.

The problem? They broke up two years ago.

Twice in One Lifetime by Gerec

Written for this prompt: Charles and his fiance Steve, are happily waiting for their first baby. What they are not expecting is the baby to arrive almost a month earlier and looking like a miniature copy of Charles' ex-boyfriend Erik.

It takes them a lifetime to get it right.

Years Falling Like Grains Of Sand by clarasteam

Seven years after they met and parted, Charles and Erik meet again in the most unlikely place.

Every Song I Know by clarasteam

“Erik,” Janos says wearily, “you had amazing sex with this guy. He obviously really likes you. You have, what, a month, six weeks left? You can spend it moping and hiding and worrying you're going to run into him. Or you can call him, have a good time, and figure out where you go from there.”

Erik groans. It's what he wants to do, so much it scares him.

Talk, Baby, Talk by lyonet

“Enough,” Erik said furiously. “It’s over. Let it die.”

“Be fair, sugar,” Emma said. “We made good music. It was your choice to wear magenta armour and a cape.”

Carry Me Anew (Frost & Darkholme Remix) by kianspo

While working as a model for Raven and Emma's clothing line, Erik experiences a strong attraction to his shoot partner. These things happen, except Erik has a boyfriend, who does not take this at all well.

linger like a tattoo kiss by ikeracity

Six months apart gives Erik a lot of time to think about what he really wants.

An absence which could not be more there by aesc

He prepared to shift another half-step over to the Current Events section (which would, of course, enrage him) when the teaser positioned by the model's left elbow caught his eye: DATING WHILE TELEPATHIC: WHY I DON'T DO IT.

Salem Center Mass by listerinezero

Erik Lehnsherr is a professional hitman and has no intention of attending his ten year high school reunion. But since he happens to have a kill lined up in the same town at the same time, he decides he may as well stop by. After all, his high school sweetheart, Charles Xavier, might be there. And it's not like he's spent the past ten years pining over Charles. Not at all.

Three wheels of cheese and a Great White by ximeria

Charles and Erik were friends with benefits in college.

They went their separate ways and 18 years later, they run into each other in New York.

The sex was never a problem back in college - and sex was all it had been. But now Erik is a divorced father and Charles has admitted to himself he needs more than just sex in a relationship. So in their usual round-about way they try to navigate becoming friends after so many years. The whole quest is aided by Raven, Edie, Wanda and Pietro (and a large number of shark jokes).

#gerec rambles #cherik #fic rec #gerec's fic rec #exes to lovers

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seeingivy · 8 months

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speak now

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

songs mentioned: the greatest by lana del ray and speak now by taylor swift! (minor mentions: daylight and forever winter by taylor swift)

an: LIGHTS CAMERA ACTION BITCHES!!!

previous part linked here

There’s something strange about showing Eren around an elementary school. Or strange about being around Eren at all.

There’s an overarching hunch, a quiet fear that parrots in your mind whenever you’re with him, stuck in those quiet pockets of time that you feel like he can see right through you, that every secret thought ricocheting in your mind is one that he’s entirely cognizant of - and that he hates it for it.

It almost fills you with disgust. How badly you want to be around him all the time, to be able to read him the way you’re positive that he can read you, just so that you can know what he’s thinking.

Is he upset with the way you reacted? Does he know how grateful you are towards him? Is he consoled by the fact that he’s fully forgiven? Does he care?

Does he think about you as much as you think about him?

The elementary school makes it worse. Almost emotional. Because it’s the fact that even though it’s not your school, it’s exactly how you remember it - so nostalgic that it’s nauseating. Though the colors are less vibrant, almost too dull this time around. The desks are comically small, when they used to be so expansive that you could barely reach the front corners.

“Did you ever collect Box-Tops?” you ask Eren.

He looks at you, face wrinkled in confusion as he shrugs. And the second his eyes lock with yours, you quickly swallow down your gulp of shame - at the lost, almost pinched look in his eyes - as he quickly averts his eyes.

Does he hate you for bringing it up? Does he want to berate you for rubbing in the fact that he had no semblance of a normal childhood?

You take the little jar, the little cardboard slips secured in the glass, as you hold it up to him.

“These are Box-Tops. They’re usually on the top of cereal boxes and granola bars and stuff. You can collect them and bring them to class and whoever gets the most in your grade usually gets a pizza party. It’s a charity-type thing where they get more funds for things like arts programs at your school by turning them into the foundation.” you murmur, placing the little jar in his hands.

“You can’t just…fund the schools properly?” Eren asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you crazy, Eren? Why would they ever do that?” you respond, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Eren smiles.

“Figures. D’you ever win?”

“Win what?”

“The pizza party.”

“Oh, maybe once or twice. They usually only buy two pizzas so you get a comically small slice so that it’s enough to go around for everyone. And I had Falco and Colt to share with - we had to split all the Box Tops we collected evenly between the three of us so I always felt lame turning like three or four in.” you state.

Does he think your complaint is stupid? That you should be grateful that you even got to experience it in the first place?

“What if there was an even number?”

“Rock paper scissors. Then Falco started crying when he lost, so we ended up giving it to him anyway.” you state.

“Very on brand.”

Eren smiles - brightly this time - as he sets the jar back onto the top of the filing cabinets and the two of you continue to awkwardly pace around the room. Eren’s overwhelmed with the memory - of Falco sobbing at his first Canadian Christmas when he was asked what he was thankful for - and the consistency makes him warm.

There’s something unsettling about the room - about how foreign it is to him. There’s a weird echo panging in Eren’s chest, somewhat caused by how longingly you seem to be looking at every little detail of the room. Running your hand over the hardwood desks, picking up the box of crayons, almost frowning at the pictures.

The thoughts that run through Eren’s mind are almost paralyzing, that he can barely keep his beating heart collected in his chest, and more awkwardly, that you know and are choosing to ignore it for civility sake.

Are you going to leave him when the show ends? Would you have left him if you lived a different life too?

Are you never going to end up together?

“Did you ever see Falco and Colt? When you were at school? S’that like a thing that happened?” Eren asks, poking around each of the little flyers on the bulletin board.

“Ah. Not really. Though sometimes when I was going to art class and Falco was going to computers or something, we’d kind of pass each other. We’d always be really excited to see each other. When we saw Colt, he always pretended like he didn’t even know who we were.” you state.

Eren can't stop the thoughts.

Do you hate him for bringing up a life that was robbed from you? The security of a school, of a quiet life because he selfishly picked you to be at his side?

Eren hums in response, as you head over to the last wall - the one left untouched by your inspecting eyes - as you fight the urge to smile. There’s little pictures of each of the students, Teddy right towards the top with a big toothy smile on his face. You point it out to Eren as you catch it before him, memorizing the soft look that spreads over his face when he finally catches light of it.

“You ever see Zeke?” you ask.

“Well, we technically watched a movie with him in it? So, that counts?” Eren shrugs.

“That’s right. Having your own parents and your brother as your source material must be so crazy.”

The thought that follows your comment nauseates Eren.

Are you trying to point out how different you are, so much so that you’ll never be able to be together?

“I can imagine exactly how you would be in elementary school.” Eren states, slinging his arm around your shoulder and bringing his face nearly flush with yours.

“Oh yeah?” you ask.

“You’d be like…this girl.”

You inspect the picture, rolling your eyes at the cop-out answer. Each of the little pictures is labeled with their hobbies or their interests, and naturally, Eren’s picked the girl who says she wants to be a songwriter.

“You’re funny.” you respond, sarcastically.

“S’nothing funny about it.” Eren responds.

“You’d be like…this one. He seems like the type of kid who would pull on a girl's pigtails, which according to Mikasa, is something that you actually did.”

Eren’s going to kill Jean.

“That’s just how you get a girl's attention.” Eren responds.

“Is that right? Had something you wanted to tell Mikasa really badly?” you smile.

Eren’s almost embarrassed that you know. That he feels the need to defend himself, to prove his devotion to you even though there would be no reason for him to do that.

“Ugh. Who told you?” Eren asks.

You can’t help but laugh.

“I can’t remember. Maybe Jean?”

“It was two days!” Eren whines.

You’re not sure how the topic came up, but Jean humbled you very fast when you claimed that you were the first person that Eren ever liked. Apparently you weren’t because Eren had sported a two day crush on Mikasa when they were younger, before he ever met you, which left you embarrassed - but also ready to tease him to oblivion.

“Eremika…” you state.

Eren clamps his hand over your mouth, as you quickly shove him off.

“Shut up.” Eren states.

“It’s funny! Mikasa’s getting married and you’re stuck at a five-year old’s piano concert. With seats all the way in the back, mind you.”

Eren rolls his eyes, as he leans back and sits on top of one of the desks. You follow suit, ignoring the little creak, as your legs swing over the top of the desk.

“What was your signature move in elementary school for the boys?”

“Was I supposed to have game as a seven year old?”

Eren scoffs.

“Well, we can’t all be talented.” Eren teases.

“I hardly qualify hair pulling as a game. That’s an annoying way to get attention.”

Eren smiles, leaning forward and curling his hands around a lock of your hair, before he lightly tugs. His face is so close to yours that you can make out the tiniest wrinkles in his skin, marked around his eyes.

“Annoyed?” Eren teases, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, ever so slightly. A jarring movement feels too loud, like he’ll move away at the smallest of breaths, like a deer in the woods.

“Down to my very core.” you respond.

Eren smiles, the wrinkles even more pronounced, as you almost lean your forehead against his, skin ghosting each others. The thoughts are racing at this point, so fast that Eren can barely feel his breaths.

Is he ever going to be in love with someone who isn’t you?

“I feel the need to clarify. It was two days.” Eren states.

“Two days of hopeless pining.”

“Nothing compared to the three years of it that I did with you.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks burning.

He knows. It's written all over your face.

“Nothing compares to a puppy-love childhood crush.” you state.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I get the whole innocence of the puppy-love thing, but nothing pales comparison to the intensity of a teenage dream.” Eren states.

Eren watches your eyes waver and feels his throat constrict.

You know. It's written all over his face.

Thankfully for him, and less so for you, Sukuna ruins the movement. His shouting from the doorway breaks that quiet bubble, quickly pulling you both farther away from each other.

“What the hell are you guys doing? It’s starting in five minutes.”

You and Eren settle into your seats at the back, right by the door, as the lights dim in the little auditorium. They’re a warm golden, the smell of fresh paint tickling your nostrils.

Sitting all the way in the back has you and Eren weaving your heads around all the people crowded in front of you, the tiny cell phone lights illuminating each row.

You catch sight of Lana and Sukuna are aggressively gesturing at Teddy on the stage from their cushy seats in the front row at your left - Sukuna trying to get him to smile for a picture while Lana tries to signal to him to fix his untied shoelaces. The coddling makes your heart burn.

Eren digs into his coat pocket and pulls out a little camcorder that he hands to you.

“For?” you ask.

“Can you record it for me? I just…want to watch him in real time.”

You smile.

“Of course, I can.” you murmur, taking the little camera from him and flipping it open in your hands.

“Don’t record the other kids. I don’t give a fuck.” Eren states.

“Who knew you felt so passionately about kindergarten piano concert etiquette?” you jeer.

“You would be shocked. Lana’s basically out of storage by the time she gets to Teddy.” Eren groans.

You roll your eyes.

“I think it’s sweet.”

Eren wonders if there’s anything you can’t find the good in. His wavering suspicion is that it’s him - that you’re the worst thing he’s ever seen. So tainted that there’s barely any semblance of light left in him.

Eren’s hanging onto the end of your words, wanting to hear the spiral of thoughts running through your mind. Your affinity to look towards the positive, to soak up all the good, to point out all the love in the room - it was something he found himself chasing even though he knew he was barely half deserving of it.

“I just mean…when I was younger, my mom would tell me that my friend’s mom recorded me singing too and then sent it to her. And I was always really touched that they saw me and didn’t think god, it’s another kid I have to sit through. Like no, that’s Y/N! That’s my daughter’s friend.”

Eren deflates. He figures that it comes so naturally for you - seeing the good - because he thinks the law of attraction is real; that like attracts like, that people find what’s similar to them. And that he always seems to be the antithesis to it.

He’s always the exception to your rule.

“And some parents are late. They’re running here from work, or…or they were late because they had another kid to take care of first and…and it still makes the kid feel special, even if they don’t know it.” you whisper.

You twist the camera around in your hands as Eren gives you a lopsided smile, an underlying sentiment you can’t really place mirrored in his features. You’d memorize his expression just to agonize about it later, in the safe confines of your room, but your train of thought is cut off by a tapping on your shoulder.

It’s a little girl - with dark skin and braided hair - barely the age of seven. Her little legs can’t even reach the tan colored floor, her sparkly purple shoes glittering in the dim light.

“Hi.” she states.

Eren leans over, a cautious arm on the small of your back, as you lean your head closer to hers and whisper.

“Hi. Is something wrong?” you whisper.

“Our dresses are matching colors.” she states.

You look down - the white flowers printed on your dress matching her frilly pleats. It’s an painfully relieving breath, as you give her a smile.

“My name’s Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Y/N? Like the pop artist?”

You freeze, freezing cold ice shooting down your spine.

“I wish my mom named me after someone cool. My name’s Grace. It was my grandma’s name.”

You can barely muster out a response, Eren’s fingertips at your side squeezing shaking the shock out of your mind.

“I’m sure your grandma was pretty cool.” you respond, barely registering the words as they leave your lips.

“I mean, yeah. She was old. But no one’s as cool as Y/N L/N.” she responds, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You can see Eren smiling out of your peripheral vision, giving a polite nod to the parents seated at her side, who’ve now caught onto the fact that their daughter is talking to a complete stranger. Eren’s quick to diffuse the situation, holding out a hand to them.

“I’m Eren. This is Y/N. We’re here for Teddy. Curly blonde hair, big brown eyes?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I’m sorry…did you say your name was Y/N?”

You give them a sheepish smile, bringing your hands to the coarse skin above your elbows and pinching.

“That’s right.”

“Our daughter’s a really big fan.” they state.

You smile, looking back down at her dark eyes, this time wide in shock.

“Is that right?” you ask, trying to give her the warmest smile you can.

Her parents lean down closer to her ears, the overwhelming sense of a flowery perfume taking over your senses, as you watch them talk to her, softly.

“Okay. Ask her nicely, okay?” they ask.

Grace gives them an obedient nod, before turning to you and puffing her chest out to you.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Oh. You…you want a hug?”

“Please? It’ll be quick.” she asks, her little voice shrill with a hopeful tone.

There’s a soft sense of elation that spreads through you, your cheeks warm at such an innocent request, as you can barely stop your arms from shaking. You open up your arms to her, as she nearly jumps into your embrace, and you squeeze her little frame as tightly as you can. The smell of strawberries wafts off her hair, accompanied by a soft giggling sound in your ear that nearly brings tears to your eyes.

You look up to find her parents, an awkward pinched smile in their eyes, as you give them a polite smile.

“I promise, I’ll take a picture with her after the show, okay? And if I forget, please come find me and remind me.”

The relief is apparent in their faces - their sickeningly grateful smiles over something as simple as a picture - as you let go and she settles back into the seat next to you.

You have to settle for recording Teddy with one hand, a deathlike grip in the camera, only because Grace refuses to let go of your other hand for the rest of the show.

Eren’s surprisingly really good with kids. Or really, not surprisingly at all, because you were finding it hard to identify something that Eren was really bad at. Because even the mistakes he did make were so painfully endearing, so warmly thoughtful that you could barely accost him for it.

He's making jokes with all the kids - participating in their rock paper scissors contests, playing pranks on their parents, and stealing cookies for them when people aren't looking.

You guys are the last ones to leave the school. But it’s only because Eren’s so enthralled with talking to all the passing people - taking pictures, signing napkins, and making phone calls to all their loved ones - that it makes your chest swell.

The narrowed eyes still make you nervous, an underlying feeling of inadequacy - of embarrassment for hiding out for so long - is all but nauseating, something Sukuna picks up on right after Eren.

He lets Lana take the lead on the pictures and mingling with all the parents, apparently something that was Sukuna’s forté, as he keeps his arm linked with yours, backs cold against the cement wall.

“You know, you can go make your rounds with Lana. I don’t want to ruin your son’s piano concert for you.” you state.

“This shit is overrated.”

You smile.

“You’re lying.” you state.

Sukuna looks over at you, brown eyes fixed on yours, as you watch a smile curl on his face. It’s almost boyish - and it’s the first time that you’re acutely aware of the fact that Sukuna’s probably the youngest one here - living a life so vastly different from yours.

“I am lying.” Sukuna states.

“Do you like it here, Sukuna?” you whisper.

“I’m better at this than I was at the whole - award show, celebrity world thing. People here are really easily impressed.”

“Is that right?”

“I handed a woman a lemonade earlier and she said God bless you. Over a fucking lemonade.”

“That’s just basic human decency, sweetheart. Were you raised by wolves?” you ask.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Basically.” he responds.

You hum in response, watching Lana crouch on the ground and press her cheek to Teddy’s as Eren quickly snaps the picture for them.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sukuna asks.

“Is me saying no going to stop you?” you ask.

“Probably not.”

“Proceed.” you respond.

“So, what did you really do for two years? And don’t give me the same shitty bullshit as last time. I want to know what it was that you did.” he responds, tone unrelenting.

You pause, mulling over the question. You knew it would come soon enough, the utter bleakness of it all, but you suppose it's like ripping off a bandaid. That it'll become softer to talk about after you do it so many times.

“It’s not pretty.” you respond.

“I’ve always thought you were really ugly. It’s hardly a difference for me.”

“Lovely. In a world of boys, you really are a gentleman, Sukuna.”

He grins, nursing the glass of lemonade in his hand.

“To be a woman is to perform. Now, tell.” Sukuna responds.

The truth of the matter is that there’s nothing to tell. Because you didn’t do anything.

“I got home from doing the interview and spent the entire week with Falco and Colt. I-I basically didn’t let them leave my side. Falco slept with me at night, Colt basically watched over me like a hawk.”

It’s a crashing plate, worried eyes, and an embarrassingly debilitating loss.

“And then Falco came into my room one day and told me that The Lucky One sold more vinyls than all of my other albums combined, in one week.” you state.

“Non-fluff shit prevails. I’ve been telling you.”

“I didn’t approve of that album being distributed as vinyl. For physical sales - at all. It wasn’t about the money or the records or- or any of that. And when Falco told me, I-”

Sukuna looks over, at the lump in your throat. He knows the feeling too well - the sweaty skin, the heavy tongue, and slips his hand into yours at his side.

“I broke his phone.” you state.

“What?”

“I took it from his hands and I smashed it. Then my own too. That’s partially why I never called you guys. I didn’t exactly memorize your numbers and I wasn’t in a position where I was going to just ask for them back.” you state.

“Not like you would have called anyways.” Sukuna states.

“I only knew Mikasa was having an engagement party because she sent me a physical invitation. Only knew Marco died because of the news. I-I barely knew what any of them were doing when I was gone, still.”

You bite your tongue, the tiniest metallic taste enveloping your mouth, as you pull the now warm, puffed up flesh away from your teeth.

“I knew that if I came back, it would mean I would be sucked back into it. What’s your response going to be, hint at it with this song, come back like this and…I’d rather lock myself in my house then do that again. I love songwriting, but not enough to sacrifice my dignity. I enjoyed my career but it drained the life out of me.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches. You choose to ignore it for the time being.

“I took up different hobbies. Got a sewing machine, made sourdough from scratch, I even learned flower arranging. But, I could tell that I must have seemed like I was off my rocker or something. My parents and my brothers never really left my side, I could tell that they were always worrying about me, and-and I hated that because-”

Sukuna stops you before you get too choked up, now standing in front of you, his back blocking the sight of you from any of the people milling around the courtyard.

“I know that’s a shitty answer. That I should have been doing something worthwhile. But, but- I was fucking tired. I was done doing all this and I can’t exactly…be a functioning member of society or something. I can barely stand here without people giving me a second look or trying to get a discreet picture.” you whisper.

“I just wanted to know. I’m not giving you shit for it.” he whispers.

You frown.

“You aren’t. But maybe you should.”

You look over his shoulder, at Eren squishing Teddy’s cheeks with his fingers as Lana takes a picture of them - far too close to barely even get the two of them in it together.

“He fought for me when I wasn’t even here anymore. I was moping in my house, breaking plates whenever I got frustrated, and he was still moving forward.” you murmur.

Sukuna pauses.

“Y/N. Don’t do that. I need you to be so careful with what the fuck you do after you leave here.”

The sense of urgency in his voice catches you off guard.

“What?”

“Y/N. It won’t happen if you’re careless. You cannot wallow in your own pity about this, I need you to tread lightly, okay?”

“What won’t happen?”

Sukuna glares at you.

“You and him. You could spend years pointing fingers at each other, who didn’t do what. You won’t get him back if you stay there when he’s moved forward.”

“I don’t want him.” you whisper.

You barely believe it when it comes out of your mouth.

“You disgust me, Y/N.” he states.

“You’ve always had such a way with words.”

“And you’ve always had a lack of critical thinking. Why wouldn’t you want him?”

“Why would he want me?”

“He just does. The same way you just do.”

You swallow hard.

“Fine. Be a fucking idiot for all I care. If you do ever knock some sense into that thick fucking skull of yours, just be careful. Eren knows that he has to prove he cares about you for you to come back to him. You need to know that he barely thinks he’s deserving of anything from you, so much so, that he won’t ever make the move.”

Sukuna doesn’t mince his words. You wish he could have you through every important decision of your life just so you wouldn’t stumble and fall as much as you did.

“Eren’s called the shots since you were fifteen. You’re going to have to call all the next ones. And for the love of god, really. I’m so tired of that fucking freeloader showing up whenever he pleases. And you look really ugly when you look sad, so just do it right please.”

You smile.

“Are you insinuating I’m pretty when I don’t look sad?”

“I hope you fall off a bridge and never recover.” Sukuna responds.

The sniffling cues Eren onto the fact that you’re crying. The air pressure of the plane is overwhelming in his ears, almost so loud that he misses it, but he counts himself lucky that you’ve always been an obscenely loud crier. He peeks his head over the division over your seats and reaches forward to poke your head.

“Hey. You okay?” he asks.

You give him a meek nod. You know for a fact that he doesn’t believe it for one second.

“Can I come over there for a second? I don’t want to talk from so far away.” Eren asks.

“Isn’t that like…illegal? Two people in one seat.” you murmur.

“This is first class, the seat is basically a bed. And there’s no laws in the air.”

You frown.

“Eren. Laws still exist in the air. They’re just local.”

Eren smiles.

“Well, aren’t you a little genius? Scooch over.”

You shift on the seat, pulling your blanket closer to you as Eren very precariously makes his way over to your seat, the two of you almost cramped in the small space. It’s almost funny how there’s barely any room, your foreheads pressed together from the lack of space.

“Hey.” he whispers.

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong, Margaret?”

You shake your head. His hands are warm on your sides.

“Come on. Tell me. I’m really good at fixing problems.”

“I know.”

Eren can’t place what the tone is in your voice - but it comes out all strained and raspy - that it rubs him the wrong way.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way.” you clarify.

“Which way do you mean it?” Eren asks.

You sigh.

“I mean. You handled everything considerably well, even if it wasn’t easier for you. You…you waited until I was ready to hear it, until I asked to be told your side of the story. And you put it all together, wrapped in a perfect bow with that documentary, and then took me to see Lana and Sukuna too because you knew I’d want to.” you mumble.

“Wrapped in a ribbon. Who the fuck calls it a bow?”

You roll your eyes, earning you a laugh from Eren that’s so loud it makes you laugh too. You reach forward to clamp your fingers over his mouth, muffling the loud sound, as you shush him loudly.

Eren pauses.

“I’m glad it worked. And I had a lot of time to think. You don’t have as much, but…we’ll help you. With whatever you want to do.” Eren states.

You give him a nod, unsatisfied with the answer.

“What were you thinking?” Eren asks.

You fish out the little slip of your pocket, nearly smushing your face into his in the process, and place the little paper in his hand.

“This is…Satoru Gojo’s phone number?” Eren asks.

“Yeah. I got it from Sukuna.”

“For what purpose?”

You pause.

“I’m going to bury Scott Clarkson into the ground.”

Eren’s caught off by the answer.

“You’re what?”

“What answer were you expecting?”

“I’m not mad at it. I was just thinking more…I want to write music again. I’m not a quitter.”

You frown.

“I thought about that. But it hasn’t exactly worked for me like that. I even tried when I was at the beach but I came up with nothing. But that’s not relevant, I don’t need to write music to end him.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s better that way. Using exactly what they tried to take away from you to get back at them.” Eren responds.

You smile.

“You’ll help me?”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear that I’d do anything for you. Even this. Especially this.”

You smile. You reach forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing hard.

“Thank you. And I get what you’re saying about the music, but it just isn’t happening, so we’ll have to think of something else.”

“I have an idea. When we get back to set, okay? I think it’ll help.” Eren states.

You nod.

“Okay. I trust you.” you respond.

The sentiment sends a shiver down Eren’s spine.

“I don’t know how it’ll go. I can’t promise that it’ll work out the way we want it.” Eren clarifies.

You smile.

“I was trusting you to help me get back into songwriting, not into bringing him down. I’m talking about help into being…myself again.”

Eren’s eyes flicker, down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. You almost swear that you imagined it.

“Do you think I’m different?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

You pale.

“Do you hate me for it?” you ask.

Eren shakes his head.

“I like you better like this.” he whispers.

Eren reaches forward, tucking the loose hairs back behind your ear, before his warm fingers are secured around the nape of your neck. He does it a second time, looks at your lips, and this time you swear the corners of his mouth are twitching too.

“You weren’t very confident when I met you, almost like you didn’t think you were cut out to do this. Unsure of why you even had a place in the room. Then you went so far away from me, worked yourself so hard, that I barely remember you even smiling at any of us anymore. You were angry, then you were heartbroken, and apparently you broke a lot of plates when you weren’t with any of us?”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to kill Falco.”

“Colt.” Eren corrects.

You scoff.

“No way. Eren, he kind of hates you.”

“Kind of? Colt was ready to punch me in the face when he first got to set. Rightfully so.” Eren responds.

“It’s actually not rightfully so. He didn’t even know what you did.” you state.

Eren pauses.

“I know. He got here and asked me first thing what it was I did to you. Then he wanted to punch me in the face when I told him.”

You shrug. You can tell that Eren’s waiting for an explanation - green eyes looking at you expectantly as you give him a nod.

“It felt wrong to talk to him about it. Falco knew you a little bit better, but even for him…they would just start bad mouthing you just to make me feel good. But that would just make me feel worse because…I don’t get it. Hating someone just because things went wrong.”

You crack your knuckles.

“It’s like Ricky. I can badmouth him. He was horrible. He’s a bad person and he literally left me out there to rot just to embarrass me. He did it to Lana, to Teddy. You…I just thought you didn’t like me. I couldn’t really fault you for how you felt. And I loved you. I don't get off on talking shit about you when you were my entire world.”

Eren smiles.

“You had every right to badmouth me.”

“But that’s the thing. I just didn’t want to. Even if things ended badly, you still made me really happy. We still did this entire thing together and-”

“We’ll finish it together.”

You smile, giving him a nod.

“You know when you’re in a relationship and you feel like you get to see a different side of that person? Because you’re so close?” Eren asks.

“Yeah.”

“That’s how you came back to us. Feeling close again. A fresh slate, back to what drew us all to you in the first place. So many things in this industry, in this job are so fake. I mean our job is to literally pretend. You are an overwhelmingly genuine person. Even more so now. You are different. We’re all going to love you for it.” Eren states.

For someone who’s so convinced he’s horrible with words, Eren always seems to have the perfect ones for you.

“Will you leave if things go south?” you ask.

“No.”

“Then we can do this. I’m positive.” you state.

“What makes you so sure?”

You squeeze Eren's hand three times.

“I don’t have anything to lose, Eren.”

When you get back to set the following morning, you don’t miss Connie very loudly whispering with Eren behind you. You’re positive Jean and Mikasa are eavesdropping just as much as you are, their eyes fixed a little too hard waiting for Eren’s response.

Did you guys kiss?

No, Connie, am I crazy?

It makes your heart sink a little bit, but you ignore it as Eren comes up at your side, giving you a bright smile. He reaches for the little glass jar to your left and gives you a wink before he calls for everyone’s attention.

“First things first, Falco. Good job on press. That was one of the funniest fucking interviews I’ve seen in my life.”

Falco laughs, as you turn your head to the side, pretending to do a little bow as everyone pats him on the back, and you look at Mikasa.

“What did I miss?”

Mikasa smiles, pulling up the video at your side.

“Levi’s direction was to not answer any questions about you. Naturally, that was all they asked about so we all decided to coordinate our answers and basically say that we didn’t know you.” Mikasa states.

“What?”

“It sounds stupid, but it was so funny. Some of them started actually believing it. And Falco took it so far, he started pretending like he wasn’t even related to you.”

Mikasa hands you the phone as you play the video, barely containing your laughter at how stupid the video is. Falco’s so confident in his words, so self-assured that it’s making Gabi burst out into laughter, and obviously messes with the interviewer so bad that they can’t even continue.

It makes you happier than it should - their first experience being so overwhelmingly positive.

“And we all wore ribbons in our hair, which didn’t help matters anyway.” Mikasa states.

“Levi’s a menace. He’s milking this so much.” you state.

“That was actually my idea.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean-”

“I know. I just want you coming back to be a big deal. It’s not an easy thing for you to do. You’re going to get every bit of hype for it.”

You smile, reaching forward to link arms with her, as Eren makes a booing sound.

“Are you done? Can I talk now?”

You shove Eren.

“Stop being rude.”

“I’m not being rude. You guys interrupted me.”

“Why were you talking before us? That’s so inconsiderate of you.” Mikasa states.

You laugh as Eren rolls his eyes, handing each of them a tiny white slip and a marker, before he takes his spot next to you and gives you a big smile.

“Y/N is going to write a song. Multiple actually. I want you to write down ideas for her and she’s going to pull one out every morning and read it to us. Then she has to play whatever she came up with, even if it was only one line, at the end of that day.” Eren states.

“Eren.” you start.

“No buts. You guys know the drill.”

You watch as everyone follows his instructions, excitedly whispering to each other as their pens move, and you look over at Eren. He drops his own slip into the cup, the first one, with his name neatly looped on the outside as he gives you a smile.

“I’m not going to be able to write anything.” you state.

“Well, you heard the rules. You’ll have to write something.”

“Eren.”

He shakes his head, handing you his journal, opening it to the marked page as you flip through the sheets.

“I did this a while back, when I was getting back into it. It helps a lot more than you think. And you can ask the person who gave you the slip for help if you really need it, but that person only.”

You take the book for him, watching everyone give you excited smiles as the cup fills up just as fast, and flip though the pages.

“write a song about me and sukuna” And underneath, the lyrics to a song called Daylight.

“write a song about connie’s one year anniversary of being sober” with Levi’s distinct handwriting and the lyrics to a song called Forever Winter scribbled messily on the page.

And the last one makes your throat bob in your chest.

“write a song about y/n”

You read over the lyrics, pressing your fingers against the ink, as you fervently read the lyrics.

We didn't know that we had it all But nobody warns you before the fall Don't leave, I just need a wake-up call

I'm facing the greatest The greatest loss of them all The culture is lit and I had a ball I guess I'm signing off after all

You look up at him, his attention drawn away as he shuffles the cup in his hand to mix up the slips and then holds the cup out to you. Everyone’s watching, waiting for you to pull a piece, as you set the book down, and give them all a meek nod.

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, and an obscene amount of screaming from Connie and Sasha, as you close your eyes and pull out the first paper. You open up the little slip, floored by how random the request is.

“Write a song about upstaging someone's wedding. Connie.” you state.

A resounding smack fills the room - as you look over to find Jean hitting Connie.

“I told you not to put that in.” Jean yells.

“What? It’s funny! Eren said random stuff helps with this.” Connie defends.

“Dumbass. You just had to write something about ruining a wedding?” Jean grates.

“Who the fuck said it was about you, you egomaniac?” Sasha asks, reaching forward to flick his forehead.

“Who else is getting married, dumbass?” Jean responds.

“Why are you so mad? You’re clearly projecting your own personal issues.” Connie states, as Jean and Sasha follow him out of the room, their shouts filling up the quiet air.

Eren turns to you, a bright smile on his face. You want to smack him.

“I’ll see you tonight. Fully written song and all.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as he walks past.

You groan, leaning your head on Mikasa’s shoulder, as you hand her the little slip.

“Eren’s so fucking annoying sometimes. How am I supposed to write a song about this?” you complain.

“You’ll think of something. You’re amazing.” Mikasa states.

“I um…actually got you something. And I had something I wanted to ask.”

You took Sukuna’s words seriously. And had every intention to make amends.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah. It’s a keychain.”

You pull it out, the little penguin charm hanging off the end, as she takes it into her hands. It makes your heart swell - the way she carefully turns it over in her fingers, the excited smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, Y/N.”

“It’s kind of stupid but…it’s blue? Like something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?” you state.

Mikasa’s smile gets wider, her shoulders relaxing as she reaches forward to give you a hug.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“It’s just a penguin.” you murmur.

“Maybe to someone else. But I haven’t forgotten that we watched Happy Feet at midnight the day we were supposed to film the Colossal Titan reveal and almost missed shooting that day.” she states.

You can barely contain your elation this time. That Mikasa remembers the memory just as well as you do. You both laugh for a second before you muster the courage to ask.

“Listen. I want to ask something but I don’t want to overstep so know that you can say no.” you state.

“Okay.”

“I know that we have our own rooms, but I wanted to ask if you wanted to share again? Colt and Porco always snore and…and you have your entire life to share a room with Jean but only a few more months to share one with me?” you mumble, voice nearly shaking.

Mikasa brings her hands to your shoulders, squeezing hard as she can barely contain your smile.

“Really? You really want to share with me?” she asks.

“Are you crazy? You’re like the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really. Falco kicks, Colt smells, Porco snores, and Eren’s nothing compared to you. You're like a princess compared to them.”

Mikasa smiles.

“Deal. Lets go switch the signs - to their rightful places - right now.”

“What if Jean disagrees?” you ask.

Mikasa rolls her eyes.

“He can choke for all I care.” Mikasa states, linking her arm in with yours as you both pound up the stairs right to the hallway.

You take the marker, scribbling out Mikasa and Jean’s names (and Connie’s comments underneath) as you hand her the marker to do the honors. You both admire the little sign together, arms wrapped around each other, as Eren, Connie, and Jean join you two.

“What the fuck?” Jean asks.

You smile at him.

“Sorry. Not your room anymore.” you respond.

“One could argue that it was never really yours in the first place, Jean.” Mikasa states.

“Dude, you guys are so annoying.” Jean states.

“Did you just call your fiance, dude?” Eren asks, earning him a shove from Jean.

Connie comes up at Mikasa’s side, taking the marker from her hands, and adding his signature comment to finish off the new sign. You look over at him and smile, tugging him into your hug with Mikasa - as you all admire the door.

Y/N-MIKA FOREVER!!!

And underneath, Connie’s lopsided handwriting:

WE’RE SOOO FUCKING BACK

You understand why everyone was crowding you and Eren when they thought you were going to kiss in season two. It’s because you got to set early to make sure you got a good seat for Falco and Gabi’s love confession - so excited that you could barely eat your lunch.

You can’t help but watch them a few feet away from you, nervously kicking their legs on their chairs, as your notebook lays forgotten in front of you.

There’s a group of shitty lyrics on the page, so embarrassing that you shut the page as Eren approaches and takes the seat next to you and Mikasa.

“I wasn’t going to read them, silly goose.” Eren states, lightly shoving you as you tuck the book under your ankles.

“Good. I’d kill you before you tried.”

“Wow. Standing up weddings has you that mad?”

“The opposite actually.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes as he scooches closer to you, halfheartedly shaking Levi’s hand as he passes. You look over to Falco and Gabi again - the two of them increasingly nervous, Gabi more so for some reason, as you lean over and whisper into Eren's ear.

“Ten bucks this pushes their real love confession ten years into the future.” you state.

“What?”

“Think about it. We had to kiss and it pushed things back basically a year and a half because we got all flustered and confused. Falco’s doing a whole bit, they’re going to be nervous about this for years.” you state.

Eren rolls his eyes, reaching forward to elbow you in the side.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m right! The same thing happened with Hange and Levi.” you defends.

“Rookie mistake, Y/N. Do I know your little brother better than you? He’s not half as pussy as you or Levi.”

“Touché, asshole. If he likes her so bad, why hasn’t he said it yet?” you respond.

“He’s a romantic. He’s waiting for the right time.” Eren responds.

You look over at the two of them, splitting a box of Tic-Tacs, as Levi walks back to his cues and sets up the cameras.

“Think about it. In a relationship, you’re either a Hange or a Levi. You’re either a Jean or a Mikasa. Falco’s obviously more like Mikasa and Levi. And Gabi’s like Jean and Hange. She has to make the move.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. Gabi’s the Levi and Falco’s the Hange.” Eren responds, nearly offended at your statement.

“Are you an idiot?”

“Watch. I’ll prove it to you.”

Eren pushes up off the floor, dragging Niccolo along with him, as they two of them approach Gabi and Falco. You’re not sure what they’re whispering - but you can tell that Falco and Gabi are flustered by the premise - and Eren and Niccolo are far too elated as Eren walks back over to you, this time with Niccolo in tow.

“Hi Nico.”

“Hi Y/N.”

You look over at Eren, glaring at him, as he gives you a sheepish shrug.

“Okay, guys. We’re going to start rolling. Falco, Gabi, you ready?”

“Yeah.” they respond in unison, giving each other a little fist bump as they take their seats on the floor.

“Was no one going to ask me? I’m in this scene too.” Colt complains, earning a fit of laughter from the crew.

Everyone quiets down as the lights dim on the set, the group of you hunching forward, trying to contain your smiles as you look at each other. It’s only then that you’re reminded of how good Falco and Gabi are at acting, the painstaking agony in their voice almost making you shiver.

“I helped make the attack on Liberio happen. I met a wounded soldier at that hospital, and without knowing it was Eren Jaeger, I sent letters from him to his allies using the mailboxes outside the zone.” Falco starts.

Mikasa leans over to look at Eren, mouthing the words “fucking bastard” as you try to contain your laughs. Levi gives the four of you a warning glance, as you muster out an apologetic smile.

“A lot of people died in Liberio. So….it’s my fault that Udo and Zofia died.” Falco finishes.

“I see…” Gabi responds.

Falco swallows hard, a pink blush on his cheeks, as you all excitedly smile.

“Also, I love you. I didn’t want you to inherit the Armored Titan. That’s why I became a warrior candidate. So…so that we could get married…and be happy forever.”

Gabi’s as red as a tomato. You almost feel bad for teasing the two of them so hard but it’s so endearing it makes your heart squeeze.

“I wanted you to live a long life!” Falco shouts.

“What are you saying?” Gabi responds.

“I might turn into a Titan at any moment. I just wanted to get it all out there before I’m gone for good.”

It's silent - leave for Gabi's tears before she quickly stands up. You watch as Gabi aggressively wrestles with Falco, pulling off the little black band secured around his waist, before she throws it on the ground, her chest heaving.

You sincerely hope Levi campaigns for them to win an award for this one.

Levi calls cut, as Hange runs up to the two of them, excitedly cheering them both on as they avert their gaze from each other. Eren’s quick to jump up, grabbing you by the wrist as he pulls you up to the group of them, a devious smirk on his face.

Niccolo’s quick to join his side, the two of them crossing their arms over their chest and smirking at Falco, as he sighs.

“Really, guys?” Falco asks.

“Really. You agreed to it, little dude.” Eren states.

Falco rolls his eyes, nervously eyeing Gabi - who is excitedly jumping up and down in front of a very unamused Levi - before he walks over to her and plants a big kiss on her cheek. The group of you all gasp, Gabi’s skin burning red, as Falco runs away, claiming he needs to go to the bathroom.

Niccolo and Eren are fist bumping at your side and Eren’s turns to you, irritatingly positioned with his hands on his hips, as he smiles at you.

“Told you so.” Eren states.

“What the hell did that prove?”

“It’s simple. I asked Falco if he wanted to play a game of Truth or Dare. Then, I asked him to kiss his favorite person on the cast on the cheek after the scene was over. Told him to run right up to you and do it since I knew for a fact you’re his favorite.”

“Eren, you little-”

“Falco is most definitely the Hange or the Jean of the relationship. Would even go as far to argue that he might even be the boldest.” Eren states.

You groan, the two of you walking past Gabi and Falco near the snack table, a sizable distance away from each other and nearly sweating in the presence of each other. You and Eren shoot them a thumbs up, and Eren continues to gloat all the way back to the house.

At the end of the workday, Eren’s gathered everyone in the main room in a big crowd, doing nothing to help your nerves, as you give them all a smile and loop the guitar strap over your shoulder and sit on the bench.

“Okay. Repeat the request, Y/N.” Eren guides, the group of them all giving you warm smiles.

Mikasa and Sasha blow you a kiss, Porco and Connie with overenthusiastic thumbs up, and Eren’s smile pushing you on.

“Right. The request was ‘write a song about standing up a wedding’ and it was from Connie.” you state.

You swallow hard as you shut the book and place it under the bench and start strumming on the guitar to warm up.

“Be nice to me guys. I called this one Speak Now.”

I am not the kind of girl Who should be rudely barging in on a white veil occasion But you are not the kind of boy Who should be marrying the wrong girl

There’s a resounding sound of cheers, Connie and Mikasa clapping along with the sound as everyone else follows suit. You can feel your head pounding, your voice slightly shaking as you continue on and the guitar strings uncomfortably burning your fingers.

I sneak in and see your friends And her snotty little family all dressed in pastel And she is yelling at a bridesmaid Somewhere back inside a room Wearing a gown shaped like a pastry

Mikasa scoffs.

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Everyone laughs, including you, as you shake your head and blow her a kiss before continuing. She makes the little gesture at you - like she’s catching the kiss in the air and tucking it into her pocket. You can feel Jean rolling his eyes at your side.

Don't say yes, run away now I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door Don't wait, or say a single vow You need to hear me out And they said, "Speak now"

The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly, the excitement from the group of them making your heart soar, that block in your throat dissolve.

Sasha’s trapped Niccolo in her arms and has been aggressively swinging him around for the past minute, Porco and Gabi locking their fingers together to do a little swing dance, and Hange, Armin, and Eren bobbing their heads in unison at the side.

The group of them all give you a deafening sound of applause when you finish, aggressive hugs and kisses being placed on your cheeks as they all applaud you - claiming your brilliance - as you feel your cheeks burn with excitement.

Eren’s the last one to approach you, an almost too satisfied with himself smile on his face for the second time today, as you give him your most peachy smile.

“Like it?” you ask.

“Loved it. You’ve still got it.” Eren states.

“You know it.”

“Can I give you one note?” Eren asks.

“Please.”

“The last verse. You have to change it.”

“What? Why?” you ask.

“It’s a good repeat. But I’m more curious…did the guy from the song leave the altar for her?”

You nod, giving him a smile, as you reach for the book, and gesture for him to sit next to you on the bench. You quickly jumble the lyrics onto the page, nearly misspelling half of the words, before you hand it to him for inspection.

And you'll say, "Let's run away now" I'll meet you when I'm out of my tux at the back door Baby, I didn't say my vows So glad you were around When they said, "Speak now"

"Always a sucker for a happy ending. It's perfect." Eren states.

He gives you a glimmering smile, making your heart skip a beat as his hand brushes against yours. Eren pulls out the little slip from earlier today, taping it right above the lyrics.

He gives you a last pinch of the cheek before pushing off the bench, leaving your entire body burning at his praise.

“That’s my girl. I didn’t doubt you for even a second.”

You pause.

"Eren?"

He turns back, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah?"

"Ask me who my favorite person on set is."

"What?"

"Ask me."

"Why would I-"

"Can you just do it?"

Eren turns back, hands at his side.

"Who's your favorite person on set?" Eren asks.

You walk up to his side, standing on your tip toes to press a kiss into the softness of his cheek. You hope that he understands - that you're overwhelmingly thankful for him. For the documentary, the days in Seattle, and the lifeline he always throws you. That you'll always be indebted to him.

"It's you." you whisper.

Eren's cheeks are pink.

"Is that right?" Eren asks, the tone in his voice teasing.

"Don't push your luck." you state.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Eren responds, as he gives you one last cheek pinch before leaving you alone with the piano.

Singing the song, strumming the guitar - it's almost like stretching an old muscle, flexing out the soreness. You're so excited that you reach for the cup on top of the piano to start writing the next one right away. But when your read the slip, you feel your mouth go dry.

you love someone with your entire being, and all they do is tolerate it

And at the bottom, a name scribbled in messy handwriting

Jean.

next part linked here

an: OK GUYS. WE'RE IN THE ENDGAME NOW!!! sorry its kind of boring but we die like men

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejgg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-morii @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv @cowgirlikets @dreamxiing @mamamammarga @tangerine-neonlight

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

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toxinoire · 2 months

Text

Out of boredom I'm just gonna make more Mean Girls headcanons because you people seem to really love those.

• Cady is a picky eater. She can eat dishes that are so extreme, but show her mashed potatoes and god forbid scrambled eggs mixed with bell peppers and she will go "No."

• Gretchen owns a lot of glitter pens. She fucking loves glitter pens.

• Janis is into coding. She had to learn it once because a digital website for art she uses crashed so out of spite, she learned coding.

• Regina does know how to sew and make clothes even. She just doesn't do it a lot, so by far the only person who knew was Janis. It wasn't until Christmas where Regina gave handmade everyone jackets and beanies with designs specific to them that they learned.

• Karen knows to play the fucking accordion. The way everyone learned was that they snuck into the school's music room, there was this one dusty accordion and out of boredom, Karen just picked it up and started playing Get Him Back by Olivia Rodrigo on the damn thing.

• Janis and Gretchen are a fucking detective pair. Someone in their group got made of or is sick but hiding it? They're the first ones to figure it out.

• Damian is the parent of the friend group.

• Regina and Cady have a shared thing for Greek Mythology.

• Karen can and will read their emotions and their entire being if they don't wanna admit something with the most angelic smile you've ever seen.

• Cady sleeps early, but you cannot drag her out of bed at any time before seven.

• Janis and Regina used to have a height chart but not for the "I wonder which one will be taller" reasons that most do, they had it because they were so adamant to know which one of them would be cuddle sized. They never talked about it until one day, in Janis's house, Gretchen fucking found it.

• Don't be fooled by Cady's height, she's feral as shit and will kick your ass.

• Karen is scared of frogs.

• Regina is secretly into flower language.

• Damian has RTC cosplays hidden in his closet. Yes, even Karnak.

• Everyone still wonders how Cady did not cry during while watching Titanic.

• Gretchen is into anime, but not the cutesy ones. The gorey ones. It's a coping mechanism don't judge her.

• Speaking of coping mechanisms, so far, Janis's healthiest one is dying her hair tips/streaks a different color when things go to shit.

• Regina will just hide and come back when she's good. Her friends hate that she does that.

• Karen has once the sent the group chat a gif of a walking sign and it left everyone wondering where the fuck did she find that.

• Gretchen is into romances and she always sees multiple tropes in her friends.

• Surprisingly, now that Regina has her head out of her ass, she actually is a fucking treasure trove of ideal character tropes.

• Damian and Cady carry Hello Kitty band aids around all the time.

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year

Text

Pinch Me

After your first date with a familiar face from home, waking up next to Steve feels like something out of a dream.

This is a follow on from Clean Slate but can be read as standalone fic.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties and were in school together; you met again on a blind date almost ten years later. This is an 18+ fic; oral (reader receiving), penetrative sex. Spoiler but use of ‘good girl’ in a sexy content. Steve Harrington being a smooth mf comes with it's own warning.

I have tried to leave physical descriptions as neutral and inclusive as possible! Some mentions of anxiety and insecurity. Plenty of kissing to make up for that!

Author’s Note: Clean Slate was intended to be a one off fic but here we are! This is my first attempt at smut in a fic, so hopefully it’s not horrendous! Thank you for reading, enjoy!

Thank you to my lovely @specialagentmonkey for beta reading for me💖

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me)

Ever since you were little, your bed had been one of your favourite places. Soft sheets, books on the bedside table and a perfectly curated stack of pillows all topped off with the quilt you had made with your grandma before her arthritis got too bad.

In your mom’s photo albums there was more than one snapshot of you as a sleepy toddler with a wild bed head peeking up from your pillow on Christmas morning. Another few of you reading Nancy Drew in a pillow nest with a gap toothed smile.

By now, you had made your own little nest out in the big bad world now; a surprisingly roomy studio with big windows and noisy neighbours on one side. You had bought new sheets and a duvet printed with dusty pink roses on porcelain white cotton, curated a new stack of pillows and added too many decorative cushions on top of the same quilt that had made the move with you to Indianapolis and on to Chicago. There were still books on your bedside, a little dish for your jewellery to sit in while you slept, and an accumulation of lip balms, pillow mist and a candle or two to set the mood.

After long shifts and bad dates, your bed was still your haven. When you were particularly anxious, you could still hear the shrill of your old alarm blaring in your ears; the sound of that clock that had dragged you from sweet dreams in your beloved bed on chilly winter mornings. Some mornings, as you rode the subway to work, you swore you could hear your bed’s own siren song calling you to get off at the next stop, come home to read and nap the day away.

The sanctuary was for you alone, save for an occasional sleepover with your best friend Annie. Your dates were never invited to stay and make themselves comfortable. But this morning, waking up with Steve Harrington in your bed? That was new.

It was safe to say that your blind date went well. Really well.

You had resolutely avoided talking about school, only mentioning people each other might have remembered in the context of a story about your lives outside Hawkins. Steve was still in touch with a lot of people from home. You recognised some of their names; Robin who grew up a street away from you, Eddie Munson who you knew from art class and the occasional house party in your youth, even Nancy Wheeler. The way he lit up with so much fondness for ‘his kids’ who weren’t kids anymore made your face ache from smiling.

And Steve had listened, wanted to hear how you had liked Indianapolis for college (he had spent some time there too before making the move to Chicago with Robin after Eddie had sussed the place out and found an apartment near his own for them that they still shared). He had asked about your job, your life in the city, and took a real interest in you.

His attention had stayed on you, never straying to see who else was around or looking for an escape route. His honeyed gaze had stayed focused, watching how you used your hands when you spoke and dipped occasionally to look at your lips. Steve’s hand had stayed close by when his fingers weren’t outright intertwined with yours. He did this thing with his thumb, stroking it across the bone of your wrist, and a few times he had squeezed your hand while you spoke as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening’ - it was so centering for your often anxious mind.

You had a few more drinks, picked a few songs on the jukebox, kept talking and talking until you were sitting close enough to hear Steve’s stomach growl, making his cheeks flush pink.

“I know a pizza spot close by if you’re hungry?” you suggested.

“DiFontaines?” Steve smiled a little, nodding at your suggestion. “Yeah I love it. Let’s go.”

Neither of you wanted to end the night yet, say goodbye. So you didn’t. Instead you headed hand in hand into the warm night air, nicely buzzed and in search of hot pizza and crispy cold sodas.

The sun had dipped in the sky, taking the worst of the heat with it, but the night stayed humid and sticky. Despite the warmth, Steve held your hand and between stories, as you walked down the next block, he lifted his arm to twirl you when you passed a bar blaring Achy Breaky Heart onto the street; Billy Ray’s crooning was eclipsed by your laughter.

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, pushing him gently before Steve quickly hugged you against his side again. Never had you felt so comfortable on a first date - but this wasn’t just any blind first date.

“Dork?! You been talkin’ to Robin?” Steve smiled down at you, sparking heat in your belly.

“Guess your reputation precedes you, Harrington.” With a burst of bravery, owing it to your younger self, you bounced up on your toes to peck his cheek before taking off a few steps ahead, turning to grin back at him as he jogged to catch up before you swerved into the pizza place.

You joined the line of late night pizza lovers and Steve had slipped an arm around you, leaned his chin on your head as your heart pounded hard. “So, what’re we getting?” he asked.

The familiarity of it all made you feel fuzzy around the edges, his thumb stroking your shoulder, the heat of him pressed against your side.

“It’s probably sacrilegious but the New York style slice, veggie or… artichoke.” Feeling brave again you cover his hand with yours and squeezed. “You?”

“Okay so we’re both sinners then.” He hummed, considering his options. “You’re vegetarian right?”

“Yeah, I try to be.” You liked how he had remembered a tiny detail from a story told hours ago.

“Okay. Four cheese then.”

“You sure?” Your interest piqued.

“Yeah, ‘course. You might not want a goodnight kiss if I have pepperoni breath.”

You swear your jaw dropped as Steve schooled his smile, watching the group of tipsy tourists ahead of you order their slices before his eyes darted back to you.

Steve was more timid, his voice quieter as he filled the silence between you when you had been too stunned to answer. “It’s also totally fine if you don’t want to kiss me, sweetheart. I know I can lay it on ki-“

Instead you rocked up to close the gap between you, ignoring the pinch of your sandals to lay a kiss onto his lips. Steve was quick to cup your cheek, keeping you there to kiss you back just as sweetly.

His nose has nudged against yours before he let you go, gazing into each other’s eyes until your attention was pulled to ‘order or get out’. His arm had stayed around you as you placed your orders, splitting a third classic deep dish slice between you so you wouldn't be run out of town with torches and pitchforks.

Full of pizza and soda and bravery, you had taken Steve’s hand again and strolled through the sticky Chicago night, steering him toward your apartment with the guise of proving that the same pink scrunchie you wore in high school was in fact on your bedside table. You both knew what you were really suggesting.

Part of you niggled away, expecting him to make a polite excuse to head home instead. But Steve only had eyes for you and sealed the deal with another kiss. You lost yourselves in each other, feeling younger together, and made out with Steve’s back against the shutters of somewhere long closed for the night as he squeezed your hips and you toyed with the ends of his hair. It was with regret that he had to tear himself away from your lips to hail a cab for you both, where you did your best to behave on the way to your apartment.

As you lay in bed that next morning, watching how Steve’s chest rose and fell with breath, how soft he looked in sleep, you felt warm and happy. His golden glow was just as dazzling in the morning light.

Your night together had been unrushed. Steve hadn’t just hit it and quit it with you. No, instead you had kissed and kissed, making out and letting your hands roam like two teenagers except there was no hurry; no seven minute deadline or someone pounding on a guest room door to see if it was occupied. The rumours in school had been true; Steve Harrington was an amazing kisser. You had listened to a friend of a friend rave about his soft lips after a lucky spin the bottle in junior year; now you had tasted him for yourself, you understood why she had brought it up so much. But Steve was in your bed now, not hers, you thought smugly.

On the way from the couch to your bed, he had unzipped your dress and you made sure his powdery blue shirt wouldn’t be too creased in the morning, draping it over the back of a chair instead of leaving it balled up on the ground.

Steve had made sure you knew how beautiful he thought you were, kissed you everywhere before taking his time with you and spent an age between your legs as he worked you open for him. Lying there the next morning, you could feel your face heat up when you remembered how his touch set you on fire. The pleasant all over ache weighed you down into your mattress.

With a messy bed-head, Steve woke a little after you and saw you smiling dreamily to yourself. He reached out to pull you closer, tucking his face into your neck.

“Mornin’.” His voice was gravelly and deep.

“Morning.” You brush his hair back gently and dot a kiss to his forehead before stroking your fingers over his shoulders soothingly, dragging them down his arm.

“S’nice,” he said, lips moving against your neck before he pressed a few kisses there.

Lying face to face on your pillow, your fingers played with the fine gold chain that settled around his throat, dipping lower into the thick hair on his chest.

“I had a really good time last night.” Steve’s fingers walk up your arm, before twirling your hair around one carefully.

When you look up at him, he’s got this little smile on his face. He inches closer, letting his gaze drop to your own smiling mouth before you share a slow morning kiss.

“Me too,” you whisper, settling your hand on the side of his neck before returning his kiss again. Your fingers skate across and behind the lobe of his ear, the underside of his jaw and the shade of stubble there.

With his large soft hands, he drags you closer still, pressing you right up against him. The t-shirt you had pulled on after the sweat on your body had started to cool last night was rucked up over your hip as Steve’s thumb strokes the dip there.

You sigh into his mouth, feeling warm all over despite the chill of your box fan to cool the room down. This morning you're warmed by the heat and glow that radiates from Steve Harrington, hotter than the sun itself.

“You’re really beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips, shifting his weight so you’re on your back again with one of his thighs slotted between yours. Steve brushes your hair back, fanning it out over the pillow before dipping down to kiss you again. He leaves you breathless before his lips trail lower to your jaw and neck.

It’s an intimacy you hadn’t had with anyone in a long time, feeling safe enough with Steve to let yourself be loved on like this. You will yourself to be present with him, bask in his glow as it warms you, but barbs of anxiety have crept in to distract you.

Last night was amazing, slow and syrupy and tender. If that had been the last time you ever saw Steve Harrington you could have probably died happy - happier than before anyway. But instead he stayed, and as he kisses you again (morning breath ignored and forgotten). Steve didn’t care that you had faded into the background of your shared high school halls, he had loved how you had the bravery to break out of Hawkins and be you now.

Steve notices you tensing up and peels himself back, thumbing your cheek again as he says your name. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, concern in his eyes. It makes your heart ache.

You shake your head and cover the hand on your cheek. “No. Never.” You pull him to you again and relish the weight of him on top, your hands over his shoulders. “I’m getting in my head. You’re straight out of a dream, Steve. I feel like asking you to pinch me.”

You feel a little embarrassed about being quite so honest with him like this, but he oozes a magnetism and calmness that makes you want to tell him everything. But you don’t want to scare him away, be left waiting for another call that’s not coming, or hear him say ‘that was fun but I’m not looking for anything serious right now’.

He smiles and leans his weight on one strong arm so he’s not totally crushing you. “I can, if you want. But I promise I’m real. And I’m just some guy.”

You laugh. “Some guy? Nah Steve, I think you might be some sort of apparition. Or like, a Greek god.” You squeeze his bicep for emphasis. “Definitely dreaming.”

Steve rolls his eyes, playful, and pinches your cheek lightly. “See? Silly.” He presses a kiss to where he pinched before going in for another on your smiling mouth. Steve was not shy or stingy with his kisses, you had learned. You liked that a lot.

“I think you’re pretty amazing, y’know. If you’re not sick of me yet, would you wanna go for breakfast with me?” Steve kneels up between your thighs, the sheets pooling around his hips. Your eyes go right to the white Calvin’s pulled tight over the thickness of him. Your eyes rake up over his body until you’re caught staring, ogling, and Steve smiles when you pull a pillow over your face. You certainly hadn’t been so shy last night; he laughs and lifts it away to gaze down at you, hoping you will say yes.

“C’mere. Then you can take me for breakfast.” You coax him back down, hooking one leg over his hip. “Prove to me again that you’re not just in my imagination?”

Steve grins and rolls himself down over you. “You been imagining me like this? Scandalous,” he teases before resuming his kisses from earlier, which you are eager to return. Your bodies move together, hips tilting toward each other seeking out that pressure that makes your tummy sizzle. As Steve’s hands slip under your sized-up sleep shirt again, your own dips down to cup him through his underwear. His breath hitches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Baby…”

Baby.

You smile and repeat the movement firmer this time before beginning to coax him to hardness, breaking your hold on him only to help him remove your tshirt. It’s lost to the floor along with Steve’s briefs. His breath is hot against your mouth as your bodies press together. The feeling of Steve’s hands on your breasts draws out a whine that’s swallowed by another kiss; his hands are so big and they feel like they are everywhere, like Steve is everywhere. His mouth and hands trail lower, spreading you out for him on your dusty rose bedsheets. He cups you there, thumb swiping in a delicious rhythm that has you gasping against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, kissing the tops of your breasts. “Let me hear those pretty noises again, baby. Please?”

You whimper as his fingers ease you open, so gentle like the polite ‘please’. Steve had proven he was a talker already last night, his words making you feel hot all over as he had pushed so carefully inside, turning tipsy giggles into needy gasps. You felt the same heat engulf you now as he lay wet kisses to your tummy, your hips, pausing only so that he could lie comfortably between your thighs after shouldering his way between them.

He’s looking up at you, his cheek against the meat of your thigh. Lips curve into a smile when you meet his gaze, and he closes his eyes when you stroke his hair back. One of his hands takes yours and rests together on your belly as he dips to kiss you where you need him, humming against you when you gasp his name.

Your eyes drop closed, fireworks bursting behind them as he makes you feel so good. The once or twice any other man had done this was lacklustre in skill and enthusiasm, which Steve possessed in every cell of his being. When you chance looking at him you spot his hips shifting against the mattress, chasing relief for his own ache which makes you moan louder. His whispered “good girl” sends your eyes rolling back into your skull.

Steve brings you to your peak quicker than anyone ever had before. Mindful that you might be a little tender from the night before as he presses one long and thick finger inside before a second joins it a few moments later, gentle but with a purpose of making you forget your own name. His shoulder presses firm against your thigh, spreading you wider as his fingers pump steadily, keeping the pace and press against the spot inside you that makes you feel fit to explode.

You squeeze his arm while your capacity for coherent speech vanishes, focusing only on the swirl and suck of his mouth and the crook and curl of his fingers. It’s so sudden, and you swear you’ve never made a noise so loud as you moan for him, trembling all over. He whispers his praise against your thigh before bringing his mouth back to where you’re weeping for him and doesn’t stop until your thighs are crushing his ears, muffling your voice.

Chest heaving, you feel him move up to check on you. He brings you close, holding you as you glow with him and presses feathery kisses to your hairline. “You still with me? Not still dreaming about me?”

“Mm, think I died,” you manage, peeking up at him with teary eyes. Another tender kiss to the dopey smile on your lips. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.”

His grin is deservedly cocky, earning himself the warm grasp of your hand around his length. The prettiest frown graces his face as you squeeze and slowly pump your hand, your lips moving to his neck.

Steve’s gaze moves from your face, dragging down your body to where your hand holds him. His size makes your hand look small and you feel the kick of his arousal on your palm. You manage to swing one wobbly leg over him, sitting on the breadth of his thighs with new confidence as he holds you steady.

You lean across him, earning kisses to your chest as you fish for a condom to rip open and roll on to him before lowering yourself down into his lap.

Sinking your teeth into the fat of your lower lip at the stretch of him, Steve huffs out a breathy swear against your chest. His hands settle on your hip and thigh, grounding and never rushing as you breathe into the feeling of him inside you before beginning to move.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, watching you in awe. “So pretty f’me.”

That spurs you on, chasing the tingle deep in your abdomen. Your fingers lace with Steve’s on your thigh, the other hand braced against the wall behind his shoulder.

His head leans back by your hand, turning to kiss your wrist as you move in his lap. You curl your arm around him, bringing each other close as his hips hitch up to meet you.

“So good, baby,” he murmurs, kissing you again as his breath comes quicker now. “You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Gasping his name, you hold him tight to you as you move together. He can’t take his eyes off of you, “Good girl, so gorgeous.”

Messy kisses broken by gasps and Steve’s praise are traded back and forth. His hands feel huge where they hold you at your waist.

The cord of pleasure deep in your pelvis winds tighter. Steve’s jaw twitches as he holds on to you, and you kiss the tense muscle before whispering, “You make me feel so good.” The sound he makes is almost a whimper and he squeezes the meat of your ass. Your hips continue their rise and roll, you feel like every cell of your body is aflame.

Steve watches you, praising words fanning the fire low in your belly. The burn in your thighs makes you pause and he takes the chance to kiss you stupid again.

“Feel good? Yeah?” When you nod, feeling spaced out, he pecks your swollen lips and whispers, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart.” You wonder if he lets anyone take care of him, return his generosity and affections.

He is so gentle as he holds you to his chest and slouches lower on the bed. You close your eyes at the feeling of being held like this, cheek to his broad shoulder. His feet are flat and firm on the bed and the experimental thrust up into you makes you sigh his name. Steve sweeps your hair to one side so that he can kiss your neck again, checking in with you before continuing.

His name echoes on your bedroom walls as he grazes the elusive spot inside of you; the way you press right against his pelvis gives a rub of friction that makes lightning zing through your limbs. “That’s it. Huh? Right there?” His voice is tight as he drives up into you again, faster now with the new angle.

You can hardly summon the sense to make a sentence, babbling now with how good he’s making you feel, the occasional broken curse or plea. After last night and this morning, the neighbours won’t be happy or forget Steve’s name anytime soon - not that you give a fuck.

You kiss him again, though now you’re both so far gone it’s messy and needy, hot breaths against each other’s cheeks. The lick of his tongue against yours makes you shiver. You feel ready to burst, pleasure building as his hips drive up hard into you

With the feeling of him so deep inside of you, you fall over the edge again. The feeling of your orgasm, clenching and fluttering and soaking, drags him with you, groaning against your neck when his hips slam and stutter still. His arms are tight around you, both heaving deep breaths together.

Steve eases you both down onto your sides, tangled together. You feel dazed and heavy but the stroke of Steve’s fingers on your hip, his hot breath on your collarbone grounds you until the sounds of Chicago on a Saturday morning remind you that this wasn’t a dream.

“You okay? That.. Jesus…” Steve’s voice is breathy, but you hear his smile.

“Yeah. I’m…amazing.”

“Yeah, you are.”

There’s comfortable silence as you both come back to earth.

After a few moments Steve dots kisses to your cheeks, forehead and nose before he eases out of you to bin the full condom. Soon you’re back in bed with him, held safe in his arms. His cheeks are pink and you want to squeeze them.

“You’re so gorgeous, Steve.” Your fingers brush over the moles dotted along his cheekbone, and he catches your hand to kiss your fingers sweetly in distraction. “Hey. Look at me, Harrington.”

“Back to Harrington?” he teases, looking into your eyes with faux intensity to make you giggle. “M’lookin’.”

“Steve. Steven.” You match his teasing with pretend-seriousness.

“Not Steven. Please, baby.” His mouth turns down, exaggerating his unhappiness with you, but the stroke of his fingers on your hip say otherwise.

“Ms O’Donnell called you Steven.”

“Please don’t bring O’Donnell up while my dick is still out.”

You both dissolve into giggles, pressing your face against the chain on his chest. “Shut up, she had that much of an effect on you?! Calling you Steven gets you all worked up? Okay perv, good to know.”

“You’re sick in the head.” His voice is shaky with laughter against your hair. “S’a good thing you’re cute.”

“Mhm. Definitely a sicko. Two cute sickos.” You take his face in your hands again. “You’re a great date Steve Harrington.”

He smiles, but it falls a little - you just about catch it. It makes your heart hurt. Your inability to just say that you don’t want this to be a one time thing makes you want to pull your own hair out.

“I do my best. I had so much fun with you. I’m just kinda… sick of first dates though. Yknow?”

“I do know. But that’s not how last night felt.”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes as he nods.

“Definitely helped that we had a bit of a head start on the ‘where are you from?’ shit..” There’s a twinkle of playfulness in his heart wrenching sincerity.

“I hate that part.” You look into his eyes. It makes your chest flutter, how he looks at you.

“I know we didn’t know each other all that well in school..”

“Since kindergarten.” Your shrug is tiny, you smile playfully as he groans.

“Since kindergarten. Shit. What’ve I been doing all this time…” he asks the ceiling.

“Same as me. Getting out of Hawkins. Going on crappy dates...”

“Mm, true. Growing up, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment, “Last night wasn’t crappy. Best date I’ve been on in a long long time.”

“Me too. I think I’ll let you take me out again, if you want to…” you say, whispering bravely as you act all playful despite your hammering heart.

The smile on Steve’s face makes the butterflies in your stomach swoop again. You weren’t the only one who felt so dimmed by dating around, having your heart broken. There’s a beat of silence, charged electric as Steve looks at your lips and you touch his chain again.

“You like pancakes, or waffles?” Steve’s eyes twinkle.

You squeeze the bulk of his bicep. “French toast.”

His head tips back in laugh, showing off his delicious throat. “Oh she’s fancy?”

“She is.”

He leans in to kiss you in more time. “I can do fancy, baby.”

“You’ve done fancy twice. Fancy is hungry, Steve.”

Your laughter echoes in the golden morning light that fills your room as his fingers skate over your ribs, finding the ticklish spots before he hauls you as close as possible again.

Steve’s nose presses against your cheek, smooching one more kiss there before sitting up to find his pants. As you stargaze at the constellation on his broad back, you think this might just be the start of something really amazing.

comments, reblogs and likes are not simply appreciated - they are cherished

#steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington is a total dreamboat #my fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x f!reader #steve stranger things #Steve Harrington smut #bangaveragefics

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eternal-auditor · 6 days

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Barbatos Dating Headcanons

Did I mention I love Barb? Anyway, have another set of hcs Barbatos x GN!Reader, no specific genitalia mentioned, SFW & NSFW Some of them I included from the other users I found to like

SFW:

It's a miracle, even bigger than the Christmas one, that you've managed to start dating anyone from Hades besides Leviathan. You must be skilled in persuasion... Persuading him with another dirty secret from Solomon that is.

Levi will be very grumpy for a while, but he won't interfere. You dating Barbatos is still a good way to keep a close eye on you, but he can be petty about it sometimes.

If Leviathan hears how Barbatos gushes over his relationship with you, he will be hanged immediately. Unfortunately, it will only encourage him to continue, since he likes to be punished by his king. Barbatos ends up being hanged the biggest amount of times in the first month of dating you, which he brags about with pride.

Your mornings start with the most romantic and cheesy greetings from Barbatos. He always sends them before the sun is not even up yet, and he continues to lash you with compliments and sweet confessions throughout the day. You tell him that he doesn't need to overdo himself, but he responds that it just feels natural to him. You're the most beautiful and stunning person he's ever been with.

He gifted you your own noose the next Halloween, and you've put them on each other per tradition, while the rest of the devils on the square were seething with jealousy.

You tend to spend most of the holidays with him. One time while both of you were strolling on a festive street you've happened to run into his siblings. They were very excited to finally meet you, so they ended up bombarding you with tons of questions. Barbatos manged to calm them down, and you agreed to spend the rest of the day all together to get to know each other better.

He hopes you can move to Hades and live with him one day. He misses his other Sun when you're not around.

He occasionally gifts you lush rose bouquets that he grows out himself and even sends them to Gehenna. Barbatos will be absolutely delighted if you decide to gift him one in return.

He gets quiet and apathetic on overcast days, but your presence always manages to cheer him up. He even attends to his duties for a few hours, so Foras feels especially grateful whenever you happen to stay in Hades on bad weather season.

Your dates consist of sunbathing, strolling through parks or going to theaters, museums, concerts etc. He likes to appreciate beautiful things and art is one of them, though Hades art can be quite unique...

Whenever he goes sunbathing he always asks you to join him and depending on the mood it can become steamy heh.

Sometimes you get bored just lying around, so you play with his hair and decorate it with roses. He laughs at your whims and puts some of the flowers in your hair too.

NSFW:

In the most traditional and chivalrous spirit, he likes to take you on a date before a good fucking session.

Having sex with you and feeling up the sun at the same time is the biggest turn on for him. It arouses him so much he can go non-stop, but he knows your limits, so you take breaks, enjoying the warmth and giving each other lazy kisses.

But if you don't feel like doing it in the open, he will suggest moving into his coffin. When you lay there, he likes to rock inside you slowly, as he pulls you closer and whispers in your ear how good it feels.

His mouth and hands are always at work, tracing your skin and attacking your weak spots, heating you up in seconds.

Loves giving you oral and worship your body in the process, but cannot hold back for long whenever you decide to return the favor.

When he's in a romantic mood, he prefers positions where he can hold you close to relish in your shared intimacy and warmth.

But more than that, he loves to feel your clenching hole when he pushes his dick deeper inside it with each thrust. Seeing your face twist in brain melting pleasure while he unravels you on his thick cock is his favorite.

Being a devil from Hades means he can be prone to jealousy. In times like this, he ends up marking your whole body and filling you up to the brim with his cum.

He has a nice strong arms and a very juice thighs for you to ride on or to be suffocated in between.

He loves when you mark him, your touches feel like hot kisses from the sun. Give him a good stinging slaps and a strong squeeze on the neck.

Aside from his sun kink, he's also into bondage and sensory deprivation.

His abilities are not just deadly weapons. You won't need to use ropes with Barbatos, you have his vines for that, and they're strong enough to lift and bend you in whatever position you'd wish to as if you weight nothing. You can have a lot of fun with those things and the toys he had prepared.

Like many devils, Barbatos is very experienced. He would love to help you to fulfill your own fantasies and show how to maximize pleasure for the both of you.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#whb barbatos #I really wanna draw some juicy art with him #and I even have some ideas #but I barely have energy rn 💀

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the-daydreaming-show · 1 year

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Midnight thoughts on Batmom and her children's clothes.

WARNING: My mother was like this, Not on the money side, though. And you ask:¿Ella, are you projecting?, and I will answer: No. ¿Were you got such nonsense idea?

This gif represents my mind right now. I should be sleeping.

Batmom keeps its kids SPOTLESS when it comes to dressing. She doesn't control what they wear, but her kids have only the best brands on them. And if she couldn't get whatever they want in the best brand, it's gonna will be tailored for them.

JUST THE BEST FOR HER BABIES.

And she does not repeat it, there is no such thing as the younger brother taking the clothes of the older one in this family. Each child has their own style, autonomy and clothes, and they rarely agree on those things so sharing is never an option for them when it comes to clothing. If her baby grows out of their clothes, Batmom donate it or keep it for future grandchildren.

I mean, I'm talking about #silentluxury for her children, from they feet to the tip of their heads.

The funniest thing about all this is that most of the time they do not even realize it. It's not until a Gotham news forum pulls out a detailed article about the Wayne's silent luxury fashion and how it dates from Dick's early days at the mansion to the present day with Damian that they notice the pattern.

Like, imagine newly-reunited-with-his-family-but-still-rebellious Jason wearing a sweatshirt of the brand The Row that clearly bought his mom and costs at least $ 800 that he can not pay because he is a rebel and does not need his dad's money but he acepts gifts from his mum, of course.

Or little Dick returning from a day of art classes (because Batmom decided to give him other extracurricular activities other than a vigilante dressed as a traffic light) excited with his Dior jeans of $ 1300 dollars stained in paint, but with a work of art in his hand that he did only for his mommy.

Or Tim, wearing a pair of $450 black Gucci sandals, walking half-asleep out of his college class after he didn't hear his alarm, so he left with the first thing he found from his apartment.

Or Damian, putting one of his cashmire sweaters on Titus at Christmas, wearing a maching of his own, equally expensive and soft.

Also, imagine Cassandra only wearing THE BEST in balett shoes and equipment, totally unconsciously of the amount of money that really costs, all that because neither Batmom nor Bruce ever told her because it's nothing really that expensive for this family.

And no matter how many clothes they ruin. Never. And I repeat: NEVER their mom will allow her children to have something less.

(They are more spoiled than they themselves even realize.)

Bruce got jealous at some point and started letting Batmom choose his wardrobe as well.

Allright, NOW I'm done.

Good night.

#ella talks #batfamily x reader #batmom #jason todd x batmom #tim drake x batmom #batmom!reader #batfam x reader #dick grayson x batmom #damian wayne x batmom #Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader #Our boys deserve all the good in this world #They are mommys children #Every single one of them #No eseptions #i have to go to bed #I spend allí o time looking for the prices of very expensive clothing for this #I fell poor

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loupy-mongoose · 8 months

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As tends to happen when I’m in an art funk, I’ve stockpiled a few sketch sheets.

First up, a little Momo love!

These ones are based on a plushie I got for Christmas. I want to reverse engineer its pattern someday, because I ADORE its proportions!

(The bottom right two are just freehands, not based on the plushie.)

And then just some “whatever my hands felt like doing” doodles.

And… a character that I’ve been trying to iron out for a bit now… she’ll be relevant to the story at some point, but I’ve been enjoying drawing her and finally getting a solid idea of what I want her to be.

But since she’s relevant to the future, I’ll put her stuff under a read more, for those who would rather wait until she’s officially introduced.

This character is named Jamie, and is very near and dear to my heart. She’s not only an old OC of mine, but she—with help from a Gardevoir— is basically the one who got me out of a human drawing phobia many years ago. (So you can thank her for me being bold enough to share today, lol.) She started out as a trainer-sona, but quickly became a character all her own, very different from me as a person.

Anyway, first for her, some gesture things and mood drawings.

Some hairdo practice

(I default to making parts either in the middle or on the left, hence the blurb in there, lol.)

And some fun I had with her Crobat, partially inspired by a comment from @penumbramewtwos

(I forgot her scars there, but it kinda works because I feel like this would happen before she got them. X3)

And finally, the part where I really felt like I was getting somewhere with her, aka some clothing testing.

I’ve been wanting to hold off revealing her until she comes into the story, but I really like how these all turned out, and I don’t know when I’ll be ready to move the story along. On top of that, her reveal really wouldn't have any special impact to most of you, since you don't know her. (Aside from a select few.)

So I thought I’d give in and share her with you all. Plus that frees me up to share more doodles of her if I so choose.

I hope you enjoy! ^v^

#Linden Roots #art #doodle dump #babbies #branch

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thmles · 1 year

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| August.

- You weren't mine to lose.

[pairing: miles morales x best friend!reader]

[warnings: sweet to angst, a bit of spoilers since the some scenes described came from the movie, regret, heartbreak]

[a/n: if you know august by taylor swift, yk the pain. it's based off that song bc i was thinking about some past situationships and how for some of them i was just a rebound so... anyway for the you're losing me fic, i'm not sure if i would make a part two, but i'll definitely think about it! anyways enjoy 🫶🏻]

You and Miles had met when your family moved into the apartment above them. You were both nine and to be honest, you kind of saw him as weird. When you were hanging out (much to your dismay, you would rather read than be with some boy), he would mumble songs as he drew on the sketchpad he got for his birthday. You, on the other hand, were silently reading fantasy novels that you got for Christmas. Despite your differences, you made quite the pair even going into high school.

Summer had approached Brooklyn faster than you anticipated. It was hot and humid. The air conditioning in your room would not work for some unknown reason and you were stuck sweating it out in your room. You grabbed a folder and used it to fan your face. A knock on your door grabbed your attention before eventually opening. “Miles, you can come into my room, you know.” You told him with a slight edge to your voice. He let out a chuckle before replying, “That’s just rude. My mom raised me better.” You rolled your eyes and stood to the side to let him in. You closed the door behind him as he sat on your desk chair and twirled around.

“Something on your mind, Morales?” You ask him as you sit on your bed cross-legged. You could tell he was nervous. He was looking down on the floor and sort of sweating. “A-Ah, it’s nothing. I just, uhm.” Miles mumbled out. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior. He was rarely ever like this.

“Just what?”

“Well, I was hoping that Gwen would come back and we could go to an art museum.” Miles paused to look at you to which you just stared back at him.

“And what do you want me to do?” You would be sad if Miles asked you only because Gwen wasn’t around. But, time with Miles is still better than anything. You have harbored a crush on him since you guys were ten. At first you were even in denial of your feelings for the boy but when you guys danced at your school’s halloween party, you knew it was over for you.

“Come with me instead? I mean do you want to stay in this heat?” Miles in a know-it-all tone. You rolled your eyes before chucking the folder you were using at his face. He laughed as he caught it with ease, setting it on your desk.

“Is it a yes or no?”

“What do you think, Morales?”

And that was the beginning of an eventful summer. You two were going out together more often than staying in. Everyday was a summer adventure for the both of you. Summer filled with laughter, longing stares, and nightly stargazing at the rooftop. It was the best summer you ever had, especially because you two might or might not have shared a kiss underneath the moonlight. You weren’t sure what exactly the label you guys had. You guys were best friends, for sure, but best friends don’t look at each other that way. They don’t kiss and draw the other on their sketchbook. They don’t take polaroids of each other to keep in their wallets to admire and treasure.

But all things came crashing down when you saw Miles with Gwen that autumn at his dad’s party. You were clutching the sketchbook he left at your desk the last time you guys hung out. Miles looked so…so in love with Gwen. Like she was the life of the party. You had an epiphany. All summer, you thought he looked at you lovingly. But, he wasn’t. It was different from the one he was giving Gwen right now. You knew better than to look through his sketchbook because it was his safe space. He could draw and doodle all that he wanted to help with the stress of life and school. As you opened the first few pages, it was filled with random sort of graffiti art. Flipping through more pages, there were drawings of spiders, Spider-Man, and,

“Gwen.” You breathed out. Tears were pooling at your eyes as more and more pages were filled with drawings of her that you were sure he drew over the summer. But there was only one drawing of you. The page also contained the polaroid he took of you as you were looking out into the city. You shut the notebook with one hand and wiped your tears with the other. His mom walked over to you while holding a plate of cake. She greeted other guests before she was in front of you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asked with concern. She rubbed your back as you tried to prevent more tears from rolling down your face.

“Tía, can you…can you give this to Miles?” You told her softly and handed her the sketchbook. She looked confused but accepted it nonetheless. “And tell him to never talk to me again.”

You left that party without looking back. You weren’t even sure what to say to Miles or his parents. That he made you his rebound? That you were just a summer fling? You locked yourself in your room before your dad could question why you weren't at the party upstairs. You didn’t even make it to bed before you broke down sobbing. You slid against the door and began to cry. Your heart ached as memories of the wonderful summer you had flashed in your mind. You stood up and grabbed your wallet from your desk to pull out the polaroid of Miles’ stuffed face that you thought was cute. You took that picture when he was eating too much cake from your dad’s birthday. You stuffed it inside a drawer because you knew you couldn’t get yourself to get rid of it.

That night Miles kept trying to call you to which you promptly put your phone on ‘Do not disturb.’ You spent hours with a tear stained face and a numb heart. You stared out into space wondering what you did to deserve this pain. But you remembered that, it was kind of your fault too. Who were you to assume you and Miles had something after a summer filled with dates and stolen kisses? You were just his best friend. You were just a rebound. A summer fling.

“You weren’t mine to lose.” You mumbled to yourself as you brought your knees to your chest to hug them. Meanwhile, Miles is stuck in another dimension wishing he could go back to fix the mess he made, to go back to you and the amazing summer you had.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #into the spider verse #miles morales x you #miguel o'hara x reader

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axolotlbottle · 2 months

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❝Like father, like son❞

Art done by my bestie @jester0jpeg !! We both made our own versions / lore of the postal dudes & postal series!!

Postal dude 1 with his son (little kid-postal dude 2! Who we call "the postal kid!").

We actually gave them names, too! (Sorry, they're not P names, but I could care less. Feel free to call them Postal dude and Postal kid if it bothers you that much).

PD1's name is Michael Toddhunter, and his son's (PD2) name is Aster Toddhunter (hehe get it? As in "disaster").

Preface: This takes place AFTER the first postal game. This is an AU of sorts, so just erase the ending of the game + a bunch of other things, and have Michael fuck off somewhere, nobody ever knowing his identity so he gets away with everything. That was a "TLDR" explanation of it. We could maybe explain this better on a different post in the future.

Anyways! Here's some lore we have about them:

Michael is the Command Sergeant Major for U.S army's RI Arsenal. Yes, he did serve in the army before going postal in the first game. Don't ask how he got up to that rank because god knows I don't know either.

He and Aster live in the Quad cities, Illinois, aka some fuck ass midwestern region of cities that only gets some attention from the John deere company that hogs the area. Fuck john deere.

Michael is a single dad. He somehow managed to win all custody over Aster. He doesn't talk about his ex-gf.

They live in a house that's next to a trailer park, so they're not exactly dirt fuckin' poor but they ain't buying branded food either. They're still trailer park trash without living directly in the trailer park though.

Michael has tried to give Aster some sense of normality (sorta) but Aster clearly is not cut out to be a normal child. He's very rowdy, violent, and bullies the neighborhood kids (if you get the reference, you're cool).

Michael calls Aster "My little wild thing" (reference to Aster's favorite book; where the wild things are).

When Aster was 5, for Christmas, Michael gifted him a black cat he bought for $10 at the pet store ( he didn't question it). Michael cruelly didn't think the cat would last long, but that cat might as well outlive him. Aster named the cat "Kostroma" and has shoved his dad's guns up it's ass and used it as a silencer to shoot at beer bottles in their backyard. Kostroma hasn't died (nor appears to be scarred or traumatized), no matter what Aster has put him through. He's like some weird immortal cat (who surprisedly loves Aster as much as Aster loves him). Michael and Aster don't question it.

Aster loves uncrustables. His addiction literaly is grape jelly uncrustables. He has to have one once a day or else he'll start wreaking havoc in the neighborhood.

Michael brings Aster to work sometimes (usually when Aster gets kicked out of school or is being too insufferable for the neighborhood). He can't help it, and it's not like anybody can give him shit for it.

That's all we'll share for now!! Hopefully we'll post more in the future!! Me and my bestie have been working on this since like late May, and we plan to continue to work on it >;). I'll leave ya'll with this doodle I did of Kostroma cat.

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queensunshinee · 4 months

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Time Of Our Lives || Part 6

Part 6:

"I brought that disgusting snack with the jam you like," Art sat down in the seat next to Liana on the plane and glanced at her for a second. She had fallen asleep. He didn’t know when or how she managed it, but he knew that if the recent period had been hard for him, Liana had completely collapsed into herself. She managed to fight with him twice, apologize three times (he wouldn’t lie, he enjoyed every "sorry for being a bitch" he received, because up until a few months ago, she wouldn’t apologize at all) and she cried a lot. He knew she cried because every time he saw her in the library (the only place he managed to find her in the past month), her cheeks were puffier than usual, and her eyes were red. Now that they were traveling home for the holidays, he hoped she could rest and, if he were to be really greedy, Art hoped she would have time for him again.

Without him knowing how it happened, her head found its place on his shoulder, causing him to remember that time he was sick and woke up next to her. The first thought that crossed his mind that morning was that the only position that could bring him closer to Liana was to be physically inside Liana. His dick felt the same way when he woke up that day, quietly went to the bathroom, and then went for a run. Since then, he had occasional flashes of the image of his legs tangled with hers and his hands holding her as if she were his only grip on reality. Like now, with her head on his shoulder and her breathing heavy. He found himself sighing and closing his eyes as well.

"You're coming for Christmas, right?" Art asked as they walked toward her parents' car, carrying his bag in one hand and her suitcase in the other (despite Liana's insistence that she could carry it herself). "You know we're Jewish and we celebrate Hanukkah, right, Art?" she said, amused. Now that she had a little break, she planned to sleep so much that her face would take on the shape of her pillow. "Really, Liana Levy?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Do you usually come to my parents thing?" "Now that you'll be there too, I'll ask my parents to stay home and watch TV." When Art was in boarding school, he didn't come home for the holidays; it was a training period, and he didn’t want to waste it. "You know that just means I'll come to you, right?" he replied, not even looking at her. Art didn’t have many friends from home. Neither did Liana. She planned to meet up with Rebecca, and Jake had sent her a message asking if she was coming for the holidays. She hadn’t replied yet. "Usually your parents put up a small menorah on the window. It's cute," she shrugged and from a distance saw her dad leaning on the car. "Look, Art." She pointed in his direction and quickened her pace, seeing Art do the same. "Three months and you're already her soldier," her dad said as he hugged her, referring to her suitcase that Art had carried. "What can I do? She has that kind of influence," Art winked playfully and hugged Liana's dad as well. They really liked each other. They always talked about sports and Stanford, sharing stories that Liana couldn’t relate to. "So, I'll see you in two days?" Art asked as her dad parked in front of his house. "Don't count on it, Donaldson," she replied, and he rolled his eyes as he walked away. "You two seem closer," her dad observed. "We're fine," she summed up, not wanting to agree but knowing he was right.

The next day, Liana called Art in the afternoon. "I knew you'd miss me," he sounded amused. "Where are you, why are you out of breath?" she asked, confused. "I went to play tennis with my dad. I'm trying not to embarrass him, and now we're resting for the third time because he's old," Art replied. "Why did you call?" he asked. "Do you want to come to a party tonight?" she asked in return. "You don't have to, but Rebecca invited me to Sean's party, and I think he's a douchebag, but Rebecca probably wants to hook up with him, and she'll probably ditch me during the evening, and I think Jake will be there, and to be honest, I'd rather stay home, but Rebecca really asked. Will you come with us?" she asked after a stream of murmurs. There was something pleading in her voice, and Art couldn't help but feel a slight tingle all over his body. It was something he couldn't pinpoint the source of, but hearing Liana beg was a sound he didn't know his ears needed.

"What's in it for me?" he tried to make the most of a situation where he had nothing to lose. "Art." Her tone was warning. "I'm serious," he retorted, even though he wasn't. "So am I. We'll pick you up at nine, dress like a normal person, please. Button-down shirt and jeans, don't come in a Stanford shirt." He could hear the sarcasm. "You know if you want something, you're not supposed to insult me, right?" he replied. "That's my love language." She said, and he didn't stop responding that he knew before she hung up.

"We're going to get drunk, right?" Liana asked him as she put a hand on a bottle of gin. "Will I have to babysit you today, Li?" he asked, amused by the situation. "No. Because you'll get drunk with me. I told you Rebecca would leave," she told him, pouring them both a tequila shot. "You're on vacation, Art. You can afford one night of alcohol. I promise to be responsible for the rest of the break. We'll only drink champagne on New Year's Eve. I promise to be good," she smiled her most convincing smile. Liana hoped it would have an effect, although Art didn't easily give in to manipulations, especially not when they were so transparent. "You'll be good?" he asked, raising the shot glass like her. "I'll be the best," she replied, and they both drank. This was going to be a long night.

Four shots in and a cup of cheap keg beer later, Art and Liana found themselves sitting outside on the synthetic grass at Sean's house. The December cold didn't affect either of them due to the amount of alcohol. "Lia, I didn't know you were here," they turned together a second after they sat down, seeing Jake. "James," Art smiled a smile Liana knew exactly what it meant; Jake didn't stand a chance. He was on the sharp tongue radar of Art Donaldson, who, under the guise of niceness, could be the most ruthless person in the world. "It's Jake," the other replied. "Can we talk?" he turned to her. "We're busy, try later, but I wouldn't count on it," the smile didn't leave Art's face while he spoke. "Liana." Jake's voice was piercing. "I have nothing to talk to you about right now, Jake, sorry. Don't ruin my night," she tried to be gentle, but they both knew he didn't deserve it. He nodded and walked away in defeat. "That was fun. Do you have any other exes to bully?" Art asked, taking another sip from the bottle they had taken with them. "Arthur!" she feigned an angry voice and lightly slapped his hand, but he quickly grabbed her hand in his. "You're supposed to be good, not violent," he said, tracing small circles on the hand he refused to let go of. "I can be both at the same time." She shrugged, snatching the bottle from him with her free hand.

"Lindsey has been eyeing you all night; you could totally go for it," she said, examining him. He glanced over at Lindsey, a blonde girl he remembered from when they were younger. Her body was well-sculpted, and the dress she wore suited her. "No, tonight it's just you and me, Li. You won't get rid of me and go to James," he said, half-humor, half-serious. He didn't want her to go to her ex. "Okay." She shrugged and laid her head on his knees without asking, looking at him with an amused look he returned. "Are you drunk?" he asked. "No, you're drunk," she stated. "Why did you break up with James?" "His name is Jake." "Why do you always evade when I ask you?" He couldn't stop looking at her. She was…his tonight. Close to him. Looking only at him. Needy as fuck. As if she only saw him from the moment they entered this house. "Because it's embarrassing…" she took another sip and choked a little. "Jesus, Li, don't drink while lying down." Art scolded and snatched the bottle from her, taking another swig. "Tell me." His finger lingered in her hair and gently brushed her cheek; he saw how she instinctively closed her eyes from the cold touch. "Tell me," he repeated, continuing to caress her face gently and moving slightly to her neck, testing the boundaries of this evening. "You'll laugh at me." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Tell me," he said with the same firmness that made her swallow. An intonation she had never heard from him before. A voice she didn't know how to refuse. "I didn't want to sleep with him." She mumbled and tried to turn her face the other way, forgetting for a moment that Art's hand was there, and just as it had stroked before, it now made sure to stabilize her head exactly where he wanted it. With eyes on him. Eyes that pierced directly into her soul if that was possible. If it wasn't the alcohol that made her succumb to the blue eyes that stared at her. "Why would I laugh at you?" he asked. "Because it's embarrassing not to want to sleep with your boyfriend when you're 19." She really didn't want to keep looking at him when she said it, but he didn't let her escape the feeling of surrender she was experiencing right now. "I would never judge you for that, Li. More than that, I'm quite glad you didn't sleep with that loser," his hand went back to making light movements on her cheek, but the atmosphere in the air changed. "Why?" she asked quietly. "Why what?" he replied. "Why are you glad?" she slowly sat up, and Art helped her with a hand he placed on her lower back, not removing it when she sat closer than she had before. "Li…" his nose touched hers for a few seconds, and he closed his eyes. "Are you going to do that thing where you whisper sweet nothings and pretend to be nice so I'll go home with you?" she asked, feeling bold, and he smiled, his eyes still closed. "That's pointless; we both know I don't have a single nice bone in my body," he managed to find words, opening his eyes for a second to see her like he hadn't seen her before. Her cheeks were flushed like his from the alcohol and the cold, her lips half-parted, and her green eyes fixed on him. "And I'll still go home with you?" her voice was quiet and needy, if someone asked Art, he would say almost musical. "Yes, you'll still go home with me, Li." He declared. And so, with both of them half-drunk, Art and Liana's lips met. It was a kiss that knocked the air out of their lungs, built on the sexual tension they had carried for years without realizing it. Liana's hands tried to touch every part of him while Art's hands were experienced and steady on her waist. His lips moved to her neck, and she let out a sound that Art could swear was pornographic, one he didn't want anyone else to hear from her ever.

"We're leaving. Now," he declared, giving her a look that left no room for doubt. This night was just beginning.

This one is a bit longer, so I hope it's OK... No Patrick in this one, but we needed some development with Art after that last part. Hope you like it. Thanks for engaging and sending me your thoughts. Please continue to do that. And if you want me to tag you for future parts, say the word ❤️

taglist: @swetearss ganana yoitsme-04

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #challengers

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