#this is like super over exposed but it is not a bright day and my room has like no good natural lighting lmao

[kowaibunny]

Ham-Ham crew completed! 💖🐹

[scudslut]

Fiending for Daryl x F!reader at the point where they're super domestic and sexually comfortable with each other. Like making jokes like "I'll do that thing you like if you take Dog for a walk ;)" and just being super teasing and playful with each other

lazy mornings w/ daryl

daryl x f!reader

wc: 1k

warnings: teasing, slight allusions to sex, mdni

a/n: omfg i adored this idea. thinking about daryl finally super comfortable with you, able to relax and just be himself is just🥹 i hope this is close to what you wanted!! i kinda got carried away in my imagination with this one lol. alsooo, i have a few other requests i’m working on, i promise i’m not skipping anyone’s i just take forever to write:,)

daryl would absolutely love to tease you. he just loved to see that little spark flash in your eyes, reminding him that you want him and he has you.

he was incredibly shy initiating anything sexual during the first couple years of your relationship. and still to this day it’s not often that he’ll outright vocalize his lust, but rather use his actions and subtle, playful remarks that’ll have you ready to pounce on him the first moment you get. the little sanctuary you call home is his favorite place in the world, and it was only ever you who got to see this goofy, mischievous side of him.

and he found he couldn’t help himself, watching you around the house, so casual and domesticated.

you’d play quiet music often on the little record player he’d found, hair tied up in some messy knot, loose shorts and a small t-shirt the only things adorning your soft skin as you read, or cooked, or whatever hobby was interesting you at the time. it brought out intense feelings inside of him, ones he never imagined he’d ever feel and it almost made him giddy. so happy he could provide that safety for you to simply be, and ravenously hungry to devour you whole any chance he got.

it must’ve been sometime in early may he figured. the sun was bright in the sky no later than 6am the past few weeks. mornings still brisk but afternoons hot and nearing swim-worthy. you both rose late that day, having spent a little extra time in bed where the light flooded through the cabin windows, glowing across fluffy sheets and warm skin, simply too soothing to move from right away. he always woke before you and always had to drink you in for a while, admiring how the sun danced through the strands of your wild hair across the pillows. your chest rose so fluently and calmly it made his own tight. he’d ingrain that picture deep in his memory; your vibrant, lively body something he’d protect till his last dying breath.

you had a leg propped outside the blankets, tossed close to his body subconsciously and he brought his fingers to the soft skin of your exposed thigh, painting invisible shapes. it only took a few minutes before you started mumbling sleepily as he dragged them upwards, towards your inner thigh.

“mmm, good morning,” you breathed softly, eyes still shut but a lazy smile gracing your features.

“mornin' sunshine,” he drawled, leaning down to press light kisses over his artwork. “sleep alright?”

“mhm, you?”

he nodded against your skin. he always slept well next to you, especially now he had you all to himself; your little hole in the woods providing much-needed peace and solitude after all the years without. just you, dog, and acres of tall green trees.

speaking of which, he noticed the door creaking open behind him as he placed more nips and kisses, paws padding across the wooden floors at the sound of your voices finally awake.

his tongue dragged up, grazing over the hem of your panties. your hips shifted beneath him as you moaned softly. “can we make it an agreement that you always wake me up like this?” you gasped when his hands joined in, massaging your plush hips with strong hands.

he snorted at that, “i already always do.”

“mm, right,” you muttered quickly distracted as your hands found purchase on his soft brown locks. your morning brain never failed to amuse him. you’d mutter nonsense half asleep, sure to barely remember when you fully came too.

his fingers were just slipping under the waistband when dog whimpered quietly behind you both. a smirk cast over his face, already hearing your whines of dismay at what he was about to do.

“think somebody needs a mornin' walk,” he pulled away with a kiss to the little bow at the hem. a low groan followed in suit just as he expected and he chuckled slightly.

“D… just a few more minutes.”

but he was already dragging his body off the mattress, grabbing a random strewn shirt and pulling it over his head.

“such a tease, dixon,” he heard from the bed, turning to see you propped up with a phony pout. the corners of his eyes crinkled in a grin at your state, hair wild from sleep, and cheeks flushed pink.

“how bout this,” he bargained, leaning back down to peck your ankle and slowly up your calf. “we take him out quickly, and then i’ll bring ya right back here and let ya have yer way with me… sound fair?”

he watched as you feigned contemplation.

“come on, look at that face,” he pointed to dog, who sat patiently at the foot of the bed, tail wagging.

“never thought i’d get cockblocked by a dog, but, alas,” you sighed, trying your best to cover the grin on your face.

daryl bent over, shielding dog's ears. “hey! he can hear ya y’know,” and there was so more hiding your grin, giggles escaping your lips in fit.

he’d never seen you move so fast after that, speedily throwing on a top that barely covered your ass and rushing to the front door.

“come on doggy boy! your dad and i have a date, we gotta make this quick,” you mused loudly through the house, dog chasing after you.

he couldn’t help but shake his head in laughter, following after his family blissfully. this was definitely his favorite place in the world.

sorry i’m so cheesy byyee❤️

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | 3 AM

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF’s Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: sneaking around, sloppy making out, lots of cuddling and kissing, honestly this is super soft, drunk San is a whole different type of menace, a little angst on OC's part, pet names deployed as weapons (baby) Word Count: 2.1k Disclaimers: SFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend’s little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That’s it. How did this happen?

A/N: This started with talking about drunk San with @minttangerines and @kiestrokes, and then @moni-logues made me miss this couple, so boom! New vignette! I should warn you that I wrote this over the course of 2 days, entirely between the hours of midnight and 5 am because I've been staying up wayyyy too late to watch the Coachella livestreams (can we talk about Chellateez?! because holy shit!), so it's probably a mess and it's unbeta'd, so… blame any typos or incoherency on my fucked up sleep schedule! 🥱

Lyrics are from "Moondance" by Van Morrison, inspired by that one toktoq of San singing that song, which absolutely killed me.

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It’s You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

It’s three in the morning, and you’re wide awake, at your desk, working frantically on an article whose deadline is mere hours away. For not the first time tonight, you curse your natural inclination towards procrastination and scrub your hand down your face, wishing you’d chosen a different career. 

There’s some noise outside your door and you realize San must be home. He’d been down at the Blue Bird with Hongjoong, drinking and hanging out with Wooyoung as he bartended. From the way San’s shuffling around, it sounds like Woo had been his typical kind self and given San more generous pours than he should have. A loud “oof” resonates, and you hear the armchair scrape the floor a bit, as if he were setting it back in its place. You wince, hoping he didn’t wake his sister, who has an early shift and needs to be up at dawn.

“Noona. Nooooooona.” Tap tap tappity tap. “Are you up? I can see - I can see your light.” 

San raps on your door, calling out to you in a voice that’s hushed but maybe not quite as quiet as he thinks it is. From his spot on your bed, Nero lifts his head off his paws at the sound, then blinks at you with his bright green eyes. 

“I know. He’s loud as fuck, isn’t he?” With a cluck of your tongue, you quickly hop up and open the door. San must’ve been leaning against it, because suddenly you’ve got a mountain on top of you, a loose-limbed one at that, eagerly but clumsily wrapping its arms around you. “San!” 

“Hiiiii,” San coos into your shoulder, where he’s buried his face. You shudder slightly as his breath tickles your skin exposed by the tank top you wear, and stagger away from the door enough to close it quietly as you can, not an easy task to do given the giant mass of man hanging his dead weight on you. 

“You know, your sister is sleeping just on the other side of this wall,” you remind him, but he doesn’t respond, too busy lathering the column of your neck with tiny kisses. “San. Come on, sit down.” 

With some stumbling from San and a not insignificant effort on your part, the two of you make it over to your bed. Your attempt at coaxing San into a sitting position fails miserably as he promptly splays on his back, pulling you on top of him. Nero hops off the bed in a huff. 

You go down like a sack of flour, not a gram of gracefulness in your fall, but San appears not to notice when your chin bounces off his sternum or your knee rams his thigh. He sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around your back, tucking you against him.

“Mmmm. So nice,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

It’s three in the morning, and you need to finish this damn article. Except that right now, your body is telling you that what you really need is to stay exactly where you are. Because the minute the warmth of San’s embrace surrounded you, your stress melted away. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms you, makes your own breathing slow. You close your eyes, nestling closer to him, sliding your own arms around his waist. You could so easily fall asleep like this. 

But he can’t sleep here. 

“San. San, are you awake?” 

“I’m awake,” he replies, but with closed eyes, which doesn’t really give you a lot of confidence in his response. “I am,” he insists when you shake him, rolling his head away, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warn him sternly. “I mean it!” 

San smiles, the one that tells you that he knows you’re going to give in to him, which is the smile you tend to see him flash the most often, because you’re weak for him and always giving in. But this isn’t one of those times when you can indulge him. No matter how much you want to. 

“Wish you’d come to the bar tonight. Wanted you there.” 

You knew that. He’d told you as much when he’d texted earlier. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down for the sake of remaining gainfully employed. He’d tried to convince you otherwise at first but finally said he understood. And then sent you a series of sad selfies, each one more pathetic than the last, lips puffing to an extreme. Because he understands the power that pout holds over you.

It’s embarrassing how bad you’re down for this man.

San’s fingers dance idly down your spine, and you sigh, eyes slipping shut again as you speak. “Believe me, I would’ve rather been there with you.” 

He hums, fingertips quickening their light minuet. He mumbles something into your hair, low and unintelligible from the way his lips are smushed against your head, so it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s not talking, he’s singing. 

“... marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes…” 

“San,” you begin, but before you can warn him not to get any louder, he does so anyway, raising his beautiful voice a little, starting to get into it. 

“A fantabulous night to make romance, 'neath the cover of October skies…”

“Shhh!” Your shushing is cut short by your giggling, as you clap a hand over San’s mouth. “Oh my god, now is not the time for this!” 

This is one of San’s more notable habits - when a song gets stuck in his head, you’ll hear him singing it for days, just walking around the apartment humming the melody or, if he has an audience, belting out the lines. He knows how much you love his sweet tenor. Another fact about you he’s filed away to devastate you with at the most opportune times.

Like when you need to kick him out of your bed. 

He continues singing despite your hand pressing on his lips, slurring the words directly into your palm. His eyebrows are working overtime, top half of his face playfully conveying whatever lyrics are being smothered against your skin. He’s so ridiculous, so over-the-top, even at three in the morning when anyone else would be exhausted, like you felt before he walked into your room, since his energy is infectious and perked you up better than the multiple cups of coffee you downed in your desperate attempt to stay awake. That’s San for you - he’s always giving you something when you need it - his time, his help, his energy. 

So you decide to give him something back, and replace your hand with your mouth, drawing him into a tender kiss, imbuing it with all those things you feel but never say. His muffled singing becomes a hum becomes a moan, at first surprised, then pleased. One of his hands drops to your thigh and with a bit of urgent tugging, he maneuvers you on top of him, chest pressed to chest.

His kissing is only the slightest bit sloppier when he’s been drinking, wetter from his tongue caressing yours with somewhat less skill than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You like seeing this side of him, looser with his inhibitions, with whatever holds him in place - or holds him back. One day you’ll ask him to show you more, when you’re both sober. 

And when things are different. Less… ambiguous between the two of you. 

If you reach that point. 

“Noona.” San whispers, thankfully pulling you from the heavier thoughts threatening to sink you right out of the moment. You open your eyes to look at him as he pecks your cheeks.  “I like kissing you.” 

You grin, letting your forehead knock against his. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.” 

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” The look he gives you would melt the hardest of hearts. This is why you’re not afraid to be needy with San. There’s no reason to be, not when he’s just the same. 

“I like kissing you too,” you declare, kissing the tip of his nose, laughing at the way his eyes cross as he follows your lips. “But now’s not the time for that, either.” 

“Then what time is it?”

Laughing, you gently guide him into a sitting position, keeping your arms looped over his shoulders. His lust is morphing into sleepiness, eyelids drooping as he gazes at you, and your heart goes so soft at the sight of him. 

“It’s time for you to go to bed.” 

“Okay,” he chirps, immediately flopping onto his back again. 

“Ohhhh no, not here. You gotta go. I still have to finish my work, and you…” The words stick in your throat. You can’t be here. You don’t want to say them. You want him to be here. Tonight, and tomorrow, and on and on. 

But that’s a conversation for another time. Not three in the morning.

“You have to go,” you groan, sliding off the bed and grabbing his arms, less gentle and more insistent this time. “Come on, get up!” 

San lets out a whine of protest. “But baby, why can’t I stay here?” 

Oh, he would drop a ‘baby’ now, slipping it in so casually, so naturally, like there’s nothing unusual about him calling you that. As if it’s not something new he only started doing the other day, happening maybe a handful of times since. 

Since the two of you have been doing this undefined thing, there’s really only been one unspoken rule. You sleep in your bed, and he sleeps on the couch. Even on the nights when Haneul’s working the late shift, or she’s over at Jongho’s. You never know if she’ll come home early, so you don’t risk it. It’s just easier this way.

Doesn’t mean you like it, though. 

“Because. If Haneul catches you coming out of here - “

The sound of a door opening makes you freeze right down to your tongue, leaving your sentence unfinished. Your head swivels towards your own door. A pair of feet pad down the hall, getting closer, then fading away, until you hear another door being closed. The bathroom. 

“Noona.” 

You turn to find a sober-looking San staring at you. He reaches out, hands settling on your hips, holding on to you as you stand between his legs. Clinging again. 

“She’s in early today, right?” 

The two of you probably know Haneul’s schedule better than she does. You nod.

“Then I’ll just stay in here. She’ll think I never came home.” 

He makes it sound so simple. So reasonable. He’ll stay here until she leaves. Why didn’t you think of that? Is it because you don’t like thinking of San with someone else, even if said person is an imaginary person who exists solely to provide an excuse that will allow you to get what you want? And if you get what you want now, it’s only going to hurt more when you can’t have it anymore?

Yeah, that’s probably it. 

“I don’t know…” you bite your lip.

“Come on,” he wheedles, drawing you into his lap again, cupping your face with both hands. “Let me stay with you. Don’t you want me?” 

And there it goes, the last remaining bit of your resistance. 

“Okay.”

San seems a little shocked, face lighting up in delight, and you wonder if it’s at how quickly you agreed, or that you agreed at all. Maybe both.

“But we have to be quiet. So, you know…” You trail off, gesturing wordlessly. 

“No moondancing?” He emphasizes the word heavily, lifting a brow, and you roll your eyes but grin as well.

“Right, none of that.”

“Just cuddles?” 

As if he needs to ask. You nod. “But I’m not coming to bed until I finish my work.” You reclaim your seat at your desk, folding your arms over the back of it, trying to give the appearance of someone with a solid backbone, since yours is apparently made of pudding. 

“That’s okay,” San says, already tugging his shirt off, then his pants, until he’s only in his boxer briefs. He peels back your comforter, sliding into the soft sheets, and again the action is so natural, so normal, like he does this every night, that something in your chest constricts. “I’ll just wait for you.” 

Your first thought is that you should inform him that he’s going to be waiting a while, but then again, maybe he won’t. 

You’re feeling suddenly inspired. 

(It’s three in the morning, and you’re falling in love.)

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee @hiefisch

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[littleluvsie]

in moments | spencer reid x reader

a/n: little thing i wrote today maybe intended for longer series, not super edited (sorry hehe). trying to get back into the habit of writing with this new side blog. send me any requests if you'd like <3

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fem reader, use of she/her pronouns (reader), shy!reader, early seasons shy spencer, just pure fluff (for now)

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that the BAU changed when you and Spencer seemingly arrived at their doorstep out of nowhere – both of you young and bright-eyed, but an undeniable force together, a wealth of intelligence. But sometimes – especially in moments like this – the team wondered how either of you managed to function in society up until now. Everyone is watching curiously, trying and failing to hide their amused smiles behind their coffee cups.

You’re nervous. They see it in the way you fiddle with the hem of your sweater behind your back, the way you squeak out your words like you’re afraid of them. If anxiety were personified, it’d look incredibly reminiscent of you. Spencer isn’t any better. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, every inch of exposed skin is visibly tinted with a cherry-red hue, and his eyes continue to fixate on everything, everywhere except your face. 

“How are they even getting anything done right now? They look like they’re both about to throw up,” Emily mutters. 

Morgan nods, “My money is on both of them having nervous breakdowns in the next ten minutes.” 

Penelope tries her very best to swallow her laugh, but her efforts prove to be futile as a giggle manages to escape from her lips anyway. She quickly coughs and covers her mouth with her fingertips in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. Both you and Spencer hear it and glance over with adorably similar facial expressions, brows tightly knitted together and a hint of a pout gracing your lips. 

When you’re only met with silence, you tilt your head questioningly. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing! How is it going over there? Did you guys find anything?” 

“Yeah, actually. Spencer thinks that the Unsub’s location can be narrowed down to these specific neighborhoods given the pattern of…” As you turn to look at Spencer, you realize you’ve made the greatest mistake in your life. It’s as if every possible nerve ending you have in your body surges with electrical current, and you swear you can feel your heart pumping from the middle of your throat. His eyes meet yours, and he’s closer to you than you remember. Was he here the whole time? You have the sudden urge to crawl under the desk and stay there for as long as you can get away with it.

Do his lips always look like this? Has his hair grown out since yesterday? Is he furrowing his brows?

You realize that you haven’t spoken in what must be at least thirty seconds. Spencer would know how long. You feel even worse.  

“Given the patterns in where the victims were found.” you finish quietly. 

Spencer swivels his chair to face the team and continues with his explanation, but you can barely hear him as all of your thoughts focus on the fact that his leg is now pressed up against yours. You’ve come to the natural conclusion that your brain is no longer functional anymore, your career is over. Maybe if you beg on your knees, Hotch will let you take a sick day? 

“Alright, let’s send smaller teams out and cover all possible locations, see what we can find,” Hotch announces from behind you. As he begins assigning pairs, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Now, you’ll have at least a few hours before you have to face Spencer again, and hopefully, by that point, all of the residual awkwardness of your stumble will be completely obliterated from everyone’s memory.

“And (Y/N) and Reid, you’ll take the last of the locations. Let’s debrief here once we’re done.” 

As you stare at Hotch in disbelief, you swear there’s a very, very faint hint of a smile on his face. 

You’re going to kill him. 

~*~*~

Spencer reads through the case file for the millionth time since getting in the car with you. There’s really no point to it; you and everyone else knows he has an eidetic memory, he only had to read it once. If you asked, he’d lie and tell you he does it to pass the time or to just fill the silence with the sound of pages turning. But he thinks he really does it so that he doesn’t have to hear himself stumble over his words trying to talk to you. 

It’s torture, being around you. You’re pretty and smart and nice and so wonderful, and if he thinks about it for too long, it hurts his head. Spencer wants to be around you all of the time and simultaneously none of the time – it’s an unsolvable equation, and he hates it. It’s torturous. 

Even so, he knows his best days are always spent with you. 

Most of your shared time is inevitably spent dissecting the neverending influx of cases received by the BAU. But every once in a while, there are times scattered between the chaos. Sometimes it’s the early mornings before anyone else has arrived, and the both of you drink your coffees together in comfortable silence. Sometimes it’s the late nights spent sitting at your desks across from each other with hot takeout and tired eyes. In these moments, both of you can talk about the books you’ve been reading recently, the best classical music composers, or your favorite episodes of Doctor Who, without any hesitation or uncertainty. Perhaps the delirium of sleep deprivation gives you courage, or maybe it’s just that both of you feel safer in the quiet, when the world feels a lot less overwhelming and all of your focus can be devoted to one another. Regardless, it’s what Spencer looks forward to the most, above all else. 

So, he tries. 

He clears his throat, “D-Did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose?” 

“Really? Huh… I wonder what the origin of the obsession was, y’know where it came from.”

And for just an instant, the anxiety has subsided, quickly replaced by a much stronger, fluttering from the depths of his stomach. 

“Not sure, but sources say that he frequently wrote about noses in his earlier stories, so whatever the cause was must’ve been prior to the 1880s, when Pinocchio was published.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “Have you heard about the Pinocchio Paradox before?”

“The one created by Peter Eldridge-Smith’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I think her name was Veronique. What do you think of the possible solutions?”

While he thinks of an answer to your question, he also thinks about how seamlessly you manage to fit into the fragments of his mind. He’s never felt more seen than when you glance over at him, when you think he can’t see you. You’re perfect in a way that feels whole and complete to him, as if there’s nothing else he could ever want or need. He thinks about all of this, and much, much more. 

~*~*~

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Spencer asks. He begins to rise from his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you though, I think I need a break anyway.” 

It’s late, everyone else has gone home. All of the fluorescent, overhead lights in the bullpen are off, both of you opting to turn on a few of the surrounding desk lamps instead. 

You don’t particularly like the dark, especially when it’s this late into the night. The walk to the kitchen feels a lot longer this way, your path being guided only by the residual light coming from the streetlights outside. 

There’s a sudden crash to your left, and you yelp, jumping towards Spencer. 

“Sorry! Sorry, that was me. I accidentally kicked a box of files I guess someone left on the floor, it knocked into one of the desks.” 

“No worries! It’s okay. I’m just,” you sigh, “I’m just a little bit afraid of the dark.” 

As your adrenaline levels steadily return to baseline, you’re suddenly hyper aware of how your entire body is quite literally pressed up against Spencer’s side, your hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. But just as you start to loosen your death grip, you feel Spencer’s fingers searching for you in the dim moonlight. 

Every thought you’ve ever had, every bit of information you’ve ever learned escapes you in a single breath as he intertwines your fingers with his. 

His voice is just barely above a whisper, “I’m a little bit afraid of the dark too.” 

Both of you walk the rest of the way to the kitchen in complete silence and at an incredibly slow pace, as if even the sound of your soles against the linoleum floors would ruin this moment. You almost want to keep the abrasive lights of the kitchen off as you finally walk through the doorway with Spencer in tow; you know that the very second you flip the switch, you’ll have to let go of his hand. It’s not realistic for him to keep holding your hand, you chastise yourself. How would he even make his coffee if you’re holding his hand hostage?

You turn the light on. The alternative would be standing in the dark and you couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for doing so quickly enough. 

A beat passes, your eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You look down, and to your surprise, Spencer’s still holding onto your hand. Worse, he’s rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. I will never recover from this, you think. 

“D-Do you still want coffee?” 

“No, not really,” you respond. With how your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, you really don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to consume any more caffeine. 

“Me neither,” he trails off. His eyes are glued to the floor as if he’s afraid to meet your gaze, as if it’ll make you realize with sudden clarity that it’s his hand you’re holding and you’ll pull away. 

“As you become drowsier, adenosine accumulates in the neuronal synapse and binds to the respective receptors located in the synapse of specific central nervous systems neurons causing further drowsiness,” you ramble. 

“And caffeine is an adenosine receptor antagonist.”

“Exactly, and knockout mice studies reveal that it’s specifically the adenosine A2A receptor which is a member of the G-protein coupled receptor family.”

“Interesting. Even though you only have one PhD, having it in biology seems to be proving pretty useful,” he smiles. 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s gotten me this far, wait what do you mean only one?”

“Dr. (Y/L/N), you realize I have three, right?” 

“Dr. Reid, please shut up.” 

You make him feel safe. 

“Okay, sorry,” he giggles, “Can you please tell me more about caffeine?” 

And because he asked so nicely, because he smiles at you the way he does, you tell him more. It’s nearly the middle of the night, but you’d still stay up and you would tell him everything you know, as long as he continued looking at you with his soft, brown eyes. 

You both talk about everything and anything either of you think of, all while holding each other in the palm of your hands. 

The next morning, he sits even closer to you. Luckily, it’s slowly getting easier to talk to him without losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, but it’s still hard sometimes. You still get nervous when he looks at you. You can still feel the butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, especially when he holds your hand underneath the desk. 

Both of you think you’re being subtle, but everyone notices. They pretend they don’t.

[mykoreanlove]

fitting room.

“Wait – you want to come inside with me?!”

Panic flooded your whole body as you realized that Felix was about to enter the fitting room with you. He smiled at you broadly: “Of course pumpkin! I want to see how you look in those clothes.”

Your boyfriend, whom you started dating a couple of weeks ago, took you out shopping on this warm summer night. You welcomed the idea as you loved spending time with him, but you dreaded the thought of him seeing you change.

“Wait… don’t you want me to come with you?”

His pained expression tore your heart apart. Of course, you wanted to be with him. If it was up to you, you would spend every minute of your day with him. This dark-haired personification of sunshine stole your heart the minute he smiled at you.

But you were hesitant at the idea of him coming with you into the monstrous invention that were fitting rooms. Those small spaces always made you feel insecure and ugly. The bright lightning highlighted all the parts of your body that you wanted to hide so badly. You had no intention of taking him with you in there.

Felix noticed the war you fought internally, so he grabbed your hands and squeezed them, hoping to distract your inner monologue. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

His eyes held so much compassion for you, he was dearly worried about your well-being. Realizing how much he cared for you made you beyond happy. You took a deep breath before confessing your insecurities to him. “I don’t want you to see me change…”, you mumbled silently.

Felix frowned as he did not understand your discomfort. “But why? It’s nothing I haven’t already seen, pumpkin.” He smiled again, hoping you would make it make sense to him.

You huffed out in despair: “Lix, those fitting rooms are every woman’s worst nightmare. They are super narrow so of course you naturally feel like a fat giant. And that hospital lightning – I mean you will see every lump, every dimple and all of my stretch marks. I don’t want you to see my flaws.”

Felix had wondered why you would always turn off the lights when you got intimate with him, but he never dared to ask. He fought his own self love battles a long time ago, but the memory of the shame that came with it was still fresh in his mind.

He never wanted to rush you, but he just did. Guilt was flooding his body as he saw what his careless remarks did to you.  Felix squeezed your delicate hands again and apologized.

“Pumpkin, I am sorry. I had no idea you felt that way about your body. Just so you know I don’t agree with you, but I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want. Go ahead and change, I’ll wait over there with the other boyfriends.”

He was about to turn around when you stopped him. “Lix, wait!” Felix turned around and looked at you guessingly. You had never been with someone like Felix before – someone that understood you and let you breathe. You were used to guys that criticized or ridiculed you for your body, so you never had the courage to open up to them.

But not with Felix – it was as if he grasped your every concern with his whole being. You felt safe with him, so you tried to show him more of your vulnerable side. You grabbed him by his hand and ushered him into the next dressing room.

It was just as you had dreaded – narrow, brightly lit and full of mirrors positioned on every side. You watched yourself mortified before your gaze landed on Felix.

Felix, who was looking at you as if you put the stars in the night sky. Felix, who hugged you from behind and whispered into your ear: “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, pumpkin. Because you’re marvelous.” He placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. His love gave you the courage to undress in front of him.

And now you were standing in this small space, exposed in nothing but your underwear, displaying all of your flaws to your godlike built boyfriend. Your bravery ended at stripping down though; you couldn’t face him right now. You felt Felix’ hands caressing your hips and crossing in front of your stomach as his soft lips found your ear. “Now tell me, baby, where exactly are all those flaws you mentioned?” You felt your cheeks fill with heat as you sensed his hot breath on you. “Well for starters, you’re holding one of my flaws right now.”

This was killing you. Your insecurities were eating you from the inside. You already started imagining the worst he could say. “You’re right, y/n. Your stomach is horrific. Why won’t you lose some weight? It’s not that hard.”, followed by him looking at you disgusted and leaving the fitting room.

Felix’ snort let you come back to reality.

“You think this”, he was applying pressure on your stomach as he was talking, “you think this is a flaw?” You nodded your head in agreement. “Oh pumpkin, you little fool.”

Felix turned you around and got down on his knees. Looking up at you he flashed you a warm smile before pampering your stomach with sweet kisses. His actions made you laugh, so you ushered him to stop. “Lix, what the hell, stop.”, you giggled in front of him. He had a devilish smirk on his lips as he looked up at you again.

“I love your stomach, y/n. I love how it holds all of your organs for you. I love how it lets you eat and digest and breathe in deeply. I love how it looks. I love your little navel. I love to kiss it. I love to lay my head on it. I love feeling it rise with every breath. I really, really love your stomach, pumpkin.”

Tears started to form in the brink of your eyes. No one had ever adored your stomach like that, not even yourself.

“What else?”, he whispered. You took a deep breath before pointing out the stretch marks on your hips. “I hate them.”

Felix’s hands landed on your hips again. He was tracing the outlines of your stretch marks, touching the skin cautiously. “Maybe I shouldn’t call you pumpkin anymore.”

Panic arose in your body once more. You knew it. You were disgusting. Of course, he wouldn’t want to be with someone like you. The tone of his voice getting more playful with every touch: “Maybe I should call you tiger instead. Look at the swings of those lines, they are impeccable!”

You felt like an idiot. Here you were being worshipped by your perfect boyfriend, yet you played out one worst case scenario after the other. You looked down at Felix as you grabbed his dark hair, pulling at it lightly. His eyes sparkled with desire for you, they always did. “Where else, baby?”

With a heavy heart you turned around. You grabbed your ass and squeezed it lightly for him to examine. “Do you see all this cellulite?” Due to the many mirrors in the stall, you were able to see Felix’ expression firsthand. His eyes wide from excitement, his tongue licking his lips and hands ready to grab your ass, as well.

“Babe, all I see is your fantastic bubble butt. Do you really think I care about cellulite?” He squeezed your butt eagerly which caught you by surprise. You squeaked and jumped up, only to land in his arms again. He joined in on your laughter and held you close.

“Y/N, I think you’re beautiful. Like all of you is beautiful. I understand that it’s hard to see your body go through changes as you get older but that’s not a bad thing. Baby, you get to get older, not everyone does.” You shared an intimate look with each other in the mirror in front of you.

„Why don’t you think of age as levels? With each passing year you get up one level in the game of life. And getting dimples or stretch marks means you get to wear a new armor. Isn’t that exciting?”

You loved the way he saw life. You knew that his mindset was built on many hours of struggle and hard work, which made you love him even more. You still looked at him in the mirror, but this time you smiled. A whole genuine smile, one that reached your eyes, as well. Felix smiled back at you before ushering you to move your head. “Gimme a kiss, pumpkin.”

You two kissed, tenderly and sweet, while being embraced in the small confines of the dressing room. “Now, will you put on the clothes we’ve picked out for you? I wanna get out of here and show you how much I adore your body in private.” He smirked one last time before kissing you again.

[fic-over-cannon]

A Soft Touch (pt. 1)

jason todd x f!reader (implied)

summary: when the pit brought jason back, it heightened all of his senses. he learns to live with that.

tags: mild body horror, sensory overload, mentions of offscreen violence, implied future relationship

rated teen | wc: 1.9k

a/n: dedicated to @jasonsmirrorball my beloved, who was just as excited about this version of jason as i was. part one is mostly a retrospective about how super senses would have impacted jason. the romance part of this story (and nsfw) will be in part 2 coming soon!

link to part 2, ao3 link

The Red Hood’s helmet isn’t just a precaution against an exposed secret identity or another piece of armour. It’s a necessity. It filters out sound, keeps out pungent smells and the associated tastes, controls light, and can restrict range of vision. For a regular person the helmet would be sensory deprivation of the worst kind. For Jason, it is the lifeline that keeps him alive to fight another day.

If anyone had asked Jason’s opinion before throwing him into the Lazarus Pit (not that he was in a fit state to respond, mind you) he would have told them that trusting a puddle of primordial green goo to know the limitations of the human body was incredibly stupid. Having come out of the experience irrevocably altered, he would point to his own body as an example of how much the pit didn’t know about humanity. Every scar he received before death had been removed (notably, the scars from after death were left untouched). He was over six feet tall when childhood malnutrition should have left him a good five inches shorter. His strength, rather than the result of packed on muscle and a good diet was definitely being supplemented by something unnatural. For a body built like a fridge, he was ridiculously light on his feet and agile. The physics of him just don’t make sense. Yet despite all of these changes, undoubtedly the worst was how all five of his senses had been heightened.

The Lazarus Pit burned through Jason Todd and woke him up screaming. It was the feel of it that was the worst sensation, the one that brought him up to consciousness first. The rough weave of his training pants grating against his skin like wire, clinging to his raw flesh with the dampness of the pit. Green water, oddly viscous and acrid, drenching his skin and burning like a grease fire. It drips down his nose and throat, the taste of tar and blood seared into his tongue, the scent of burnt hair and flesh imprinted into his nose. It drips into his eyes and brands them. The dark cave only lit by the green glow of the pool now so bright like it holds the light of one hundred stars. Burning and drowning and being flayed alive, Jason has no care for noise save that it deafens him. For those first few moments of awakening, Jason may as well have been truly deaf for the thunderous roar of nothingness in his ears. A rubber band snaps and at once his hearing is another ice pick to the brain. Voices that should have been a whisper ring through his skull and reverberate. The footsteps of shadows several floors away staccato through him. It is a living hell made worse by a screaming that won’t shut up. It is only when a slap cracks across his face (it feels like all the skin on his cheek has sloughed off) and the scream trails off to pitiful whines does Jason dimly recognize that the screaming was him. Two pairs of hands under his arms haul him to standing and it hurts oh it hurts. Iron meat hooks digging and clawing their way into him until he is too pinned to slip away. That is the start to the illustrious second life of Jason Todd, newly gifted.

As much training is dedicated to making Jason a better warrior, twice that is given over to training him to survive his own senses. It is rough, brutal work, dictated by trainers that have never felt the pit’s bite. It destroys whatever sanity he might have had left after his rebirth and he is grateful. He is remade with control, no longer a pitiful broken mind tied to a falling star, bracing to burn up on impact. He no longer aches at the feel of fabric on his skin, can smile and hold a conversation without wanting to claw the other person’s heart out for beating too loudly, can drink wine and not taste every molecule. He is so very grateful. But it is not enough. Talia warns him, in what might be her first true act of uncomplicated kindness to him, that those who have survived the pit don’t do well in places where life is concentrated.

Returning to Gotham is not the triumph he pictured. Within minutes of touching down he is on a safe house floor convulsing from sensory overload. The city, with its people and the machinery that houses them, is too much of everything. There are so many voices overlaid with construction and traffic, the chemical rot of the harbour suffocating him, sewage and putrid fish thick on his tongue, fluorescent lights tearing through the soft space of his eyelids. Gunshots and sirens and the tang of old blood. It takes every one of his years of training to stop seizing. It takes iron will like he hadn’t known since the early days to come back to himself. It takes days before he can control himself enough to come face to face with the shadows Talia sent with him. His first order: to bring him a motorcycle helmet. The helmet is black and stinks of cigarette smoke, visor slightly scratched. It is the most powerful relief Jason has ever known. His plans are delayed by months as he figures out the specifications for the Red Hood’s helmet. Design after design prototyped and discarded. The helmet helps, but Jason refuses to let it become his crutch. He practices, minutes at first and then hours, retraining himself to be able to exist outside the confines of the helmet.

He fails in his revenge against Batman and the Replacement, the insidious demands of his heightened senses unraveling all his patience and planning. Sends him into a murderous frenzy that nearly ends in another dead Robin. Ribs broken and face beaten in by his own father, all Jason can concentrate on is the sensation of drying blood flaking on his skin. Delirious, he thinks, so this is what they meant about the killing rage the pit hands out. It is only by the thinnest of chances that nobody dies at all and that his senses remain a secret.

Reconciliation is hard earned. He never quite gets around to telling anyone about his new ‘gifts’. Let’s them think him much more observant and tactically sound then he really is. Learns to identify the joyful thwip of Dick’s grappling gun, the steady drumming of Tim’s fingers on a keyboard. Jason memorizes the smell of Alfred’s hugs, a mixture of silver polish and baked goods. Starts to categorize all the different ways Bruce’s eyes on him feel physically.

Life doesn’t stop when his revenge does either. Jason rents an apartment as his semi-permanent safe house. Consciously decides to make it a home and learns the art of the DIY renovation. Blackout curtains go up first, followed by a soft blue on the walls (Jason may be sensitive to light now but he still can’t stand total darkness). Sound proofing comes next. He’s had a few close calls when the upstairs neighbour blasted music a little too loud and had had to restrain himself from killing them. The lumpy mattress gets replaced with memory foam and new sheets at a ridiculously high silk thread count he can’t quite believe he shelled out for. Through trial and error he finds a laundry detergent that doesn’t make him nauseous and celebrates with all the loads he’d put off. He finds joy in cooking again, running through all the recipes Alfred had taught him and appreciating them more for the new way the flavours tasted on his tongue. To his chagrin, he also discovers he hates the lingering smell of cooked food in his apartment after he’s done eating. A range hood fixes that problem but causes a new one with the rattle of the fan. Sound cancelling headphones quickly become his new best friend. Piece by piece his little oasis comes together.

Eventually Jason learns to share his little home. Stilted conversations in door frames turn into invitations for a drink turn into semi-regular dinners. Family movie nights start happening before Jason realizes it, all of the Robins, former and current, curled up in his living room. In the top kitchen cupboard on the left, a shelf gets dedicated to popcorn seasonings. Extra throw blankets get added to the sofa after Tim makes a remark about never making it through a movie night because the blankets are too comfy. Dick will show up cheerfully demanding a brotherly talk but Jason has realized that with the strategic application of cereal he can avoid talking about his own emotions. Alfred visits regularly, brings his own tea and a new recipe for the two of them to try together. Alfred never leaves without remarking on how well Jason keeps his home (and Jason never fails to flush at the compliment). Strangely enough it is when Bruce comes knocking that Jason feels the most sure footed in his apartment. Invites Bruce in politely and goes through the motions of hosting. It baffles Bruce a little, to see the Red Hood so domestic but it soothes the part of him that sat up all night with Jaylad when he was sickly. Bruce, in his own way, makes it clear that Jason will always be part of the family no matter where he chooses to live.

This latest point of reconciliation couldn’t have been timed any better. Only a few days later Damian turns up on the doorstep of the Wayne Manor. Bruce brings him by the apartment to introduce Damian to Jason, hoping that the two most recent additions will at least get along better than Damian and Tim’s first shaky interaction. It goes a little too well. Damian, unused to the sensory nightmare that is Gotham, takes two steps into Jason’s apartment and demands to stay with his big brother. Jason, intimately aware of how uncomfortable the transition from the orderly League compound to Gotham was, is only too happy to see Damian too. It takes a whispered fight of yes, I knew him, and no, I didn’t know who his father was before Bruce eventually has to concede that Damian will at least be spending some time in Jason’s home. The split transition makes establishing a life in Gotham much easier for Damian than it was for Jason. Jason can at least recognizes the signs of sensory overload, can guide Damian through it without the cruel methods of his former instructors. In caring for Damian, Jason comes to realize that he deserved worlds better than the torture disguised as teaching that he received. In preparing Damian to be a part of society, he realizes that he wants more out of life than being a controlled weapon too.

Jason waits, and he plans. After all, if he could design and execute a months’ long campaign to take over the Gotham underworld, surely he’s capable of getting a social life. He picks his first target with care, intending only to get used to being around people outside of scripted settings and his helmet. He chooses a small library two blocks from the apartment with an attached coffee shop, sets himself little goals for each day with the option to bail as soon as it becomes too much. In the span of two weeks he’s ready to move from using the library to sitting in the coffee shop. It’s a daunting task. The smell of the coffee beans, the hiss of the milk frother, and the quiet rumble of conversation prove to be too much for him on his first attempt. It’s as he’s leaving that a bright laugh floats above the din and stirs his curiosity. The next day has him right back at the coffee shop staring up at the chalk board menu. Sweat is starting to bead on his forehead and he could swear he can feel the vibrations of the coffee grinder on his skin. He is just about getting ready to leave when he hears the laugh again. Turns around and the owner of it is standing right behind him (how did she get so close without him noticing?!) beaming up at him.

And oh.

[kurogxrix]

omg stark!reader n Peter in stark tower flirting and tony teases them (hopefully mutual pining and like they haven’t confessed to each other yet)

Dedicate Your Heart

Peter Parker x Stark!reader

A/N: reader can be seen as Tony’s biological or adopted daughter :)

“To your left Spider-Man!” had been the last thing that Peter had heard before getting shoved to the side, quite painfully so be the stack of boxes that you had been carrying. The tower of cardboard threatened you with a stagger as you bumped into Peter, before peacefully settling back in place. 

Despite it being a mid saturday morning, you found yourself in your father’s lab instead of in the comfort of your dear room. Though you’d already agreed to help him, so there was no way you could turn back on him now. Admitively you weren’t here totally by your own will, you’d solely done it because Tony had teased you about being some edgy teenager that sticks in her room all day. And while you were, admitting with no shame that staying slumped on your bed while blasting some old school rock through your headphones was definitely a vibe, you decided to prove to your dad that there were many other things that you could do to render that brain of yours utile.

It wasn’t like your father was a stranger to your accomplishments, far from that. 

Setting the boxes down on the countertop, you couldn’t help the heavy groan that escaped your mouth. You didn’t have super strength like most of the other people living in the tower, and damn could a few boxes make your backache go crazy. Nevertheless, throughout your struggle, you failed to notice the way that a certain curly haired brunette had his eyes stuck on you for the duration of your time here. 

Peter had not even said anything after you had brutally (in his dictionary. You’d argue and say that it was playfully) shoved him away with your boxes. Instead, his eyes lingered on your form. He nearly had to slap himself after his iris laid on your torso for a little too long, but could you blame him? 

The skin-tight black tank top that you often wore while working in the lab was just so attractive to Peter. 

He watched as the shirt slid up a couple of inches as you stretched, exposing a sliver of your stomach and rippling the muscles in your arms. Sure you weren’t as bulky as Thor yet alone Hulk, but fighting crime alongside the avengers and training with them did flatter your physique. God, Peter was sure that he must’ve been drooling by now. What a fool. 

“You want a picture too or are you too busy engraving the sight in your mind?” your voice shook Peter out of his stance, a bright red colour raising upon the back of his neck as you caught him checking you out red handed. The sole sound of your assertive tone had him doubling over, at least in his head, because he could avoid being humiliated furthermore. 

“Hey, wasn’t it you that chose my outfit for our last gala? Heard from a little birdie that it was because you thought i’d look handsome in it?” Peter retaliated, though his voice held more diffidence than yours did. You froze upon his admission, the metallic parts of the gadget that you were working on released a loud ‘thud’ as it came down to hit against the countertop. You winced at the sound, internally cursing your mother figure, Pepper, for exposing your secret. 

It was true though, and there was no point in denying it now that it was out in the open. You could still remember the exact moment that Tony had informed you all about some gala that you had to attend alongside him, some rich guy thing. Although you protested, he insisted. So that’s how you’d ended up in this position, having to choose a partner that was actually your age to accompany you there. It wasn’t that you necessarily needed one so badly, but every other avenger already had someone to accompany them, but the age gap between yourself and the rest of your team already made you feel sort of excluded in most things, so bringing a date it was. 

Beyond everyone else, your first thought was to ring Peter up and ask him about it. After all, he was perfect for the job. He already knew your father and he was always so enthusiastic for whatever journey you’d reserve for him. Only problem was, well…Peter was broke. So given that you were the daughter of a billionaire, you might’ve as well dressed him up. Though as soon as you thought about Peter in a specific suit, you felt your brain short circuiting in awe. 

It took you a moment to recover from your lone embarrassment. How could the mere thought of a man get you so riled up? It was those kinds of questions that you’d always bring up to yourself when it came to Peter, and on that night, you came to the fact that you might’ve had feelings for the boy. Naturally, as a teenage girl, you would’ve firstly ran to your phone to text your friends about it. Though you ran short on these, being a Stark, you knew how people could get once they indulged in another’s’ money and clout. The ideas of having friends apart from the avengers had completely been wiped clean out of your mind after a few failed attempts.  

You thought about telling Natasha, and as much as you loved the older woman, you dreaded the way  she’d tease you if you ever opened up about your feelings for a certain Spider-man. So, telling your mother it was. 

“My mom is such a snitch.” you mumbled under your breath, supposedly to yourself but the chuckle that escaped Peter told you that it came out a little  

louder than expected. The lab was relatively quiet after that, other than the sounds of you piecing things together and Peter’s loud thinking as he made a virtual maquette of what he was planning. To the both of you, the secret glances that you were exchanging might’ve gone over your heads, but not to a certain billionaire playboy that stood by the elevator door. Well scratch that, ex-playboy. 

Once again, the lab was quiet. Almost too quiet for it to be containing the both of you teens in there, Tony thought to himself. He was no stranger to Peter’s feelings towards you, neither were the other avengers, nor yourselves at that. The flirting was nothing new to the obscene things that the poor heros were bound to see, and it was almost too much for them to handle. It was like a constant war between teammates that was happening in the tower. One side would agree with the fact that you were both oblivious to each other’s feelings, while the other half believed that you were both very aware, but undeniable cowards when it came to outwardly confessing. 

Your dad fell in the team of people who believed that you both knew you liked each other. How could he not? He had to suffer through your endless flirting and playful banners everyday. Plus, he knew admiration when he saw it. He is Tony Stark after all, he’d received many lovestruck looks in his youth, and they’d only multiplied as he aged.

Amidst his work, Peter couldn’t concentrate for any longer with the amount of noise that you were causing. Your patience ran short as you tried to forcefully shove a metal piece against another, not understanding why it wasn’t fitting together. One look at you and he could tell that you were frustrated. Your creased eyebrows, that slightly disgusted look that you wore on your face, it all told the same exact story. Narrated through your eyes that were piercing daggers at the poor gadget before you, Peter knew better than to just leave you alone. Mainly because he feared for the poor object, a woman’s wrath is not to be played with. 

“I mean, kiss me if i’m right but, this piece most definitely goes here.” Peter took the piece from your hand, startling you slightly as he appeared out of thin air. His words rang inside your head for a second, the thoughts of kissing Peter making you feel dizzy after so long of chasing one another. The endless nights spent awake just to text Peter and the amount of time that you’d sneak out just to meet up with the curly haired boy. It all meant more than it would let off, and that was much considering nearly everyone thought you two were already dating. 

You allowed Peter to take the segment of your father’s work from your hands, placing it in a slot that was laid idiotically close to the one that you were trying to force it in. Without hesitation, you hurriedly plugged in the machine, and with enthusiasm, you watched as your father’s project lit up successfully. 

In the midst of everything, Peter could barely makeout that time that it had taken you to turn around and engulf him in your embrace. Warm and familiar arms welcoming him as they latched behind his neck, he nearly doubled back at your force. 

“I’d kiss you but that’d just destroy everything that we’ve built throughout these years now, wouldn’t it?” you bat your eyelashes up at him, the side of your face flushed against his chest as Peter looked down at you with those doe eyes of his. You could’ve sworn that it wasn’t you that was trying to soften him with that sweet look, but quite the inverse. 

You both indulged in the moment, guilty of relishing the other with nothing else but your eyes. Though what lied in your iris told another story than one that’s platonic, your mouths just couldn’t allow yourselves to confess. It wasn’t that you both were oblivious to the other’s feelings, you both just feared the change of dynamic that’d come with altering this relationship into a romantic one. 

You feared that your teasing texts would turn into unceasingly mushy ones. And Peter feared that if anything bad was to happen between you two, he’d lose you forever, even as a friend. Though you both were young and understanding, you set asid the thought of making anything official for now. 

As you continued to stare into Peter’s eyes, you couldn’t help but lean further into him, closer up. He reciprocated your motion, pupils never straying away from your own as his breath hitched under the circumstances. Sure you weren’t ready for a relationship with Peter now, but what harm was there with a little kiss? You could always be all up in eachothers faces one day and fist-bump like highschool best-friends on the other. 

“Oh and cut it to the wedding scene already, we’ve been through too much foreplay!” there came the clap of his hands before his words, and soon was your father’s cover blown. You both froze at the teasing tone of his voice, familiar so, it was impossible to escape the Stark banter. You almost scoffed audibly before remembering the position that you were currently in. Peter felt his heartstrings being tugged at once he felt you parting away from him, but yet again, you guys were nothing more than just friends. 

The rise of crimson colour upon Peter’s cheeks was a cute sight to see, and admitively you’d spend more time admiring him in his flustered state, but for now, you had an irritated attitude to put on for your father. 

“For how long have you been stalking us, old man?” you rolled your eyes at your father, crossing your arms above your torso as you stared him down. The smirk that played on Tony’s face irked you, and you wanted nothing more than Pepper walking in and telling him off. God only knows how much a husband fears his wife, and Tony more than feared his own. He laughed shortly, throwing his head back as though you had said the funniest thing ever heard by men. Peter just stood there in all of his awkwardness, moving his head to gaze at your father and you relentlessly like some cartoon character. 

“Long enough to know that your little flirting in my  lab is disgusting, get your own to do that crap over there.” he responded sarcastically, a Tony Stark trait. 

“I was not flirting with your daughter, Mr Stark!” Peter retaliated nervously, his words coming out faster than his mind could comprehend. He felt even more stressed as he watched his superior stare him down with an amused expression on, feigning comprehension before opening that mouth of his once more. 

“Right and that explains why you were just about to kiss her? Cmon kids, I was anything but born yesterday.” Tony laughed at you both once more, and clearly, he was enjoying this way more than the two of you. 

Before any of you have the time to respond, your father was already on his way out. With his back facing towards you, he plucked his iconic sunglasses from the pocket of pants, the arc reactor peeking through the fabric of his thin summer shirt. 

“Be sure to be safe, your kids could end up just like my lovely daughter, and I'm sure none of you guys are ready for this!” your father turned around swiftly  to wink playfully at you, sending the pair of you finger guns as he walked backwards towards the elevator. Lord, how much did you wish for him to slip and break his saunter, but a man such as Tony was too smooth in his ways. With the humiliation of his words running thick through your veins, and your head in your hands in shame, you’d promised yourself that you’d get your revenge on your dear father. Somewhat, someday.

The sound of the elevator’s ‘ting’ sent relief coursing throughout Peter and you, now that your father is gone, you’d have to deal with the other situation at hand. 

“We weren’t flirting right? Just talking as friends?” Peter nervously rambled as soon as you turned back around to face him. His words were the opposite of what he wanted, of course he wanted you both to flirt as more than friends, but he didn’t want to scare you if anything. His hand was itching a spot behind his neck, where nothing irritated him, it was just an anxious habit that he had. Trying to surpass a chuckle, you sauntered your way towards the brunette. 

Peter’s eyes widened comically as you raised a hand towards him, and his thoughts ran wild with anticipation. Was this it? Were you finally going to surpass this fear of commitment and just kiss him? His shoulders dropped visibly when your hand came to remove his own from his neck, saving him from the rash that he was bound to develop after itching the same spot repetitively like he always did. 

Peter’s heart did an nearly audible ‘oh’ in disappointment. Though on the outside, he was all shiny smiles and full set of teeth on display. He was ready to move past what you had, but if you couldn’t meet him halfway, how could he act on it? 

Peter observed with keen eyes as you walked back to your spot, sending a curt notice to F.R.I.D.A.Y, asking to press play on your playlist. 

Suddenly, Peter’s disappointment was replaced with something else. With dedication, perhaps. He vowed to make a change in what you had by the end of this year, promising himself to prove to you that maybe a relationship with him wasn’t so bad. That you could work things out like two responsible people if anything were to happen. He just urged to get a taste of you, of what it was like to wake up and be more than just your best bud. 

-

i wrote this with a swollen thumb and i half-asleep mind so please don’t judge😭

[whoahoney]

Eddie from Chili’s

Waiter!Eddie x Shy!reader

A/N: based off my experience with a super cute waiter I wrote about here. 😭 and no I haven’t been back yet! I still might, idk. But here’s this!!

Rip me + cole 4ever

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, shy!reader, fem!reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stood in front of the restaurant, smoothing down the front of your open corduroy shirt, questioning the little black strappy top you wore underneath.

It had been a month since you’d been here last and you’d hoped to God he’d recognize you now that you were alone and looked nicer.

During your previous visit to the bar and grill, you had the pleasure of having the hottest guy seat you—and your mother— and you hoped he wouldn’t be your server due to the fact you wore your dingiest shoes and a mustard plaid flannel with a gray Nirvana shirt. Not to mention your hair had passed its expiration date by three days.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” He’d said after taking your order.

He towered over you, his black shirt fitting him in all the right places while exposing his heavily inked arms— skulls and mythical creatures flowed up and down his arms as if shrouded in smoke. You wondered how long it took and how badly it hurt as you dropped your bag in the space next to you and slid into the booth.

His eyes were deep golden brown and had thick lashes to frame them, and they were set on you after flickering over your being and saying, “—and in case you need anything, don’t be afraid to grab me, my name's Eddie.” He lingered for a moment longer before turning his shoulders towards the kitchen across the bar and you could’ve swore he winked on his way past, successfully stunning you to your core.

He returned with drinks after giving you ample time to look over the menu, spending his free time leaning over the counter to talk to the bartender who appeared to be his buddy, chuckling and exchanging slightly degrading comments as the older women in the booth behind you exchanged risqué quips about the two of them.

He’d placed the drinks on the coasters carefully before bringing his hands together in front of him, shifting his weight slightly, “Would you like to order an appetizer? Or do you need more time?” He looked at you and you looked at your mom like a helpless thirteen year old. She nodded at you to speak with a pleasant smile on her face.

You swallowed at your dry throat, “We need another minute, please.” You fought to keep your eyes on his as you spoke but they kept falling down the table or away from his face. He had to have known the effect he had on you.

“No worries!” He said brightly and drummed his hands on the table before going back into the kitchen.

You groaned to yourself and try to focus on the menu, the words suddenly too overwhelming to comprehend. There were so many. And all so close together!

“What are you getting, dear?” Your mother asked, “I’m getting chips and salsa, and the sirloin!” She beamed looking down at the menu.

“Uh. The, uh.” You shake your head, “I dunno.”

“Do you need me to order for you?” She asks, concerned, noticing your state.

“—No.” you answered firmly. “I just can’t figure out what I want, I’m just not hungry right now.”

“Get the chicken pasta, you like that!” She assured before nodding as the cute waiter approached again.

“Are we ready?” He asked with a smile, looking between the two of you before resting his warm brown eyes on yours. You were seated by the window on a bright overcast day, the warm light of the lamp hanging over your table cast him in a golden glow and you couldn’t help but nod and forget every word you’ve ever known in the English language.

You turn and look at your mom for help and nod at her, “You go.”

“We’ll take the chips and salsa, with queso too, and I’ll have the sirloin, medium rare, with the broccoli and potatoes.” She said, giving him enough time to write between each item, like everyone should. She handed him the menu and looked at you as he did.

Suddenly the light was blinding and you looked down to the menu to discover you still couldn’t read the fucking words on the folder before you. “I’ll have the chicken fingers. Four of them.” You cringe.

“… four orders? Like.. 16?” He schools his face as your face drains of any color and then fills back up with magenta, probably.

“Just the four, please.” You recover.

“And do you want fries with that?” He smiled with a teasing lilt to his voice, your lips twitch up at the corners much to your dismay.

“Yes, please.” You nearly grit out of your clenched jaw.

He barely glanced down at his pad as the pen scratched across it. “Alright. I’ll get that in for ya!” And he disappeared again.

“I think I know what’s going on.” Your mother mused as she gazed at the dessert menu.

You blanch and swallow again, “No, mom.”

“Oh, now I know I’m right.”

“No, you’re not.” You insisted.

“Do I need to ask him if he’s single?”

“Please no.”

“Well you oughta know that boy has been making eyes at you this whole time.” Your mother leaned forward to utter between you.

You sharply inhale at the thought of him looking at you the way he did. “I can’t think thoughts when I look at him, mom.” You whine as you sink into your seat. “It doesn’t help I look like a twelve year old today.” You ran your hands down your makeupless face.

“Well when you sit like that you look about 4, and he’s headed this way so you better get up.” She warned.

You shoot up in your seat and clear your throat, preparing to say thank you.

Eddie appeared with the basket of chips and cups of dip, lingering again as your mom plucked up a chip and scooped up some queso, “Is there anything else I can get for you?” He said only to you.

You wait for your mom to answer, but her mouth is full so you shake your head no, “No, thank you.” You say, sharper than you meant to. Eddie nods and gives a tight smile before walking back to the kitchen.

Between the time it had taken Eddie to get the order in and the chef to cook it to perfection and send it back your way, the women behind you began ordering more and more drinks, getting louder with their advances when the bartender helped Eddie deliver food to his tables.

“Aww, what a good friend!” One drawled as she accepted her plate.

“We’re actually brothers.” The bartender affirmed, his hair shaved short as opposed to Eddie’s long dark curls.

The women gasped and you turned your head to the side, noticing Eddie shyly putting his hands in his pockets as his brother clapped him on the shoulder once the food was served.

“So how are y’all related?” Another asked.

Eddie gave his brother the side eye, “… our mom and dad?”

The women cackled at themselves, crooning about how they should’ve known they were brothers by their good looks and sweet dimples. You nibbled on a chip as the brothers proved their parentage by pulling out their licenses when one of them claimed disbelief.

“Well you’re a good brother!” One of the women gushed to the bartender as Eddie made long steps to the kitchen, his brother lingering at the table and soaking up the attention as he picked up their empty glasses, “Oh, I’m just helping him out cause he’s working til midnight tonight.”

Suddenly he was back, a blur of black and white as he approached the table with the platter of your food. He handed your mothers to her and set your basket on the table in front of you before you had the chance to reach out, giving you a quiet warning about the plate being hot.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” He asked you, again. This time your mom didn’t have food in her mouth as he waited for your answer, “Could I get some ketchup?” You suddenly ask.

Eddie’s ears perked and he reached across the table to grab the red bottle by the window, opening the top and squirting a generous helping on the side of your plate. You look up at him dumbfounded and embarrassed, swallowing before uttering, “I'm sorry, thank you.” You burned in the cheeks again.

He smiled smugly before setting the bottle down, “No worries. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.” He said before walking back into the kitchen again.

You exhale deeply and rest your hand on your forehead, “Oh my god.”

Your mother cuts her steak and takes a bite, “He’s good at his job.” She shrugged.

“I freaking know.” You whined again. “I can’t even eat.”

“Don’t worry about it, just get a box later.”

You picked at your food until Eddie stopped back by when your mothers plate was empty. He took her plate and asked, “Are you feeling dessert? Lava cake?” He asked between you both as your mother gazed at the dessert menu yet again.

“Mmm… Yes! Let’s have a lava cake!” She nodded. “Can we get two spoons?”

“—oh, I don’t want any, mom.” You shook your head.

“You sure?” She asked, Eddie looked at you as if to ask the same thing.

You look at both of them and nod, “Yeah—yeah, I’m sure.”

Eddie nodded at you with soft eyes, “Alright, well, is there anything else I can get for you?” He asked you, a lilt to his voice.

“A to-go box, please.” You muster, keeping your gaze focused this time on one of his beautiful eyes. He smiles and nods, checking on his other tables on his way to the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but notice his time was shorter at other tables. He was prompt, kind, cool and collected. He had a way with people that put them at ease— except you.

He returned to the table with your empty box, the dessert, and a leather bound check— handing both to you.

He handed your mother the plate with two spoons, despite your request, then tapped a ringed finger on the surface next to you.

His body was angled towards yours, as if to show you he was asking you, and you only, “Is there anything else I can get for you before I go out on my break?” He leaned on his hand, his head dipping towards his shoulder as he clicked the pen in his free hand.

You swallowed again and took a quivering breath as your gaze raked down his frame one last time and you shook your head, “No, thank you.”

“A-Are you sure?” He pressed, clicking his pen almost nervously as he waited for your response.

“Mhm!” You said with a closed mouth smile as you dumped your chicken fingers into the box.

He smiled tensely before he nodded and walked away, less hustle in his step as he dug in his back pocket for his cigarettes and disappeared through the kitchen doors for the final time.

The interaction has haunted you since.

You were a grown woman! How dare he take up this sort of residency in your mind—over something as stupid as a one time interaction.

Eddie the waiter with his big stupid brown eyes and his easy going facade. You bet it’s all fake anyway, there was no way anyone was that charming without any effort!

He’s in service, it’s his job to be nice and appealing! Who’s to say he wasn’t just smooth and doing it for kicks and tips!

But you did notice the way his brother tended to the rest of his tables in his absence, as if he’d waited for only you to finish before going on his break.

You replayed the moment he may or may not have winked at you in your mind a thousand times, feeling so pathetic as you wished for him to do it again.

After much convincing from your friends— and mother— you decided you’d come back, alone.

And this time you’d put more effort into your appearance, your makeup flawlessly done and deciding to wear your favorite outfit, complete with your best ass hugging jeans. Your hair was washed and styled, loose curls framed your face and your perfume was your best; not too strong, and fresh yet warm.

It is 1pm on a Friday afternoon, the same time and day you’d come last time, hoping he’d be scheduled to work today.

And with a deep breath in, you yank open the door and walk inside.

Part 2

[niphredil-14]

hey so the rottmnt boys tend to think their appearance would be an issue in attracting someone to them. So how do you think they would deal with a s/o who one day unprompted, the boys are just doing normal things, is like “It’s frustrating how everything you do is so attractive to me” and s/o hides face in pillow and makes a groaning noise, like they can’t contain themselves, but are trying too. S/o ends up giving their boys a massive smooch once they get themselves out of their pillow confinement?

thanks so much for sending this in! I've been dying to get some more tmnt requests! I don't write for Mikey unless I'm feeling super inspired specifically for him, so sorry about that. Hope you enjoy!

Leonardo: He may be the self proclaimed "face-man," but we all know that he deals with quite a bit of insecurity. Growing up watching movies with attractive people who look nothing like you can be discouraging, as can having to live in the sewers your whole life because the humans in the above-ground-world would see you as a hideous monster. While dating you, he never once took you for granted, because he knew how fortunate he was to have you. I don't think he would ever intentionally tell you about his insecurities, but it wouldn't be hard to figure out. So when you tell him that, and get so frustrated at your own lack of control over yourself and your emotions, it flusters him. He'd be so grateful that you shoved your face into the pillow because that meant that you wouldn't be able to tell just how flustered he was. He would try to cooly play it off as if it meant nothing to him, but the breathy tone to his voice, and the slight shake of it as he spoke gave it away.

"Well what did you expect? You didn't seriously think that you could be immune to my charm, did you?"

Raphael: I think that Raphael would be a bit more open about his emotions and insecurities with you, not completely, or all the time, but he would most certainly be better at communicating with you when he struggles than Leo would. He most likely told you when the two of you began dating that he was surprised that someone as attractive as you would ever want to go out with a big, scary mutant like him. It would probably take quite some time for your affirmations to sink in and become believable for him, he would appreciate your compliments, but it wouldn't be until much later in the relationship that he would be able to genuinely believe that you thought he was handsome. He might become more accustomed to your compliments, and I doubt that he would ever outright deny them, but I think it would be a while for him to stop doubting, if ever. But whenever you complimented him, especially out of the blue or unprompted, he would become so, so, so soft. His eyes would get all big, a smile as bright as the sun would be exposed by his lips stretching back against his beak, and a slow, steady thump, thump, thump would be heard from his heavy tail banging against the nearest surface.

"You're just too sweet, Doll."

Donatello:

Probably the most insecure out of all the brothers. Though it was all out of love, his brothers (especially Leo) teased him a lot growing up, and he had spent a good amount of time feeling inferior to theme in any way that didn't involve brains. He had been keenly aware of the fact that they would most likely all never find love, but he had convinced himself that even if by some miracle his brothers were able to, that he would never have the privilege. He wasn't big and strong like Raph, or confident and outgoing like Leo, or as friendly and cute as Mikey. He was a cold, introverted man who only knew how to navigate his tech. So when he got into a relationship, as happy as he was, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was convinced that it was all just a moment's lapse of judgement on their part, and that soon they would realize their mistake, and leave him behind. Because of that mindset, he had endeavored to savor every single moment he spent with his partner, he lavished them with every gift he could think of, and made sure that, even though he wasn't overly affectionate by nature, that they never forgot, even for a second, how much they meant to him, even if he was convinced that he cared for them much more than they could ever care for a monster such as himself. He would never admit these insecurities to them, he did not want them to feel obligated to reassure him, he didn't want to bring them down, but it was clear to them with the look of pure shock and disbelief that he let slip whenever they complimented him, and so they continued to, in hopes that they could crack through his walls, and convince him that they loved him just as much as he loved them. And every time they looked his way, no matter how long they were together, or would be together, it would feel like a gift from the highest of deities, a blessing for their most loving devotee. He may never fully stop viewing himself as a "monster," but it was okay, so long as he was theirs.

"If Ceres was graced with the gift of the Sun's praise, my dear, it would not feel a googolth of what I do when you so much as gaze in my direction."

(can you tell who's my favorite lol) REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[katyawriteswhump]

Livin’ the dream (steddielovemonth day 3)

After High School, Eddie and Steve’s lives don’t exactly go as planned… For @steddielovemonth day 3 prompt: Love is being terrified but not letting that stop you from taking a leap (@unclewaynemunson) Thank you <3

Rating: M. CW: Unhealthy/abusive relationship (NOT steddie!) Tags: No Upside Down AU, angst. WC: 2,225

…

“I’d never have dreamed,” said Eddie one morning, during his daily stop at Dave’s Diner, “that Steve Harrington pouring my coffee would become the highlight of my day.”

Steve smirked. “Wasn’t exactly how I saw my future either, Munson.”

While Steve poured, Eddie left his hand on his coffee cup. He always did—even if the cup got too hot. Even if it scalded him. He’d not miss a chance to have Steve that close. Nor to enjoy staring at those lickable arms, today exposed to the shoulders by a snug-fitting vest top.

“I guess you really dig lousy weak coffee, man,” said Steve.

“Sets me up for a busy day fulfilling my childhood ambition of hauling bricks, darlin’.” He’d gotten away with ‘darlin’’ last week. Steve didn’t chew his head off today, either, so… “Living the dream, huh?”

Steve sighed hard, started wiping the counter near Eddie, over and over, as he always did. “How’s your pay?” asked Steve quietly.

“It’s a day rate. Not stellar, not the pits. Why? You looking for other work?” Panic rocked through Eddie. “You’re not leaving this place?” Though it would be awesome if we worked together. Eddie was already fantasising about those hot summer days on the construction site, when Steve might strip his shirt off.

“Nah, not really,” said Steve, “I’m kinda tied to this job.” He ran his free hand distractedly across his eyes. Tied to this job—what the heck did that mean? Steve often seemed world-weary and withdrawn. Incongruously so, given the confident guy he used to be. But that was adult life, so it seemed. It sucked.

All the same, Eddie experienced an uneasy urge to probe deeper. Steve got in first: “Hey, how’s the band?”

Eddie beamed. Yeah, there was one other thing, other than coffee with Steve, that he lived for: “We got a gig Saturday night.”

“Let me guess—the super bowl came begging?”

“Haha, just you wait, big guy. It’s at that new bar in town. You wanna come?”

Steve paused his scrubbing. Something sparked in the depths of those big, beguiling eyes that made Eddie’s throat tighten, and his pulse beat faster. “I’m working,” said Steve. I’ll try and get away aft—”

“Hey, kid! You gone blind or you really this lazy?” That was Steve’s boss, Dave, who’d gotten the biggest arms Eddie had ever seen. “There’s more than one punter in this place. If you can count that high?”

“Jesus, he can be such an a-hole,” mumbled Steve. He shot off, even as Eddie bleated: 

“See you tomorrow?”

…

Only seven people turn up for Corroded Coffin’s gig. It was a total dud, and Eddie didn’t give a shit. 

Among the seven, was Steve. 

The crappy too-bright venue lighting revealed Steve undressing Eddie with his eyes, as surely as Eddie undressed Steve. Eddie was so blown away, he almost messed up the finger work on his most bodacious solo.

After the final number, Eddie placed down his guitar and made a beeline for Steve: “Hey, you made it.”

“Figured I might as well. Jon Bon Jovi wasn’t returning my calls.” Steve snickered, and Eddie literally drooled. Metal thrummed through his every vein, and his blood rushed madly—most of it heading south. Steve Harrington CAME TO MY GIG AND STAYED FOR THE NON-EXISTENT AFTER-PARTY. Steve’s vest top was sadly missed, but his tight t-shirt still afforded Eddie a glimpse of that tasty chest hair, and the skin-tight jeans were… Gnnng! And as for the touch of eyeliner? 

Slayed Eddie dead.

“You wanna come backstage?” Eddie’s voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

“I’d like a drink. Preferably something stronger than coffee, and that I don’t have to pour.”

After his sixth shot, Eddie went in for the kill: “You are literally the hottest fucking thing I have ever goddamn seen.”

“Not exactly slick.” Steve leaned close, and Eddie inhaled his fast, bourbon-spiced breaths. “But I guess it’s a step up on ‘do you come here often.’” 

Eddie silenced him with a blockbuster kiss, which Steve returned instantly. Within moments, Eddie was up off his barstool, hands roving wildly over Steve’s delicious torso. Okay, also wandering around to pry under his tight t-shirt, and to grope that mega-hot denim-clad ass. Steve pawed Eddie with equal enthusiasm, setting his barstool rocking till it toppled back. 

He jumped off, straight into Eddie’s arms. Wow! There was nothing better than kissing somebody roughly your own height. Back at school, he’d figured Steve was a lot taller than him—like most jocks, he’d had that early spurt of growth, Eddie guessed. Then Eddie had more of less caught up, and now..? Yeah, everything had changed, all his preconceptions thrown to the winds. Best of all, Steve had turned out to be a good dude.

Also, the best kisser ever.

They made out like their lives depended on it, tongues sliding together, slickly and keenly. Meanwhile, despite the hotness, all those sweet moments over coffee crammed together in Eddie’s head.

You are the highlight of my life… The light of my goddamn life! How come this took so long?

Then, as abruptly as it started, Steve broke the kiss. He staggered back into his stool, setting it rocking again. “Shit!”

“Oooookay.” Eddie felt like he’d been punched. “Used to that in gig write-ups, but—”

“Oh God, no… It’s not you. It’s so not about you. This was a terrible idea.” He knocked Eddie’s fingers from where they lingered on his hip, and sidestepped, placing the barstool between them.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s about me, Munson, so you can quit the goddamn kicked-puppy-dog eyes.” Erm, back at ya, Harrington. “I’m with another guy, okay?” He laughed, and somehow, it was one of the most miserable sounds Eddie had ever heard. “I didn’t think we’d… Look, I really shouldn’t have come.” 

With that, he bolted.

…

Eddie got to the diner super-early on Monday morning. He’d barely thought of anything other than Steve, who was no longer simply his secret crush. Or even the light of his life. 

Without exactly knowing why, Eddie was pretty much dying with worry for him.

Steve didn’t pour Eddie’s coffee. He dumped the pot on the counter, emoted unwelcomingly with hard-set features, and hurried off to take a table order. Which he then headed out back to prepare.

Eddie waited. He was gonna be late for work, and his boss would give him an earful, and he really couldn’t give a crap.

The diner emptied out, and eventually, Steve emerged from the back, mouthing:

“What the Hell?”

“I needed to see you, Steve.” Steve glared at him, and Eddie did a double take. Steve looked more exhausted than ever, shadows stark as bruises around his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Saturday was a big mistake. Huge. Had an argument with my boyfriend about it, that’s all. Scram, will you?”

Steve’s boss came out from the back. Steve emoted wildly again, shooed Eddie, and the truth dawned. And was slammed home when Dave slapped Steve’s butt—scowling at Eddie, as he did so—then grabbed Steve’s shoulders, spiralled him about, and shoved him off in the direction of another table awaiting service.

“Either you place another order, or get lost,” said Dave to Eddie.

Eddie ordered pancakes and waited.

“Dave? Seriously?” hissed Eddie, when he finally got Steve’s attention again. He begrudgingly admitted Dave was okay looking. All the same: “He’s a dick! And he’s gotta be old enough to be your dad.”

Steve edged close, talking so fast and hushed Eddie strained to follow. “My parents threw me out. I was on the streets! Dave was… good to me, took me in, and now… I’m kinda stuck. He takes my rent out of my wages, and there’s never anything left, and—”

“You need to get away from him, man.” Eddie felt sick. Somehow, he burbled it out: “Leave the son-of-a-bitch. Right now. You can crash with me.”

“You live in your uncle’s trailer! He’d be beyond thrilled, I’m sure, and Dave would…” Steve’s mouth hung open a moment. He’d what? Come after you? “Look, I’m okay. Dave’s all right, really. Gets grouchy sometimes, that’s all.”

Eddie spouts the next question before he can stop himself. “Do you love him?”

Steve tossed his arms up in despair: “What kinda dumbass question is that?” Yeah, Eddie wants to facepalm. In retrospect, it was truly dumb! “Look, he doesn’t know who I saw on Saturday, but he’s already bitching about you hanging around too much. Just fucking go already!”

Eddie didn’t drive on to the construction site. Instead, as his brain screamed, You’re batshit crazy, he pawned all his meagre possessions, even his beloved Warlock. His plan only faltered when Wayne caught wind of him going to a loan shark. His uncle literally dragged him from their office and insisted on lending Eddie all his scant savings.

Eddie refused. Wayne refused harder. They headed to the second-hand dealership and purchased the cheapest RV in the yard.

Next morning, Eddie trundled his rusty 1960s Volkswagen into the forecourt of Dave’s Diner. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and moseyed through the door like a gunslinger and about to unleash hell. One that was also trembling like jello, packing zero heat, and practically pissing himself.

“Got my own place now,” he said to Steve.

Steve looked mad, refused him even a coffee cup, though Dave didn’t seem to be around. Yet. “This isn’t happening, Eddie.”

“My place has got wheels, darlin’.” Eddie motioned to the RV outside, dropped his voice to an undertone. “It’s a big country. We can go anywhere. I’ll park up half-a-mile along the road. Wait all day. All night, if you need.”

Steve eked tight words from between gritted teeth: “Look, I don’t wanna sound ungrateful. It’s still a ‘no,’ man. You must have gone cuckoo. I mean, what about your band?”

Yeah, that brought a pang to Eddie’s chest: “Honestly? The rest of the guys are losing interest fast. I can fly solo. As long as you’ll fly with me?”

Dave strode out from the back. The flash of fear in Steve’s eyes cut Eddie to the quick, because it also hollered, You’re making things worse!

Oh God, what’ve I done?

“You’re barred,” yelled Dave at Eddie. “I see your long-haired loony mug one more time, you can kiss my fist.”

“Subtle you ain’t, asshat.”  Eddie retreated, literally a mangy, kicked dog. He drove the RV that half-a-mile along the road and waited. And waited. By midnight, he felt like his heart had been wrung dry, and eventually, he fell asleep.

A loud thudding roused him. He sat up, blinked at his unfamiliar surroundings and then… Shiiiit! He dashed to the door.

Steve perched on the step, his wide eyes glowing with something… unfamiliar. Some sparkle that might just be hope. He’d gotten a very small bundle slung over his shoulder.

“I hope you were serious?” asked Steve.

“Deadly serious, darlin’.”

Steve took Eddie’s face in his hands, and kissed him, briefly, almost chastely. Totally mind blowing. “So good to do that without feeling guilty,” he murmured, smoothing kiss-wetted lips together.

Eddie grinned; he wasn’t even quite sure if this was real: “Let’s get the Hell out of Dodge,” he said.

They hit the road, and they never looked back.

…

Three months later

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” cooed Eddie, as the Hawkins pawn shop owner handed his Warlock back across the counter. “I missed you soooo much.”

“Ugh, seriously?” bitched Steve, as soon as they exited the store. He blocked Eddie’s path along the sidewalk, planted his hands on his hips: “Should I be jealous?”

“Nah. We’re a proper family now.” With his guitar safely stowed in its case, he slung an arm around Steve, and they walked on toward where they’d parked the RV. “Tho’ when we get to Wayne’s, I might have a moment with my long-lost beloved. While you two watch the game.”

“No funny business, Sweetcheeks, or I’m absconding with a second-hand Yamaha keyboard.”

Eddie beamed broadly. It felt so weird, being back in Hawkins, and with hope, at least, for a better future. Not even having to worry about… “You know, I kinda want to thank Chief Hopper in person for arresting your douchebag ex.”

“Yeah, well, he put a guy in the hospital.” Steve shuddered. “They’ve charged him with attempted homicide.”

God, I’m so relieved it wasn’t you, thinks Eddie.

Steve rattled out a joyless laugh that Eddie hadn’t heard for some time, and said, “Jesus, I’m so happy it wasn’t you.”

Suddenly, Eddie’s eyes brimmed with tears. It’s too much. He can’t bear to think of what might have been. “Love you so much,” he blurted, fumbling for the keys for the RV. He couldn’t get up the steps and inside with Steve fast enough

“Love you too,” whispered Steve, once the door was closed, and sounding slightly choked, also. Which isn’t like him.

They clasped each other tighter than ever, and did their darndest to kiss the bad memories away.

[shotokimchi]

Cigarettes After Sex

Just a small drabble I decided to write because apparently, I can't stop thinking about this man ya'll lmao

W: f!reader, reader smokes, mentions of sex, fluff, gojo being a man child as always

Just Gojo waking up to an empty bed after having a steamy night with you, he whines and searches for the spot you should be sleeping on only for his hand to meet with silky white sheets. His nose takes notice of the lingering smell of nicotine in the air, nose twitching and scrunching up with dislike which causes him to vocally whine, hoping to get your attention so you can join him in bed (after brushing your teeth and changing your clothes of course, cuz he's not a fan of the smell). After multiple attempts of exaggerated huffs and puffs and small calls of 'baby' s. The handsome man-child finally makes an effort to turn his face towards the balcony, his shiny azul capri eyes meeting your back, eyes slowly trailing up from your thighs towards your head (you are wearing his white shirt which exposes the fat of your thighs to his hungry eyes) He giggles and bites his lips, trying to contain his excitement. You are here with him, in your shared apartment. Watching the city with a cigarette in your hand while the marks he left sits prettily on your canvas-like skin. It makes him happy, feels like he owns every special thing about you, he kicks the covers on him with a groan and slowly waddles over to you while scratching that one part at the back of his head, white long fingers checking if his undercut got longer, it's been 2 weeks since he got them trimmed. He slowly slides the glass door open, causing you to turn and give him a "morning" smile. "Come back to bed baby~" He whines and slowly circles his arms around your waist while dramatically dropping his head on your shoulder, his nose making contact with that one spot on your neck, causing you to twitch and giggle in return.

He gives you a sincere chuckle and blows a raspberry into your neck, causing your giggles to turn into squeaky laughter. You run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp with your slightly long nails, causing his eyes to roll at the back of his head, he voices his pleasure by letting out a pleased groan. "Go back to bed Toru, I'll join you in a second kay?" He frowns and shakes his head multiple times while digging his face into your shoulder. He is super clingy but you love it, love the amount of need he has, love the constant cravings for affection love the genuine smile that appears on his face every time your eyes meet his. Love it when he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug after not seeing you for a full day. Love how his eyes shine brighter after you surprise him with the desserts you've baked. He is your Satoru, your one and only true love. "What are you thinking so deeply about?" The certain amount of curiosity in his tone interrupts your thoughts. You slowly turn towards him and this time it's you who's circling your arms around his waist, while slowly laying your head on his chest you let out a content sigh "I'm thinking about you." stiffening from your words, his bright eyes look at you with interest. "About me?" You finally raise your head and rest your chin on his chest while taking in the beauty on your lover's face "I was thinking about how much I love you." It's easy to notice the quick appearance of surprise on his face followed by a handsome grin taking its place on his glossed lips, he is holding you a bit tighter this time. His eyes bright and the tips of his ears dusted with a pretty shade of red. "Awww I knew you were obsessed with me baby." He quickly masks his coyness with his usual smugness but the poker face doesn't last longer when you reply with words of affection instead of your usual playful attitude, this time you don't play along, you just want to actually show how much you love him. "Yeah I am obsessed with you, I love you Toru, whatever I do and wherever I go you are the only thing on my mind, i cant- Woah" He cuts you off by quickly lifting you onto his shoulder and dashes inside, his movements fast and impatient, he quickly drops you onto the bed and gets on top of you, caging you between his bulky arms and rests a pointer finger on your pretty lips, your brows slowly quirk up after seeing the slight amount of surprise and shyness in his eyes and you land a small kiss onto the tip of his finger. "I know it's impossible to resist me, baby~" The usual playfulness takes over and he lifts the white shirt up, landing kisses on your stomach while gazing up at you "Says you who was as red as a tomato ten seconds ago~" He raises a brow at your comeback and grins wider, "Says you who was blushing like crazy while screaming my name last ni- ACK" you quickly pinch his arm causing him to pout and slowly bite the fat of your tummy. This time you are the one who is whining while trying to pry him off of you while he attacks your stomach with a bunch of kisses followed by small nibbles of his teeth. You tug at his hair causing him to bring his attention to your face, cupping his cheeks with your hands you bring his face towards yours to land a passionate kiss on his lips, he whines into the kiss and puts his hand on top of your's which is currently resting on his cheeks, after feeling like you are losing consciousness you slowly break from the kiss and rest your forehead on his "You smell like cigarettes babe." But the playfulness in his tone doesn't match his eyes this time, they are soft and hazy while gazing into your own, filled with love and affection so you simply ignore the remark and smile "I love you Toru." He reciprocates your smile while rubbing his nose onto yours and utters the words he wants to scream while he is on top of the world, so everyone can hear how much he cherishes you "I love you too baby."

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A/N: I wrote this at 3 AM so don't come at me if there a bunch of typos and stuff I was feeling affectionate c: I was craving my man's so hope ya'll feel the same cuz GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE-

[starhvney]

Hi hello!! I absolutely adore your writing and I hope you're having a good day!

I was wondering if maybe I could request a (mystreet) Zane x Reader with a reader who loves spoiling + pampering him all while he's still wrapping his mind around the fact anyone could even like him romantically lol. If not no worries!!

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet zane x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when you don't expect love to find you, it's hard to comprehend when it does. for zane, it's a mystery.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, slight hurt/comfort? zane cries just a lil bit, otherwise super cute

𝐂𝐖: none?

𝐀/𝐍: i made this a bit more emotional than anon probably intended with the request. but i’m weak for men who are vulnerable so i had to do it to em. i have a soft spot for zane i want to be besties with him my lil emo pookie wookie. also guys i finished this after drinking half a bottle of wine so if there's any typos i'm sorry lolll

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

zane had gone quiet ten minutes ago, his eyes spacing away as he blankly nodded along to whatever you said. you ignored it at first, trying to figure out if it was just you overthinking things or if something about him was really off.

you had excitedly asked him over to hang out. it wasn’t the first time, but this time you decided to be extra affectionate and doting on him. fresh baked heart shaped cookies were laid out on the coffee table as you ushered him to rest on the couch with you. you turned on whatever show he wanted while you had him rest his head on your lap.

sliding his scarf down his face, you lean over him as you rub his cheeks with your thumbs. it was a shame he covered and hid his face so often. while he acted different from his brothers, he still most definitely looked like them, and the ro’meave boys never had any bad complaints about their looks. 

porcelain skin somehow was perfectly clear, save for the freckles that painted along his straight nose and high cheekbones. thick dark hair starkly contrasted against his face, the same color beautifully framing his bright icy-blue eyes. 

“you’re so pretty.” you whisper. 

the apple of his cheeks glow red and his lips warble, his fingers trailing across the fabric of his mask as if he was tempted to pull it back up to hide away.

“you’re prettier.” he refutes, the genuineness and uncertain shyness in his tone enough to keep you from teasing him.

you merely tap his nose, before your fingers trail up to his thick black hair. gingerly, you pull it back, fully exposing his other eye and the light scar that nicked his eyelid and brow. with a satisfied hum, you lean back to grab the bag you had prepared before.

“what’s that?”

“skin care.”

“for…?”

“you! will you let me?”

“...if you want.”

you quietly cheer in victory, a smile on your face. his lips twitch up and his eyes glisten as up at you while you begin your routine. as soon as you start massaging products into his face, he sleepily drifts his attention to the tv. after a moment his muscles go limp against you, a deep exhale leaving through his nose. 

you poke his nose and lean down to kiss his freckles, giggling as his ears grow red. one kiss follows another, and another, and another, as your lips touch and trace each mark along his pale skin. he made a whimpering noise of protest, pale hands reaching up to hold your face in place as your lips had threatened another kiss on his soft cheeks. 

“hm?” you question. dark lashes hide his eyes as they dart away from your face and towards the screen.

“it’s nothing.” he mumbles, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as his hands drop back down to his side.

your eyebrows pinch at his sudden mood change, but you don’t question him further, reaching over to feed him a cookie instead.

“okay…” you simply return, patting his cheek as he chews the sweet snack. “are the cookies good?”

“mhm.” he nods, voice warbling as he hums.

a moment passes, the background noise of the show the only other noise in the room as you stare down at him. his lashes still hide his eyes from you as they brush along his cheekbones.

“what’s wrong?” you finally question.

the question is met with silence as you feel his shoulders tense against your legs. your fingers reach out to gently brush against his cheeks.

“zane, look at me.”

finally his eyes drift back up to yours, icy blue glazed over with emotion.

“why are you so quiet?”

“i’m just… confused, i guess.” he mutters.

instead of asking him, you patiently wait for him to continue, tilting your head as you lightly trace small shapes across his face.

“well, confused isn’t the right word… or maybe it is?” he groans, pale hands reaching up to rub against his face. “you’re just… so sweet. i can barely imagine any girl giving me the time of day, let alone you. i guess i still just don’t understand why you’d want to spend your time and energy on me. it’s not like i was your last choice, either. you’re beautiful and unbearably kind. You could have anyone you wanted. And i’m just… me.”

for a moment you don’t know how to respond, completely taken by his words. your fingers pause against his jawline, and he freezes at your following silence. his eyes widen in regret, and for a moment you swear he looks on the verge of tears before he shoots up from his spot on your lap.

“it’s nothing, forget it.” he mumbles quickly, facing away from you.

“no! no, it’s not nothing, i was just surprised!” you leap forward to hug him from behind, voice scrambling to comfort him. “i didn’t think you felt that way.”

your hands connect over his chest, feeling his heart thud in his chest. his rib cage stutters as he takes in a shaky breath, one hand reaching up to grip onto yours.

“zane, i chose you because i love you. i treat you like this because i truly want to.”

slowly, he twists his body to look back at you. you’re barely able to see the shine of the tear running down his cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck, practically tackling you back down into the couch. his hands tightly wrap around you, holding you close as he lays on top of you. your heart swells at his vulnerability, a side he had rarely shown to you. 

“i love you.” his voice whispers back to you, the words barely loud enough to be heard if you weren’t paying attention.

“when you’re not pretending to be a grumpy, unhappy little grouch, you’re one of the sweetest men i’ve ever met.” you continue, rubbing one hand along his back while the other runs through his hair.

the neckline of your shirt feels damp, and you feel another shaky exhale against your collarbone.

“thank you.”

“i adore you, zane. you don’t need to thank me for something that isn’t a chore to me.”

his head shifts, turning towards the screen as he quietly stares at the show playing on the screen. you pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over the two of you, hugging him to your chest and continuing to rub his back.

“want to stay here for a while?” you ask softly.

“...yeah.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[bipbopdepmop]

short boatem summer fic

based on this post -> (link) by @applestruda

Picture this: 

It is the hottest day of the year. The sun beats down relentlessly upon any poor sap that gets caught out in it. The heat can only be described as ‘being hit in the face with a sack full of bricks that have somehow been set on fire.'

We see the Boatem crew going about various activities as the very same sun spills into an overly warm room onto well-worn floorboards. The room is small and neat. There is a crooked green carpet on the floor and pictures on the wall of five laughing people. It is a room that has seen lots of love. 

A fan whirs steadily in the background. Impulse turns the page of his book, letting out a long sigh. Mumbo waters his plants, mumbling to himself and occasionally making a noise that is either pleased or disgruntled as he inspects his plants. So far, he has said “Ah!” in a pleased way fourteen times and “oh!” in a displeased way twelve times. Scar began counting an indeterminate amount of time ago out of sheer boredom. He’s been sitting in front of the fan for what feels like forever. It’s only been five minutes. Jellie meows. Impulse turns another page. Time drips by like honey. Every heat-filled second seems to take an hour to pass. 

Footsteps. Enter Grian, bright wings flashing at the edge of Scar’s vision. He would look over, call out a greeting but that would mean exposing his face to the heat. Grian is not worth braving the heat, he decides.

“I am never going to move again,” Grian complains. “I am just going to lay here and melt.”

“That seems like a good plan,” Impulse agrees with a small chuckle from the only shady corner in the room. A foot prods Scar’s side. 

Poke. “Scar, move over.” Another, more insistent poke. 

He turns his head, just a little. The right side of his face is now uncomfortably warm, exposed to the Void-forsaken heat. Grian really does look terrible, hair plastered to his forehead, face red and sunburnt and ear-feathers limp. 

“I was here first!” Scar says, a bit indignant. First dibs, right? “Go get your own fan. There’s one somewhere around here.” He ducks a little, but not enough to avoid the wing that whacks him in the head.

“Ow!” he says halfheartedly, turning his head to face Impulse. Ah, sweet, sweet relief for the right side of his face, not so much for his left. “Impulse, Grian hit me!” 

“Grian did nothing of the sort,” Grian interjects, tone bright and innocent-sounding. Another wing whacks Scar again. “Scar’s the one hogging the fan.”

With a long suffering sigh, Impulse looks up from his book. The glare that Scar receives is just short of withering. Got it. Don’t interrupt Impulse. Scar yelps as he is rudely pushed over onto the floor and into the sun. The floor burns to the touch. His poor, poor, super muscle-y arms. Betrayal! Blood! Trauma! Death! He will never forgive Grian for this. He will pay. 

A thump. Grian’s sigh of sheer relief is almost pathetic. Sure enough, Grian’s face is now inches from the fan, eyes closed in pure joy. Scar groans dramatically. 

“Grian, how could you? My very own brother-in-arms!” 

Grian scoffs. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

“Me?” Scar gasps. “I would never.”

“Oh you absolutely would,” Mumbo says with a snort. 

“Fine, fine! I see how it is around here. No love for good ol’ Scar! C’mon Jellie, we can go join the Big Eyes Crew. I bet they have a fan. I bet their fan is bigger than ours. After all, Bdubs’ smile is the biggest there is. He’s probably got the biggest fan too.” Impulse snorts and turns the page. Grian’s wings rustle. Mumbo makes his fifteenth “Ah!” His plants must be doing well.

Scar sighs, pulling himself into an upright position and drapes himself over Grian’s shoulders. “See, this way we can share the fan!” 

“Scar,” Grian whines, dragging his name out exasperatedly. “You’re too warm! Go away.” 

“Come on Grian, you can say it,” he teases, smiling. “I’m too hot. I’m too hot for you.”

Scar grunts as Grian elbows him in the side, throwing him off his shoulders. Huffing, he leans against Grian’s back instead. If he can’t get the fan, a nice backrest will do. Even if that backrest has really, really pokey bony wings that dig into his back. Maybe he’ll take a nap and when he wakes up, it’ll all be over. He closes his eyes.

After what barely seems like ten minutes, he hears Pearl say “What’s all this? You guys look absolutely pathetic.” Cracking his eyes open a little and turning his head to face her, he sees her in all her moth-y glory, standing over them. She has a shopping bag in one hand. Slowly, she reaches in and pulls out-

A freezer pop.

Scar might cry. He’s never seen such a beautiful sight. He might pick Pearl up and twirl her around in joy if it weren’t so dang-blasted hot.

---

[thetfchangingroom]

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You always wanted to be a bodybuilder, and to be a great bodybuilder, you need a great personal trainer.

But you didn’t want any old trainer. You wanted someone you could aspire to be, someone you looked forward to seeing at the gym each day, towering over you as you worked out.

Enter Joshua, with his XXL tank tops and shorts so short they may as well be underwear. The guy is so big he has to walk sideways out of the bathroom. He drives a pickup cus it’s the only car he can fit in. He practically lives at the gym.

He’s perfect, you thought.

But Joshua’s training methods are… unconventional. In your first session, he asked a lot of personal questions: where you worked, where you lived, etc. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then the bodybuilder snapped his fingers and suddenly you were staring at yourself from across the table.

See, Joshua prefers a more “hands on” approach with his clients, and with the ability to swap bodies with the snap of his fingers, that means getting in your body and doing all the work himself.

As for you? You get to experience life as a bodybuilder first hand, and see if it’s the right life for you.

For the next three months, you’ll lug around all 290 pounds of Joshua. You’ll endure 6 meals a day to satisfy his impossible mass, ogled gazes from every onlooker you pass, and a constant cool breeze on your perpetually exposed skin.

Yeah, those gym clothes are about the only thing that fits good ol’ Joshua. No wonder he spends all his time at the gym. I suspect you’ll spend the rest of your time naked—either sleeping or standing at the mirror, flexing and posing and massaging those titanic muscles.

Not the life you expected? Life never is. Most of Joshua’s clients quit after the first few months. The ones that don’t end up exactly like him: impractically big and impossibly vain.

On the bright side, having Joshua’s body also means having his cock to play with when you get bored. It’s hard to tell under the tank, but he’s 12-inches full mast, and uncut so the head is super sensitive. All his clients say that was the best part.

Happy training! 💪

Click the link and follow my Instagram for more short transformation captions!

[rafedaddy01]

a request!! love your writing bebsss ❤️✨

rafe cameron x f!reader where reader has many insecurities abt her body and she cries to sarah abt them but she doesnt tell her that she has been starving herself, until a pool party where she and rafe are invited where she faints after not having eaten in days and then rafe is like super worried and fluffy and he is taking her to the hospital bc she doesnt wake up. when theyre at the hospital they tell him that she doesnt have food in her system and he is like super worried and when she wakes up he is so happy and he talks to her abt it and tells her how much he loves her and how beautiful she is and maybe she takes her home and it ends with smut? thank you!! ❤️❤️

Notes: aww, thank you so much babes. Sorry it took a while to get this to you

You stood in front of the mirror, examining your body. You hated the way you looked. Too much, too little, you could never get the perfect body like all the other girls you saw. You heaved a great sign and put on the baggy sweater over your scrawny body and a pair of black leggings. You and Sarah were meeting tonight and you were a little never because you haven’t seen her in a while.

“Hey!” The bright girl beamed at you as you walked into her bedroom. “Oh my god I missed you!” She said tossing her perfectly tanned arms around your skinny body. “I missed you too” you said wrapping her in a hug.

“Hey.. you doin okay?” She said scrunching her eyebrows as she examined your baggy eyes that drooped with exhaust.

“I-I’m fine” you said feeling the tears starting.

“Y/n” Sarah said in a tone that meant she knew something was up and she demanded an answer.

You sighed. You wanted to tell her, tell her everything. How you were starving yourself for weeks now, how you haven’t slept because your stomach would hurt form being deprived food and how you’d cry almost every hour of the day. You couldn’t hold on anymore and broke down hysterically.

Sarah wrapped her arms around you as you rested your head on her shoulder and stained her dress in tears. “I-I’m s-sorry” you hiccuped as tears and snot surfaced your face and Sarah’s dress.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong” she said.

“I-I’ve just been struggling. I can’t help but feel ugly. I see all these pretty girls with perfect body’s and when I look in the mirror I hate myself and the way I look. I-I just don’t know what’s wrong with me!” You said in almost one breath as more tears streamed down your face.

You decided not to tell her how you’ve been starving yourself and throwing up so your body doesn’t gain calories because you didn’t want to be judged. Sarah most likely wouldn’t, but it was just a dirty secret you didn’t want exposed. She had a perfect body, she wouldn’t understand..

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with you. Your perfect the way you are, do you hear me? Your beautiful and strong and my brother is madly in love with you! Im so glad you could open up to me about this, but I don’t want you to hate yourself, I love you y/n and you need to start learning to love yourself, I’ll help you with whatever you need” she smiled as she stroked your back and comforted you.

The rest of the night was spent with Sarah comforting you and watching movies and snacking on ice cream and junk food. It was the most food you’ve eaten in days, you felt disgusted with yourself but you didn’t want Sarah to think something was up so you ate little by little.

The next day Rafe and you were invited to a pool party at toppers house, you spent the day with Sarah and when night came the two of you changed into swimsuits and met Rafe downstairs so you all could drive over to toppers.

“You look beautiful my love” Rafe said leaning over the console and placing a kiss to your cheek just as you all pulled up to toppers. “Ew, get a room you too” Sarah said opening the back door and walking away. You and Rafe laughed as you climbed out of the car and Rafe intertwined your fingers and walked to the pool.

You felt guilty having these insecurities when you had such a thoughtful man that loved you. You hadn’t eaten all week, besides for the junk food binge you had with Sarah, but that wasn’t enough to fill you up. At this point you trained your stomach not to grumble but you felt hunger you just ignored it.

Rafe went to mingle and you were left standing by the pool with a drink in hand. The music was loud and suddenly your vision blurred the voices and music distorted as your eyes rolled back and you plunged into the pool infront of you. The rest was a blur

You woke up in the hospital, confused. Rafes intense gaze held yours and your heart sank at the worry on this man’s face, the man you loved. All that guilt came rushing back. “W-what happened?” You croaked out as your throat itched

Rafe stood up and placed a straw in front of your lips encouraging you to take small sips. “Thank you” you said.

“You fainted y/n, doctor said you’d be fine but..” he said as he stared at you with so much love and concern

“But what?” You said.

“He said you have to stop starving yourself” Rafes voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him “why y/n? I don’t understand.. is- is it something I did or do?” Rafe struggled to understand

“No Rafe, I love you. And I’m sorry I worried you, I’m sorry I let it get this far. I-I just..” you didn’t know how to make him understand

“I just, sometimes I hate the way I look. I look in the mirror and I’m disgusted, I starve myself because I hate myself, my body” you said with a lump in your throat

Rafe rushed to your side and cupped your face as his thumb wiped the tears off your cheeks.

“Baby, I love you. I love you so so much, and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were feeling this way. I never want you to think about yourself like that” he kissed your lips softly as a sob escaped your lips. He pressed your body against his chest and you cried, but you also felt relief. The doctor eventually came and explained some things that might help and discharged you with Rafes promise of taking care of you and making sure you eat.

The two of you went home and Rafe made you some chicken noodle soup, he fed you and cuddled you into bed. The two of you watched a movie in each others arms.

Rafe ran his fingers up and down your arm, he left kisses on your neck that had your body heating up.

Your cheeks flushed as his kisses became more aggressive, leaving some marks and bites.

The next thing you knew Rafes head was under the covers and his lips were wrapped around your clit as your body squirmed and your mouth said such profanities you’d only hear in a porno.

He made you cum so hard with his tongue and planted kisses up your stomach to your face “I’m gonna show you just how sexy your body is” he said as he slipped free of his sweats and discarded the rest of your clothes.

Rafe had a mirror placed perfectly at the bed and he propped you up so he was behind you and your face was facing the mirror “watch how beautiful you are y/n” Rafe whispered as he stroked your back and rubbed his tip against your folds.

“Fuck” you said under your breath as he slowly pushed inside you.

Rafe groaned as he halted, balls deep. Only to retract and slam back into you. “Shitttt” he groaned “holy fuck y/n, you feel so good”

“Fuck! Rafe!” You moaned as you watched him pound into you from behind in the mirror.

He spent the rest of the night showing you how gorgeous you were and worshipping your body in extravagant ways. You vowed never to starve yourself again unless you wanted to limp for days, because Rafe would show you just how much he appreciated your body with his fingers, mouth and cock.

You promised him that if you ever had thoughts of starving yourself or any hateful feelings towards yourself that you’d talk to him about it. Your heart swelled at the love you had for this man, he was perfect for you and you him. He’d always be there for you and you felt guilty for ever thinking he’d judge you for your insecurities. He meant every word he said about being there for you and worshipping you, he never stopped showing his love for you.

Rafe Cameron was madly in love with you and you were madly in love with him.

He’d spend the rest of his years proving to you that your worth it, and he did good to his promise. He will never stop loving you.

“I fucking love you” he groaned as his hips rutted into you and he released his love deep inside you, it wasn’t about rough sex for Rafe anymore. He spent time with you and he made love to your body.

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism

[lovezbrownies]

(MYandere! Superhero x GN!Reader)

Masterlist

(Decided to make an oc strictly non-sexual, so he is asexual, I noticed I've been making a lot of sexual fics lately and wanted to change it up :) have fun! Also made my posts prettier )

Synopsis: You don't check the news often enough, so when civilians were warned against walking near or through a certain area you were none the wiser... Giving your stalker a chance to save you from doom.

Luminary x Reader.

Warnings: Mentioned stalking, kidnapping, not edited at all :(.

You had a routine. Get up bright and early for your 7 AM office job, get to work, come home at 2 PM, relax for 2 or so hours, then go out for a short walk at the park near your apartment. You never really deviate from your usual walking pattern, yet today you felt adventurous– Ironic, of all days to be adventurous and wander off to a new path that same exact path ends up being infested with blood-lusted slime creatures from the dark abyss of this world.

Obviously you thought something was off but you just could not put your finger on it! Sure it was creepy how as you kept walking the area got quieter, lonelier, darker, but you just thought that there was some superhero nearby and everyone wanted a picture with them, that has happened before. Or maybe today just wasn’t your day, your natural ‘hey this feels dangerous let’s turn back’ system may be experiencing some difficulties… And now you find yourself running faster than you have ever run in your life. Leaping away from the hungry monsters attempting to catch you and devour you.

These slimy demons had popped up a few decades ago, a few years after the sudden appearance of super humans. No one knows where either came from, how they sprung, or the exact science behind their sudden appearance. But now they’re here, not a lot of people get blessed with super powers, and those who do immediately get enlisted, either by their own will or their parents force them to when they’re young. Some people don’t enlist even with superpowers, some people have such rare superpowers that they’re forced into the work field, those people mostly being healers and supernaturally intelligent people.

You were none of those, a normal average human, with a normal average job, and a normal average routine. And here you were, endangering your life, for your stupid physical health. Not like you’d have any of your physical health after this, you’re going to be in a monster’s stomach in about 5 minutes. You already were slowing down, the constant zig zagging decreasing your stamina fast. Looking back at the monsters chasing you.

What you didn’t expect was to stumble over an exposed cable, falling flat on your face, your ears start ringing, blocking out the noises of your own panting and whimpering as well as the monster's evil noises. You immediately huddled into the fetal position, as if it would minimize any of the tormenting pain you’ll be feeling soon but… nothing, no ripping of the skin, no crushing of the bones, no hearts being slowly devoured by evil monsters. None of it. 

Yet you kept your eyes clenched shut, maybe the monsters are confused with your stupidity that they just stood there processing before they finally have at it. Slowly the ringing in your ears subsided, and you heard nothing, no growling monsters or anything, nothing other than your own panting, as well as… footsteps? The sound of a sly chuckle startles you, causing you to crack open your eyes and you were greeted by the shining bright smile of the world famous superhero, Luminary.

Luminary– A man of unnaturally strong power, he was invincible, untouchable. You liked him enough for saving the city many times before but didn’t really idolize him, superhero or not he still was a human with human emotions, whatever people say about him online can still affect him. So you kept to yourself when it came to superhero affairs. But from the short snippets you’d see online you had a lot in common with him, shows, interests, hobbies. You always thought that it was all a carefully crafted lie to make him seem more relatable to the average plebeians, or whatever who knows.

You were star struck, ironically enough you wanted to act normal around him but you couldn’t even form words. Luminary’s shining smile still pointed towards you. He held out his hand, intending for you to grasp at it and use it to steady yourself up. “Hello there! I take it you haven’t seen the news this morning, huh? Haha! No worries, your trusty hero is always there to save you.” You just sat there gaping up at him, the personal embodiment of a star. 

Maybe it was the exhaustion, the shock, or the superhero in front of you, but you fainted, completely collapsed, thankfully you didn’t hit your head since you were already lying down.

Luminary had watched you run for your life from the creatures earlier. But he couldn’t care less of them, his eyes were on you, the person he’s had a crush on since the 11th grade, you never knew of his existence but he didn’t care, he’ll eventually weasel his way into your life but right now he’s content on stalking you. Or so he thought, until you endangered your life and almost got yourself killed when you tripped.

Seeing the once in a lifetime opportunity to weasel his way into your life. Luminary picked you right off the dirty ground, his heartbeat accelerating, every little part of you he touches feels like electricity. Years of one sided obsession and just now is he making contact with you, practically committing himself to abstinence just for you. Luminary felt like a schoolgirl as he giggled at the sight of you resting your head on his shoulder.   Luminary’s flight home was delightful, you smelt amazing, and you even snuggled into him in your sleep! He could just explode! Once he entered his humble abode, Luminary placed you on his bed, his eyes practically turning heart shaped at the thought of late night cuddles with you…