#this is why i should make up stuff before they get revealed-

[timmydraker]

CW: drugs

When Tim is seventeen, Bruce gets a call from his principal asking for a private meeting to discuss Tim’s education. It’s not abnormal, but the parent teacher meetings weren’t due for another month and something about the tone of Professor Wilcot’s voice leaves Bruce concerned.

He organises it for the next afternoon and politely tells the timid looking man to please get to the point.

Wilcot answers with a tight lipped frown, “I recently discovered that Tim has a few nicknames. Now, that in itself isn’t a probably but the names themself are… concerning.”

Bruce immediately thinks of Red Robin and worries his son has been caught, but that makes little sense when Tim has shown to be the best at contingencies and secret keeping.

“Such as?”

With a deep sigh the man continues, “Well, there’s ‘Benzo’ and ‘Opi’. As well as ‘27’, which is recently learned references a so called ‘club’ of celebrities who die at that age for-for drug abuse.”

Even if he wasn’t a detective, Bruce could easily put it all together. Benzodiazepines and opioids, both drugs and a number well tied to such a thing all regarding a famed person.

It’s like he’s just gotten inside from being drenched in snow and had hot water dunked on him as dozens of different moments come to mind. He remembers Tim going from being down and low, tired and drained to suddenly being extra alert and chatty. He assumed it was coffee, but Tim often had a red nose and sniffled like mad.

He also got shakes, was made fun of by his brothers for being a sweaty person, and irritable at the best of times. He was jumpy and easily spooked, which everyone connected to him growing up safe and getting no sleep.

Tim also had forgotten basic case information a few times but usually managed to cover it up.

Bruce had noticed and responded by trying to lessen his work load, only for Tim to scream at him, storm off and come back looking drowsy a couple of hours later.

Wilcot doesn’t speak for a while, seemingly giving Bruce the chance to process his words but when he does it’s just to put forward the last bit of evidence Bruce needs.

“I admit it isn’t exactly ethical, but I check Mister Drake-Wayne’s locker and… I thought it would be best if I let you chose how to proceed lest I harm his reputation.”

A bottle, almost empty, of Oxycodone and a half full bottle of Oxymorphone.

Bruce looks away when the last bottle lands on the table, it’s a benzodiazepines called Dalmane and there are no pills because they’ve all been crushed into a powder.

Bruce doesn’t even want to think about how those drugs interact.

Wilcot says one last thing before he leaves the room, quit clearly giving Bruce a moment as the reveal settles in his mind, “Tim is a good kid. He’s kind to everyone and I truely hope he can get help. Please, if there is anything I can do, contact me. Other than that, I will keep this quiet. Please take care of him.”

Let it be said that Bruce Wayne loves his children, he genuinely cares for them and most importantly, he likes who each of them are.

But he’s not always the best father to them, not when he’s too far in his head and his head is too far up his arse.

He tries to confront Tim calmly and with compassion at first but it becomes clear he isn’t qualified to deal with it and he should have gotten Alfred or even Dick. When Batman deals with addicts all he has to do is get them to a hospital and show he isn’t judging them, but with his own son and when he’s not being Batman…

Tim instantly locks up when Bruce shows him the bottles and his defences go straight into overdrive, “Bruce, don’t. That’s not fair! Did you go through my fucking stuff?! That’s fucked up!”

Bruce looses his composure quickly, “Don’t you dare curse at me, Timothy. You are a goddamn hero and you’re doing this? Why did you tell me?! I could have helped you! Why, Tim?! You e seen what people who abuse drugs end up like-“

Tim screams so loud Bruce can practically hear how it hurts his throat, “WHAT FUCKING DRUGGIES?! IS THAT WHAT THEY END UP LIKE?! TOO FUCKING LATE BRUCE, YOU’RE TOO LATE! I GAVE YOU EVERY FUCKING SIGN AND YOU DID NOTHING SO FUCK OFF! I. AN HANDLE IT ON MY OWN!”

“This ain’t handling it, Tim. You’re addicted. You’re erratic, you’re bouncing from mood to mood and, have you seen how skinny you are? I’m worried, Tim.”

Maybe Tim would have been able to handle it better if he hadn’t been a few hours into withdrawal, but all he does is swing. He manages to catch Bruce of guard and hit him square in the jaw, only to realise what he’s done and start hitting himself the same way.

Bruce breaks as he watches his son who is usually so calm and controlled break down in a fit of aggression and pent up energy.

When Tim manages to hit himself hard enough Bruce. An hear a crack from his hand.

As he speaks again he dooms himself to a life time of regret, forever wishing he had gotten Alfred’s advice first.

“I’m sorry son, but until you’re clean, you will no longer be Red Robin.”

There’s a silence before Tim releases a wheezing laugh of disbelief.

It’s soon followed by the most enraged, harrowing scream Bruce has ever heard. It feels as if it shakes the walls before Tim kicks at his father’s stomach and bolts.

Bruce is too stunned to follow and foolishly assumes he can track his son anywhere.

Tim, even after he manages to shakily pull out the Dalmane he had in his pocket just as he passes the gate and take a big inhale, manages to put his mind together enough to remove his watch and key.

Bruce is forced to shamefully admit what happened a few hours later when he can’t find him and realises that Tim isn’t coming back.

Alfred for the first time in Bruce’s entire life actually glares at him.

Dick shouts at Bruce about how unbelievably stupid he is.

Jason just scoffs and says the kid will come back while Damian makes a comment about Tim being weak.

Maybe they would have reacted better if Bruce told them why Tim left, but he shamefully doesn’t want to admit he didn’t notice that Tim was a dealing with addiction under his own nose.

But Bruce has never been good with honesty.

[lucidd-the-weirdo]

Genuinely thought One would have a completly different personality and then here comes TPOT iwth a polar opposite of how I think they would act LMFAO One ginka for you mayhaps? :3

[swordfright]

this might just be because i'm a bit older than your average mcyt fan, but it makes me kind of sad to see all these younger fans scramble to wipe their mcyt fanworks off the internet the second a content creator is revealed to have done something awful.

don't get it twisted, I'm a big believer in rescinding financial support to ccs you no longer agree with or admire by unsubscribing, deciding not to buy merch, or refusing to give them ad revenue by watching their content. if you don't feel comfortable giving someone money, don't give them your money. material support isn't what i'm talking about here - I'm talking about fanfic, fansongs, fanart. yknow, content that fans create for themselves and each other, stuff that's not for ccs.

in the past year (and especially the past week, obviously) i've seen tons of mcyt fans saying they're planning to delete their art (or that they already have deleted) because they don't want their work to be associated with content creators who behaved badly, and that they want "a fresh start." I've seen fan writers say the same thing about their fics. and like, this is fine, do what you want with your stuff, but i'll be honest...it does make me sad that so many younger fans seemingly have been made to feel such a high degree of responsibility for ccs that they're unable to enjoy fandom (a thing that is FOR US! FOR YOU!) or take any measure of pride in their past fanworks.

again, at the end of the day you should do what you want with your own shit. but what i will say is, if what you want to do with your work is delete it, at least think first about why you're considering the nuclear option. you aren't responsible for a cc's behavior, and that goes for literally anyone who's ever had a hand in making anything you like: books, movies, games, anything. you shouldn't be made to feel ashamed of having created fan content for a piece of media that a shitty person was involved in making. straight up, this kind of shame isn't something i believe should exist in fandom, because it's parasocial in the same way that positive emotions towards media/creators can be parasocial.

and also, as someone who's been involved in fandom for a long time, i can say with confidence that creators will keep disappointing you like this. there are shitty people out there. if you're searching for a piece of media with zero shitty people ever involved in the project, you will not find it. i'm not saying this to normalize shitty behavior on the part of creators, I'm saying this to emphasize that bearing the shame and guilt of every creator to this degree is not sustainable or healthy (and it's not how fandom used to operate, but that's a conversation for another day, perhaps.)

i understand why so many folks are considering deleting their fanworks, and if that's you...think about it before you do it. that's all i'm asking. you don't want to create a habit of divesting yourself of all evidence of having been passionate about art created by someone who sucks, because if you do get into that habit, then your chances of ever truly enjoying a fandom again are, unfortunately, pretty slim.

[sakuravalelp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[apomaro-mellow]

steddie falls into porn cliches on accident

Steve was in the middle of washing the conditioner out of his hair, loving the silky smooth feeling and watching the water turn from cloudy to clear as it was all rinsed out. He was ready to start washing his body in earnest now, when he heard the doorbell ring.

For a second, he was ready to just ignore it, thinking it might be a delivery or someone trying to solicit. They could leave whatever they had on the doorstep or keep moving. Then the bell rang a second time and Steve remembered that he was in fact supposed to answer it.

Robin had hired a plumber to fix their sink. She told him they'd be coming between 8 am to noon. Steve had gotten in the shower exactly at eight, thinking surely he had enough time in that window. What kind of plumber showed up this promptly!?

Steve turned the shower off and grabbed the first robe off the hook. It wasn't his, he knew that. But in his defense, Robin wasn't home and he liked to air dry when he could. She could get mad at him later for snagging hers. He tied it hastily, rushing to the door before the plumber left.

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

Eddie waited for the door to be answered, checking his watch while he did. Today was his only appointment, so he thought he was doing well by showing up on the early end of the window. He was ready to spout the rehearsed script when the door opened. Good morning, Munson and Son Plumbing. You got a problem with your drain pipe? Well I'm here to fix it. Fun fact, I'm a guitarist, so I'm pretty good with my hands. Anyone you know looking for lessons?

His uncle didn't always like him plugging his side gig, but putting up posters around neighborhoods wasn't quite as successful as actual face time. Then the door fully opened and he got an entire eyeful. A dripping wet god of a man, his modesty just barely preserved in a bath robe. It did nothing to hide his thick, hairy thighs or impressive chest.

"Hi I'm here to handle your pipe!", Eddie blurted out. "I'm mean I'm good with my hands! P...plumbing! I'm the plumber, I'm here for your plumbing."

"Oh, y-yeah, we've been expecting you", Steve tried to close the top of his robe more and that made Eddie self conscious about staring.

Steve introduced himself and Eddie did the same as he was let into the house, somehow not putting his foot in his mouth as he did. Steve took him to the problem sink and Eddie got to work while Steve excused himself.

He went into his room, looking for something presentable only to find it was mostly his stuff for the club. Definitely not appropriate for a plumber visit. Then he remembered why. He had started a load of laundry last night. And when he woke up this morning, putting it in the dryer so it'd be ready once he was done with his shower.

He went to the laundry room to do just that, emptying the contents of the dryer into his hamper, bending over to do so. Once he was done, he'd be able to put together an outfit that didn't make him look like a desperate housewife.

Eddie had just finished tangling with the pipe. It didn't take as long as he had expected but his shirt was drenched now. He listened out for Steve, hoping he was nearby so that he didn't have to call for him, only to hear something...odd.

He followed the sound until he came to an open door and realized what the sounds were - little grunts of effort. Eddie bit his lip, letting logic and reason work themselves out. Steve knew he had someone in the house and the door was wide open so he couldn't be-

Eddie walked through the door and there was Steve, bent over, top half in the dryer, bottom half sticking out. His robe had began to hitch up, revealing just the bottom of that perfect ass.

"Holy shit", Eddie squeaked out.

"Hey? Plumber guy? I know this is awkward but would you mind helping me out? My robe got caught on something and I can't-I can't free myself."

"Um, okay? So should I just...should I just?", Eddie got behind Steve, hands fumbling. Should he adjust the robe or would that be rude?

"Just grab me and pull", Steve said, wriggling around more and stopping when he heard a rip.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I'll just", Eddie grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, to no avail.

"Gonna have to do it a bit harder than that", Steve said. "Here I'll, I'll try and push too."

Eddie swallowed as he pulled again, Steve's hips coming flush with his own and eliciting a gasp from the other man.

"A...again."

Eddie pulled again, harder this time. He had kind of been working with a half chub. The kind Steve had to feel right between his cheeks every time Eddie pulled on him.

Steve gasped with each time their hips came together and it was getting hard to pretend his asshole didn't flutter with each movement.

"Fuck, just fuck me already", Steve whined.

Eddie wasted no time in dropping his pants and rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, precum dripping and Steve still wet from the shower. The tip slipped in with ease and then the rest of him and Steve's hips wouldn't stay still and then he was fucking him oh shit he was fucking him he was fucking a client while on the clock.

Steve's voice sounded goddamn ethereal, echoing inside the tub of the dryer. He was giving as good as he got, pushing back with each thrust and Eddie got to watch his dotted cheeks jiggle with each impact.

Eddie pushed the robe up more, licking his lips as he was rewarded with the sluttiest back arch that he'd ever seen. He wasn't going to last and this Steve guy wasn't either. Eddie came first, one hand on Steve's hip and the other bracing itself on the dryer so that he didn't fall over. Steve's cock spilled into the floor, a mess to be dealt with later.

"Fuck...you really are good at handling pipes", Steve laughed through his panting.

When Eddie left that day, he didn't get Steve's number. But a week later their company got a call about a clogged toilet and specifically requested that Eddie come over, that they only trusted his expertise. This time, Eddie wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. And this time when Steve greeted him in a half open robe, it was on purpose.

[jyoongim]

Your hate fuck fic was absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS. Anything else with that mean ole’ radio demon degrading the reader would be greatly appreciated 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ maybe like the reader was angels friend- it’s a given she’s well versed in sex n such but has given up that life and he’s determined to see just what made her so popular 👹

themes: 18+! Fem!reader, creampies, fingering, begging, retired pornstar? Nudity, implied drunk sex (reader goes get sober), kissing, dick-riding, blowjob, long tongue, implied pussyeating,

Alastor x retired!pornstar reader

When you came to the hotel you were rather embarrassed to show up looking a hot mess, but regardless Charlie took you in.

You smiled when you saw a familiar face, Angel. Th two of you worked under Valentino until you ‘retired’.

“Toots here was the best in the business! She always knew how to bring in the big bucks” Angel had said during your introduction to the others, causing Husker to groan at the thought of another Angel in their midst and the others to be surprised. You really didn’t match the description.

You were the epitome of sex appeal before calling it quits. But the industry wasn’t like it use to be and Val wanted you to be more…willing to venture out of your comfort zone.

You weren’t really a pornstar per say, but you knew how to get the job done.

But you wanted to turn a new leaf. You ditched the tight and revealing outfits for more loose and modest clothing. It felt good to be your actual self.

But that didn’t mean that your sexual appetite just disappeared.

Alastor was the first to notice when you ditched the slutty attire to more conservative wears. You carried yourself like a well-mannered lady, but he always saw how you looked at him.

So he took it upon himself to see just how far you go when you couldnt contain your desires any longer.

You had been drinking with Angel, discussing how dumb Val’s scripts were and wondering how people enjoyed horribly written porn plots.

Angel had passed out on the couch and you stumbled your way to your room.

You giggled as you crashed into stuff and sighed in relief when you found what you thought was your bedroom.

You began undressing and in your drunken state, you caught sight of a full mirror. You took in your form and admired how you looked.

maybe you should have dibbled into porn. Your body was killer.

You pitted around to try and find a nightie for bed, but frowned as you came up empty.

”What are you doing in my room my Dear?” A voice asked, causing you to yelp and turn around to fins Alastor standing in the door.

You blinked slowly “y-your room? no this is…” you finally took in your surroundings and realized that you were indeed NOT in your room.

Instead, it was Alastor’s room.

You rubbed your neck, embarrassed “O-oh I’m sorry Alastor” you staggered to the door and went to move past him, but he shut the door.

”now now my dear a lady shouldn’t be walking the halls in your state, why dont you rest here for a while” his smile wide.

It had to be the alcohol in your system, because you smiled back and leaned your body into his, arms circling his neck “Oh Alastor youre so kind”

You had completely forgot you were practically naked.

Now that you were up close, you took in his features.

Angel was right. He was hot.

You always had thought Alastor was attractive. He oozed dominance and carried himself with such a prideful way.

You oftened imagined him having his way with you at night, resulting in many panties needing to be changed in the morning.

”something the matter my dear?” Alastor asked as he saw you stared at him, cheeks turning a rosy pink.

”H-has anyone every told you that you’re sexy?”

Alastor blinked and let out a laugh

”Oh my dear! Please this is Hell, I hear a lot of things. That pesky spider is always making depraved jokes of a sexual nature”

He grimaced with a shudder

You frowned ”then what about me?” You asked softly.

 You suddenly became aware that you were in the nude…in alastor’s room…and he was just conversing like he hadn’t noticed.

He tilted his head, grinning at the pout on your lip

“What about you my dear?”

”You have the best piece of ass that ever graced the pentagram and you’re doing nothing. I’ve had guys kill to get this close to me” 

That liquid courage must have been working double in your system, because you nuzzled your nose under his jaw, whining “Don’t you want to touch me?”

Alastor hummed as you trailed your lips up his neck

what a tempting little thing you were

”why don’t you show me what makes you the best doll?”

You had sobered up after the second orgasm.

Alastor had made you cum by his fingers and mouth. The tongue on that one

You were currently bobbing your head p and down on his cock. Eyes locked on his glowing red eyes as you deep throated him. Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you sucked to your heart content.

You released him with a pop, keeping your tongue wrapped around his length. Happpy with your work you let him go and turned your attention to his balls.

Back in your hay day, you would have never let a man get this far with you, but you wanted this. You wanted to treat Alastor to what made you so appealing.

You climbed your way back onto his lap, slamming your lips on his as you Lined him up to your entrance.

Fuck you were soaking.

A throaty whine escaped you as you lowered yourself on his cock

Alastor’s hands found purchase on your plush ass, helping you set a steady pace.

You were riding him like you’ll never get this chance again.

His cock felt so good. Hitting spots that had you mewling in his mouth.

You were sure his cock was coated white with how soppy your cunt was.

Breaking from his mouth, you moaned as he thrusted up into you, meeting your downward thrust. You were about to cum again. That sweet tingle shot through your core as you bounced on him.

”A-Alastor! Ah! P-please…I-I’m I’m gonna cum” you moaned quickening your pace.

You leaned back, one hand bracing his thigh, the other found your clit and you rubbed tight, fast circles as you rode him.

Alastor watched as you fell apart on his cock, he sped up his thrusts and growled when your cunt started to squeeze him.

”Go on dear. Cum. I want to feel that cunt cum on my cock.”

you whimpered, throwing your head back, a silent scream on your lips as your orgasm ripped through you.

Alastor braced your hips and rutted into you until he tensed; spilling his cum deep into your cunt.

You collapsed into his chest, grinning on him to ride out your orgasm.

panting, you sighed as he peppered your shoulder and neck with kisses.

”Finest cunt to grace Hell indeed my dear”

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hobie Brown, Emotional Preparation, and the Art of Great Dialogue

Nearly all of Hobie's dialogue is written with his goal - protecting and preparing Miles for Miguel's abuse - in mind, even if it may not be obvious at first watch.

Here's an unhinged breakdown where I over-analyze literally every one of Hobie’s lines and explain how every sentence was written to contribute directly to Miles’ radicalization.

Hollywood. Pay your writers. (:

___________________________________________________

Hobie has around 10 minutes screentime total, but for the sake of introductions and this analysis, let's start at the end of the battle, and the beginning of the quantum hole.

Starting with his first line in the scene:

"I don't follow orders. Neither does he."

All morals considered, Hobie doesn't seem like the type to speak for someone who can speak for themselves - he's a punk after all. But here, he speaks for Miles. This line serves to tell Miles 'I don't respect them, why should you?', but funnily enough, it can also be a point to Jess, as if to say 'Miles isn't interested.' - even if he is.

"Bit much, innit?"

While, Hobie and Mile's next interaction is their exchange in the elevator, the scene leads to Mile's introduction to the Society. Miles gawks at the lobby, obviously impressed. Gwen affirms this awe, telling him 'this is just the lobby.' However, Hobie feels the need to chime in. His next dialogue 'Bit much, innit?' is a subtle nudge to Miles that the society is not a place to be in awe off. It's a spectacle, one that's a bit overdone. Knowing Miles now sees Hobie as cool, Hobie makes it known - he sees the Society as uncool.

"Gwendy, How much have you told him? About his place in all this? Maybe not enough."

'So what happened about that small elite strike-team?' - 'Most of these are part time.' This is by far one of Hobie's more interesting lines, and I wrote about it here. But in short, this is Hobie's soft but direct confrontation of Gwen. After Gwen lies to Miles in front of him, Hobie immediately asks how much Gwen has revealed to him. And when she tries to play it off, he openly says 'Maybe that's not enough.' He's not angry with Gwen, but he is disappointed, which in turn motivates him to have his discussion with Miles.

"Super humane, and not creepy."

One of my favorites, because it's hard to catch and to the point. After talking about Hobie and Gwen's mission history, they're taken to Margo and the control room. As Miles marvels at Margo and the Go-Home-Machine, and Gwen says she voted against it. However, Hobie says blatantly: 'Holy shit, Miles isn't this inhumane and weird???', validating that the Society is willing to do inhumane, hurtful stuff to those it deems 'misplaced'.

Next comes Hobie's confrontation with Miles.

Because Hobie knows this is his last movements with Miles before he meets Miguel, and this is where if final push of emotional support kicks in, before he goes quiet in front of Miguel.

And because this conversation is so well layered, I think it's best to go line by line. ______________________________

H: "Bet this doesn't even do anything." M: "Maybe it did before you ripped it out of a wall!"

Hobie has now confirmed that he'll be making an exit soon. And he begins his finally sweep of parts he needs for his watch, stocking up his pockets. He's not stealing to steal. He knows he's leaving and this is his last chance to get what he needs before he's out the door.

"Propaganda, bro! It's to distract you from the truth!"

HOLY SHIT I missed this one. Notice how in this shot, Gwen is not visible at all. Hobie notices they're out of hershot of her for the first time. And his first line is - 'Propaganda.' Their watches can take them anywhere. When Gwen needed to, she was taken to exactly where she needed in Mumbattan. But when they're heading towards HQ, Jessica makes them walk through the lobby. They could have been sent directly to Miguel's station, but instead she makes them do the whole tour, which serves as a flex of muscle. In order, Miles was shown the massive number of members in the Society, then their prisoners, then the go-home-machine. Only THEN can they see Miguel. All of which was intent to intimidate Miles on purpose. Hobie tells him directly: 'Everything you just saw was propaganda.'

M: And what's that?

"I ain't got a Scooby Doo, mate. Cause that's what they want."

One of the most iconic and notable of his quotes. Cockney aside, this line ties back in with his discussion with Gwen just a couple minutes before. They've done their tour and walk. Both Jess and Gwen have been given a chance to prime or explain to Miles anything, and both have chosen not to. So Hobie simply tells him, 'They want you in the dark. And they're sending you into a fight.'

The next line is:

H: Why do you want to be part of this lot? M: To get a watch. H: Make your own watch.

Miles sucks his teeth at Hobie.

Because of this - Hobie begins to change methods. Which I cannot stress is incredibly perceptive of him.

Miles is exasperated with him. So instead of dissuasion and making the society out to be uncool, he tries to turn Miles' attention towards his family.

"Bet you got a nice setup, huh? Nice parents?"

This line is a very well done one, with two things of notice. First, I find it interesting that the screenplay phrases this line as a question, not a sentence. Hobie is asking. He's taking a shot in the dark here. And this is backed up by his delivery; Hobie hesitates while saying this. The only line in which he does so. He may not know about Miles' mom and dad, because Gwen hadn't met them when she met Hobie. But still, Hobie asks, hoping the reminder of Miles' parents will dissuade him from continuing.

M: They're fine. H: [After this line, Hobie turns black and white momentarily. Potentially a nod to the fact that this conversation is the only 'black and white' one Miles has had so far.] M: But we got into a fight. They just want what's best for me, so...

[Hobie frowns. The scene and dialogue REALLY starts to pick-up from here.]

"That's a bloody shame. Because you're not ready for everyone else."

As the scene progresses Hobie goes from behind Miles, to beside him like an ally. Then, when Gwen finally comes back into frame, Hobie crosses in front of him. When Miles mentions his parents wanting what's best for him, Hobie warns that everyone else does not want what's best for him. At the same time, visually Gwen has her back to Miles, and Hobie puts himself between Miles and Gwen, trying to block his path. The scene is set up to show that in Hobie's eyes, Gwen is turning her back on Miles. She does not have his best interest in mind. Hobie is telling Miles 'They're using propaganda on you, they're keeping you in the dark, and they do not have your best interest at mind. You're not ready for this." And he physically tries to block Miles from continuing, one last time.

Miles goes through Hobie, and now within earshot of Gwen again, this is Hobie's final chance and push to get as much information into Miles as he can - without freaking Miles out. Above all else, he needs Miles to be prepared, confident, and willing to fight back.

His voice becomes more serious, and he starts speaking more straight-forward and a lot less cryptically.

"Listen to me, bruv. The whole point of being Spider-man is your independence. Being your own boss, you don't need all this!"

I think Hobie saying this reveals a lot about his character, especially understanding the context where he's from. While many Spider-men would agree that being Spider-man is about responsibility and power - to Hobie, it is about independence, and freedom. Hobie is a freedom fighter, and one of the only Spider-men besides Noir that knows how to fight systemic threats as well as physical ones. To him, being Spiderman is about being able to free yourself and others. It's about independence and freedom, and he's trying to nail that in Miles' head one last time.

M: Then why are you here?

"Looking out for my drummer, is all."

As the scene is coming to a close, the writers chose this time to reveal some of Hobie's motivations, starting with the independence comment, and now this. Despite knowing about Gwen's deception towards Miles, he is still looking out for her - and Miles. This is the writers' and Hobie's last push to solidify himself as an ally to Miles and the viewer.

M: I want to be in a band. I want to see my friends, and I need a watch to do that. G: Guys, come on.

"Alright, Squashed. Just don't enlist until you know about who you're fighting."

I genuinely had to sit and ask myself why the writers would choose to leave Hobie's collective effort - a LOT of effort - with this line. And honestly, I think it's a perfect segway. Hobie chooses his words very clearly; He doesn't say 'what', he says 'who'. The next scene leads into Miguel's intro, and up until this point, Miles doesn't know who he is. He only knows about the Society, but never who is at the top. We know about Miguel, but all Miles knows is his name. That's why Hobie says 'who you're fighting'. Because the Society isn't really a Society, and this isn't really between Miles and the Society at all. It's a dictatorship - and the person he's enlisting to fight is Miguel. The perfect introduction and warning to the person he's about to meet. He's telling Miles, 'Don't rush into it. Wait until you meet Miguel first'. And when Miles does meet Miguel, he finally sees that this isn't the place he thought it was, just like Hobie said. ALSO EVEN MORE INTERESTINGLY - THIS is one of the lines that is changed between the two versions of spiderverse (there are two theatrical versions on release.) In the alternative he says 'Don't enlist unless you know what war you're fighting.' And I think that the fact the writers chose to publish two different versions of this line goes to show how powerful they knew this line would be in Miles' characterization. There is so much Hobie has left to say to him, but only one line - and so we get two versions. How fun!

With the scene now over, we see a change in Hobie's demeanor, and I love the writers' choice to have the shot linger on Hobie.

We see him give Miles a look that isn't exactly full of confidence, but from this point forward, Hobie chooses to hang back, no longer having any motivation to instigate. He knows his work here is done, and now all he can really do is wait for Miguel to reveal his true colors, and hope that he got through enough to Miles that he will react, and fight back.

And closing out the scene - I noticed that when Peter B. arrives Hobie pointedly says

"Oh boy, Humbling Reality Spider-man has arrived."

All I'll say about this is Hobie has to be Jamaican cause that was so mfing rude shgjfkghjgjkdfjk

Hobie has about three lines between this point and then end of his screentime - Two of which were his lines to Mayday, and his comment during the canon events.

But there is one shot of him before it all happens. And after this shot the movie begins staging Hobie in specific a very different way than anyone else.

The moment begins with Miles' line 'My Dad is about to be captain.'

The camera pans to each character. Gwen, Peter, and Jess all avert their eyes. Miguel looks at Miles. And Hobie is the only one who looks at all of them. Instead of looking down, he looks to the others, in anticipation of whats going to happen. It's also important to note that this was probably news to Hobie. He probably didn't know Miles' dad was a cop - or at the very least going to be captain. So the understanding of just how much trouble Miles is in kinda multiplies in this moment.

Then, this happens

From this point forward, every time Hobie is portrayed, he is shown as separate from the other characters, always being divided from the group - with Miles as the divider. Even as the camera moves, Hobie visually remains - quite literally - as the only person in Miles' corner. And as the scene goes on, he moves farther and farther into that corner.

Until finally the scene comes to a climax, and Hobie gets two shots to himself - delivering his final lines.

"Here we go." - "Hobie, You're not helping." - "Good."

GUYS IM GONNA CRY OKAY IM GONNA CRY

This is Hobie seeing his work pay off. This is him knowing that he got through to Miles and that it was worth it. He's proud of him.

Hobie knew what he came to do, and he used literally every line he said to Miles to the FULLEST extent. He doesn't give a fuck if he's not helping the Society. He's helping Miles. And now he knows his work is done.

Being a punk is not about being a hero, it's about empowering those who feel powerless. HE UNDERSTOOD THE MOTHERFUCKING ASSIGNMENT.

IN SHORT - HOLLYWOOD PAY YOUR FUCKING WRITERS I SWEAR TO GOD.

if you read this far let me know :) thanks bye

[greynatomy]

maybe this time

alessia russo x reader

i haven’t written in a few weeks, but i couldn’t get this song/idea out of my head

inspired by : maybe this time - sarah geronimo

———

Running out the door, paper in hand, she made her way to another house, obnoxiously knocking on the door. Getting impatient, she knocks a bit louder, the door opening seconds later.

“Hi! Bye!” She greets the woman, running past her and up the stairs, barging into a room like she owned it.

“Woah, Alessia! You can’t just come in without knocking! What if I was naked?”

“Oh, please. You’re acting like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Your mouth opens and closes, speechless. “That was because you barged into my room! Like right now!”

“Anyway, guess what I got?”

“What is it?”

“You’re looking at the Tar Heel’s newest football player!”

“Tar Heel? What’s that?” You’ve not heard of a team called the Tar Heels in your neighborhood.

“It’s the school I applied for in the states and got  a full scholarship!”

“The states?”

“Did I not tell you? I applied for a school in North Carolina and I got in! Isn’t that just amazing?”

“Oh. When do you leave?”

“In a month.”

A month.

The weeks leading up to Alessia leaving home went differently than what she thought it would be. Normally being attached to one another, you were distant and she didn’t know why.

Sitting at the table, eating dinner with her parents, her mum speaks up.

“Are you sure you want to go all the way to North Carolina honey?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What about Y/N?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What about her?”

“How did she take the news?”

“Pretty well I’d say.”

“Really?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering cause you’ve both been talking about going to Uni together, living on your own together, but now she’s staying here and you’re going away.”

Alessia didn’t say a word the rest of the dinner, her mind occupied on thoughts about you.

‘Was that why you’ve been distant?’ She thought.

A week before she had to leave, you’re stood outside her house and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door opens, revealing Alessia.

“Hi.”

She looked shocked to see you. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know if you want to go on a walk with me?” Nodding, she puts her shoes on and follows you out. “I wanted to apologize. I haven’t been fair and started ignoring you. I just didn’t know what to think.”

“I should apologize too. I should’ve told you I was applying for schools out of the country.”

You both make it to the park, sitting on a bench facing the playground.

“Yeah. I don’t know when you decided on that because all our lives we’ve talked about going to University together, living together and all that stuff, but if you think it’s the right decision for you then I am okay with it.”

“I know it’s the right decision for me and I am sorry for leaving you here.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re all famous.” You nudge your shoulder into her’s. “I’ll text you everyday.”

“And I will do the same.”

You were back to being inseparable the whole week. Making up for lost times and the times you won’t have for a while in the future.

The week goes by fast. Here you are, standing at the airport, by her gate, watching Alessia embrace her family goodbye. Letting go of her dad, she turns to face you. 

Her best friend. Her almost something.

She approached you, dragging her suitcases behind her, eyes locked on yours with a mix of sadness and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“So,” she started, her voice soft, “this is it.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah,” you managed to say, throat tight. “I guess it is.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, silence heavy between you, filled with the unspoken words, the missed opportunities, the what-ifs. You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, your touch lingering more than it should.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alessia tried to smile, but it wavered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’ll miss you too,” she replied, and it was the understatement of the century. She would miss everything about you—your laugh, the way you always knew how to make her smile, the way you looked at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. She was.

Alessia took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Y/N, I—” she started, but the announcement for her flight cut her off. You both jumped slightly, reality crashing down around you.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Timing, huh?”

Alessia nodded, biting her lip. “Always perfect.”

You pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapping around her like they never wanted to let go. She buried her face in your chest, breathing the familiar scent of you, trying to memorize it, to hold onto it.

“Keep in touch?” you murmured into her hair, still holding her close.

“Of course,” she said, voice muffled into your jacket. “But it won’t be the same.”

“No,” you agreed, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It won’t.”

You stood there for a moment, faces inches apart, the world around them blurring into nothingness. Your gaze dropped to her lips, and for a second, she thought—hoped—you might close the distance.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gentle, lingering touch that said all the things you couldn’t.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, though they both knew that “soon” was an unknown promise.

Alessia nodded, blinking back tears as you pulled away completely. You watched as she turned and headed toward the gate, every step taking her further from you. You wanted to call out to her, to ask her to stay, to tell her how you really felt—but the words lodged in your throat, too heavy to speak.

And then, just before she disappeared through the gate, she turned around one last time. Their eyes met across the distance, and in that moment, Alessia knew that things would never be the same.

But at least, she thought as you gave her a small, sad smile, they had this. This moment. This goodbye.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

As Alessia boarded his plane, you stood there, rooted to the spot, watching until the plane disappeared into the clouds. you finally let the tears fall, feeling the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

Maybe someday, you’d find the courage to tell her. But for now, you whispered your feelings into the empty space where she used to be, hoping that somehow, she could still hear them.

“I love you, Alessia. I always have.”

But the words came too late, carried away by the winds of time and distance.

And as you walked away from the gate, you felt the emptiness left behind by the goodbye that wasn’t quite enough, and the love that was never quite spoken.

You felt a presence behind you, a hind coming to rest on the back of your neck, gripping tightly.

“You’ll see her again soon,” it was Alessia’s dad making a promise you didn’t want to hear. “This isn’t goodbye.

Holding back tears, he pulled you close, walking back to the car park, trying to forget the words that went unspoken.

—

Practice just ended and Alessia was sitting on the grass with Lotte and Emily taking her boots off.

“Have you’ve read the news lately?” Lotte asked the two.

“No, why? What’s happening?”

“There’s this virus going around and we might have to go on lockdown.”

“What about football? Are we still able to play if we do go into lockdown?”

“That’s also unknown. Everything is crazy right now.”

Not even a few days later they get an email from the athletics department stating a cancellation of the sports currently in season, which unfortunately for Alessia, was her sport. 

Thankfully she had a backup plan just in case.

Grabbing her phone, she dials a number, waiting for the person on the other side to pickup.

“Mum,” she started, packing the last of her clothes in her suitcase, “I’m coming home.”

—

Alessia Russo stepped off the plane, her heart racing with a mixt of excitement and nerves. It had been three years since she’d left home for her scholarship in North Carolina. Three years since she had seen her family, her friends, and the person she thought about almost every day since she left.

The familiar chill of the English air greeted her as she exited airport. Her brother was waiting at the gate, waving enthusiastically. She hugged him tightly, comforted by his familiar scents and warmth. It felt good to be home.

The drive to her childhood home was filled with chatter about her time in America, her football team’s victories, and the memories they had missed sharing. But even as Alessia laughed and talked, her thoughts kept drifting to one person—Y/N.

You’ve had been her best friend, her confidant, and her first love. You both had spent countless hours together before she left, and parting had been harder than anything she had ever done. She had promised to keep in touch, and they did for a while. But life had a way of pulling them in different directions. Football was taking up all her time, throw in a few of her classes, she felt like she didn’t have time for anything. She didn’t mean to do it on purpose, as time went on, the calls became less frequent, the messages shorter, until one day, they simply stopped.

Alessia’s parents had thrown a welcome home dinner for her, and she was eager to see everyone again, but mostly she was eager to see you. She had imagined what it would be like a thousand times—how you would look, what she would say to you. She wondered if you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

The dinner was in full swing by the time they arrived. The house was filled with the laughter of her parents, aunts and uncles, the clinking of glasses, and the scent of home-cooked food. Alessia was enveloped in hugs and well-wishes, but as she scanned the room, she realized that you wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked her mum.

She exchanged a quick glance around before looking away, something unspoken passing between them. “I… I haven’t seen her in a while, Less.”

Alessia’s heart sank, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, okay. Maybe she’ll come by later,” she said, trying to sound hopeful.

As the night went on, Alessia tried to enjoy herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her parents eventually pulled her aside into the quiet of the living room.

“Alessia,” her mother began, her voice soft, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Her father cleared his throat, his expression solemn. “Y/N isn’t coming tonight, love.”

“Why not?” Alessia asked, her voice trembling.

“They… they enlisted in the navy a year ago,” her mother explained, her eyes filled with concern. “She’s deployed now.”

Alessia felt like the ground had shifted beneath her. You had enlisted? The Y/N who hated violence, who always dreamed of traveling the world, who said they wanted to make a difference in a different way? It didn’t make sense.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We didn’t want to worry you while you were so far away,” her father said gently. “And Y/N didn’t want to burden you with it. They wanted you to focus on football and your future.”

Tears welled up in Alessia’s eyes. She had come back expecting to pick up where they left off, but now… now everything had changed.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Her parents exchanged a glance. “We don’t know the exact details, but they’re safe. They’re doing important work.”

Alessia nodded, though her heart was breaking. She had imagined so many different scenarios for this moment, but this… this wasn’t one of them.

She excused herself from the room, retreating to her old bedroom. Everything was just as she had left it, but it didn’t feel the same. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking out the window at the darkened sky. Somewhere, you were out there, and she couldn’t reach you.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through their old messages, the ones she hadn’t been able to delete. A tear slipped down her cheek as she re-read your last text from months ago: “Take care, Lessi. I’ll always be with you, no matter where life takes us.”

She didn’t get to reply back, not even noticing that you’d texted her and that being the last text you had sent. In a way, it was you saying goodbye, not knowing how long you’d be gone for.

Alessia held the phone to her chest, closing her eyes. She didnt regret many things, but pulling away from you was her biggest regret, wishing she could turn back time and not let things get in the way, no matter how important it was because to her, you were most important.

—

Alessia went to play for Manchester United with little to no crowds, but she loved it. She knew she made the right decision for her career coming back home early, but there was always a you sized hole in her heart.

These are milestones she wished that you were here for, but she can only blame herself for it.

A few years playing in Manchester, Alessia got an opportunity she couldn’t turn down and here she was in London, having unpacked her things from the countless boxes littered throughout the apartment.

Needing a break from all the unpacking, Alessia decided to take a walk through her neighborhood, through London to familiarize herself to her home the next couple of years. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. This has always been her favorite time of the day, but it somehow felt bittersweet. There was something in the air— a nostalgic feeling that tugged at her heart in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She walked by countless people, not giving them any mind. It was crowded, people bumping into her left and right until one person’s scent filled the air around her. 

It smelled like home.

Quickly turning around, Alessia tries to find that familiarity, lightly pushing people away who blocked her path. She was lost, head swiveling around, hoping to find -what- who she needed, when she lays her eyes on the bridge. 

A loner figure leaning against it, staring out, back to Alessia. It was you. Still dressed in uniform, clean and crisp, contrasting the setting sun. Your once long hair was now cut short, looking more mature, more grounded. But even from behind, Alessia would recognize you anywhere. The way you held yourself with quiet confidence—it was unmistakable.

For a moment, Alessia felt like she was eighteen again, in the airport, walking away from you, unknowingly being the last time she’d ever see you, ‘til right now. She remembered the way her heart ached, the way she held her tears from falling down her face, wishing she would’ve turned back around and ran into your arms, and say that she wasn’t leaving after all.

But Alessia didn’t turn back. She kept walking, disappearing into the unknown future that didn’t include you.

Alessia’s feet moved on their own, carrying her closer to you, until she was just a few steps away. Her heart pounded in her chest, anxiety and anticipation radiated off her body. It’s been so long. Would you even recognize her? Would you care?

“Y/N?” She called out. Her voice was soft, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, but you heard it. She saw you body stiffen, almost scared to turn around, but you did, as if not daring to believe your ears.

When your eyes met, it was like time stood still. Your face was a mix of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. Alessia felt a lump form in her throat, feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotions.

“Alessia,” You said, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, as if you’re trying to figure out of your eyes were playing tricks on you. “It’s-it’s you.”

“Yeah. It’s me. And it’s you.”

You took and step closer, your gaze sweeping over Alessia’s face, taking in every detail as if you were trying to make up for the years you had lost. “You look… you look good,” you stated, a soft smile tugging at your lips. It was the same smile that made Alessia’s heart skip a beat, and she felt it happen again now, after all this time.

“So do you,” Alessia replied, voice trembling slightly. “You look… different. Older. But still you.”

You chuckled. There goes Alessia’s heart again. 

“I guess the navy will do that to you. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Way too long.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with all the words that were left unsaid over the years. You wanted to say so much, to ask why she stoped replying to your messages, declining all your calls, but most importantly, to say that you missed her. But the words were stuck in your throat, too heavy to push past.

Alessia seemed to sense this, because she took another step forward, closing the distance in between. “Y/N,” she said softly, yourself melting from the way she said your name. “I-I never meant to disappear like that. I thought about you all the time, but… I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” You asked, voice cracking as you were finally able to ask the question that haunted you for so long.

“Of what I felt. So I distracted myself with more work, more football to block everything out,” Alessia admitted, not being able to look you in the eyes. “That you’d forgotten about me. I thought… maybe if I pulled away first, it would be easier to face you when I’d find out that you had moved on.”

Alessia felt a tear slip down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, but not before you noticed. Your expression softened, and you reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing the back of your fingers against Alessia’s cheek. She melted at you touch.

“I never forgot you,” You said, voice choked with emotion. “How could I?”

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to-to ignore you. I should’ve communicated better. I should’ve been braver. I…I—”

“—Hey, hey.” You interrupted her rambling:

“I was a coward.”

“No!” You gently, but firmly, grabbed her face with both your hands, pulling her close and forcing her to look into your eyes. “You are not a coward,” Your voice soft. “You were just afraid and that’s okay.”

“But I lost you even when I was trying to prevent that from ever happening.”

“Who said you lost me? Cause you haven’t.”

“You joined the navy when you had never mentioned being interested it it at all!”

“That’s not on you. That was all me. No matter how pathetic it sounds, I couldn’t go through with going to Uni without you when it was our-my dream to experience it with you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I forgive you even if you have nothing to apologize for. I mean look at you now,” You step back, gesturing your hands as if to present her, “Alessia Russo, European champion and back heel queen.”

“Stop it.” Alessia covers her face, not wanting you to see it reddening.

You hold your hand out towards her, hoping she gets the hint. Fortunately for you, she does. holding her hand, you lead her away from the bridge. 

“You know,” you started, leading her to a nice path with less people, “you didn’t leave me behind, no matter what you think. You were always with me, in here.” You placed your free hand over your heart, your gaze locked with Alessia’s.

Alessia looked at you for a moment, as if she was searching something in your eyes. And then, slowly, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. “Maybe this time… maybe we can finally get it right.”

You felt a warmth spread throughout your body at her words. “No more beating around the bush?”

“No,” Alessia answered, voice soft. She closed her eyes when she saw your face leaning more towards her’s. “I don’t want to let you go, not when we’ve been given a second chance.”

You felt your heart swell with hope, nodding, her smile widens. “Then let’s give this a go. Let’s see where this takes us.”

You led her away again, talking as you walked, catching up on everything that you missed in each other’s lives. You told her about your time in the navy, the places you had seen, the people you had met. And Alessia shared her own stories, how America was, her football career, the friends she made.

All the walking and talking, Alessia hadn’t noticed that she led you all the way to her apartment.

“Oh,” Alessia’s lips turned to a frown, realizing her time with you has come to and end. “I guess this is me.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for tonight,” Alessia said softly, voice tinged with a bittersweet note that tugged at your heart. Her blue eyes met your brown ones, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking out late at night to watch the stars .

“Yeah, it was… amazing,” You replied, shoving your hands in your pocket. You didn’t want to leave. 

Alessia turns to look at you, her face turning serious. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I want you to try. I want to be in your life’s If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you. I want that too and everything more. I am yours Alessia. I always have been.” Silence filled the air around you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence filled with comfort. 

“It’s late,” Lesia broke the silence, hands fiddling with her keys. “You should probably go.”

“I should,” You replied, but instead of leaving, you stepped closer to her, leaving no space in between.

The air between the both of you changed, and before she could think, before any doubt creeps in her head, you leaned in. Your lips hovered just above hers, giving her a chance to pull away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

You closed the gap, a gasp makes its way out of her mouth. Her arms make their way around your neck, pulling you closer. This first kiss tentative, almost fragile, as if afraid that one wrong move would break the moment. The kiss was deepened, pouring every missed opportunity, every hidden feeling into it. 

When you finally broke apart, breathless and hearts racing, you rested your foreheads together, the weight of your shared history and newfound hope settling around them. 

“We should’ve done that ages ago,” Alessia said with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, thumbs brushing across her cheeks. “But I think now was the right time.”

Alessia bit her bottom lip, hesitant to say what she wants to say. “Do you… do you want to come in?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’d like that.”

Walking through the threshold felt like the start of their new lives. Two old friends who met again after years, wearing older faces, finding the love they had from years ago.

And for the first time in a long time, Alessia felt like maybe, just maybe, everything was falling into place. 

[artist-issues]

“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”

Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.

Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.

It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?

But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.

If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.

Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.

Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.

You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.

But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”

Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”

Are we beginning to get the picture?

See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”

He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.

And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”

And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”

And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.

And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.

And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.

White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.

And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”

And you know what?

If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.

But He is NOT.

God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.

Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.

No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”

White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.

Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.

Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?

This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.

That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.

You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.

And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.

White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.

So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Childhood friends to lovers w modern Jace and he’s just really protective over you. When they go out to a party, he’s just begging you to not start anything with any guys, and he’s lowkey mad at you for wearing something revealing. You end up really drunk to the point where Jace has to take you home and you’re just rlly touchy and bold, confessing things you would never say if you sober. And he’s just being flirty back and teasing you abt the stuff you’re saying about him. Idek where this is going but like eventual smut. 😩 Ty, your works are so good.

I love college modern!Jace. To my eyes, he is always part of the hockey team and friends with Cregan. This is how I see modern!Jace

Sorry, I didn't do smut because consent when drunk is not valid consent (you know what I mean?) but everything else is checked!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Jace sat on your bed as you finished getting ready in your bathroom. He played with the ears of your purple giraffe plushie, smiling when he saw the friendship bracelet still tied to its neck. 

‘’Do you know if Jason is gonna be there tonight?’’ 

‘’Lannister?’’ 

You hummed and Jace grimaced. 

‘’He’s a fucking asshole and only want you for sex. Don’t talk to him. Okay?’’ 

You rolled your eyes in the mirror, tired of Jace disapproving of every guy you talked to. He wasn't trying to make all guys seem bad; he just knew them and their intentions better than you. He was looking out for you.

And you trusted his judgment. 

‘’Yes, dad,’’ you replied sarcastically as you came out of the bathroom. 

Jace’s head lifted when you came into view, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the top you were wearing. To his eyes, this was a bra — with a longer bodice. While you looked really good in it, guys at the party will think the same and oggle you in ways that would make Jace want to punch them.

‘’Eh, is there a second shirt that goes over this one?’’ 

You frowned at his question. ‘’No. Why? What’s wrong with my shirt?’’ 

Jace took a few seconds to think of a way of saying that your shirt was showing a lot without sounding like he was calling you slutty. ‘’Aren’t you gonna get cold? It’s nearly November.’’

You shrugged, grabbing your phone and dorm keys. ‘’I’m fine. You always give me your jacket when I get cold.’’ 

‘’Right. But maybe you should take a jacket with you? In case I’m not available to give you mine.’’ 

‘’Not available?’’ Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. ‘’Jacaerys Velaryon, are you planning on leaving with a girl tonight?’’ you teased, poking at his chest. You’ve seen him kissing girls at parties, but he never left with any of them. 

He ignored your question, clearly not wanting to discuss his romantic life. ‘’Let’s go. Cregan is already on his third beer. I need to get my revenge on air hockey before he gets too drunk.’’ 

You laughed, slipping your phone into your small purse. ‘’Can I play too?’’ 

‘’We’ll see,’’ Jace said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of your dorm. 

It’s not that he didn’t want you to play. You’ve played with the boys before. It’s just that your shirt was not ideal for playing air hockey. If you leaned on the table, everything would be exposed and he didn’t like the idea of his friends looking at your tits. 

The music was loud at the frat house, plunging everyone into the ambiance. You were sipping your second drink and dancing with your friends after watching Cregan annihilate Jace at air hockey. Jace seemed distracted, his eyes scanning the room instead of focusing on the game. Maybe he was searching for a girl?

Shaking off the thought, you headed to the kitchen and made yourself another drink. You should be happy if he found someone he liked, but the truth was, you were secretly jealous. He had been your best friend since kindergarten, you should have dibs on him.

You put the caps back on the bottles and reached for your glass, but someone snatched it away.

‘’Hey! Give it back!’’ 

‘’No more drinks for you,’’ Jace said from behind you, pouring the contents of your glass into the sink.

‘’It’s my first drink. Okay, maybe my second…or third.’’ A giggle escaped your lips. You were a lightweight when it came to drinking, a fact you always seemed to forget. ‘’I think I’m a little tipsy.’’

Jace raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ‘’Tipsy?’’ He shook his head and suggested you head home and watch Grey’s Anatomy.  

You pouted, not wanting to leave the party just yet, but the thought of watching Grey's Anatomy with Jace sounded nice. He was always so invested in the episodes and characters, but it was a secret. If his teammates knew, they would never let him live it down.

His arm was around you, leading you out of the frat house and into the cool night air. As you walked back to your dorm, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for Jace’s presence. You didn’t know many guys who would offer to take their drunk friend home without any bad intentions.  

‘’You’re a good person, Jace,’’ you said, his jacket over your shoulders. ‘’Always looking out for me.’’

He chuckled, pulling you closer when a group of drunk guys walked by. ‘’What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?’’

You didn’t respond. 

Once you were at your dorm, you set up your laptop and settled into your small bed. It was a tight fit, but you and Jace made it work. 

The episode started where you left off. 

‘’Who do you think is better? McDreamy or McSteamy?’’ you asked as Derek appeared on the screen. 

‘’I don’t know,’’ Jace responded, lying comfortably against your pillows. ‘’Mark is eye-candy, but I think early seasons McDreamy was peak.’’ 

You nodded, laying your head against Jace’s shoulder. ‘’Same. I have a soft spot for brunets. And curly hair.’’

‘’Derek doesn’t have curly hair…’’ 

‘’But you do and it’s cute.’’ 

‘’You think my hair is cute?’’ Jace repeated, teasing you.

‘’It’s so curly and bouncy. And soft too.’’ You twirled one of Jace’s curly hair around your finger, your fingers lingering as position caused your chest to press slightly against his. ‘’And you smell very good. Except when you play hockey. You’re stinky.’’

Jace laughed, the sound vibrating through your body. ‘’Good to know. I’ll make sure I shower before seeing you.’’ 

You smiled, your fingers still playing with his hair. ‘’You’re so pretty.’’ 

Your last compliment took him by surprise, his cheeks flushing. Had you not been intoxicated on alcohol, tonight would have taken a different turn, but Jace was respectful. He would never make a move without your sober consent.

‘’Eh, thanks. Let's...let's continue watching Greys.’’

—

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[valkyriexo]

Not sure if this is a hurt/comfort request but, I worked out too hard despite my body telling me to stop and ended up throwing up....if y/n did that, bff/bf SKZ would be so upset but probably comfort her right? That's what I'd like to think 🩶

They comfort you when you overwork yourself | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend!OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre;comfort, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; Implied female reader, nausea (not described just mentioned in Bin's and Seungmin's), fainting, mentions of food, mentions of pregnacy, mentions of anxiety, use of petnames.

ᑉ³authors note; I didnt know if you wanted this to be texts or a drabble so i did them as small drabbles/headcannons. i tried to make it short and sweet! Hope you enjoy :)

╰┈➤ Chan

BF!Chan comes home exhausted after a long day of endless schedules and responsibilities. All he wants now is to be home, to find comfort and peace in your arms. As he unlocked the door to your apartment, he expected to be greeted by your familiar sounds of your laughter or the soft hum of music playing in the background. He knows your always home at this time.

But instead, there was silence.

Frowning, Chan steps inside, immediately noticing the unusual quiet. "Y/N?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the stillness. He puts his stuff down, waiting for a response.

When he hears nothing, worry starts to eat at him. Concern grows as he searches the apartment, his heart pounding faster with each empty room. He checks the living room, the kitchen, and finally heads down the hallway. Then he finds you, huddled on the bathroom floor, your body curled in on itself as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Y/N?" Chan's voice is full of concern as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to gently touch your shoulder. "What happened baby? Are you hurt?"

You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, your face contorted in pain. "Chan," you choked out, your voice thick with tears.

Chan's heart races as he cups your face, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "Hey, hey, it's okay baby. It's okay..." he coos. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you in pain?"

You shake your head weakly, trying to find the words. "I'm just... so tired. I pushed myself too hard, I think….."

His worry turns into a mix of panic and frustration. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well? I could have helped you," he says.

"You should have taken it easy." He scolds gently, his love for you clear in his eyes. "Why do you always try to handle everything alone? Ask me to help you. You don't have to do anything by yourself."

You flinch slightly at his words, and he immediately softens, guilt hitting him. "I'm sorry, love. I just... I can't stand seeing you like this."

Chan quickly helps you up, supporting your weight as he guides you to the bedroom. He lays you down gently, covering you with a blanket before sitting beside you, still holding your hand.

You look up at him, tears still in your eyes. "I didn't want to worry you. I thought... I thought I could handle it."

He sighs deeply, brushing your hair back from your face. "Your health is more important than anything baby. Please, promise me you'll take better care of yourself." As he speaks, he intertwines his fingers with yours, gently caressing your hand with his thumb.

You nod weakly, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. "I'm going to get you some water and medicine, yeah? Just rest, baby"

He returns with a tray delicately balanced in his hands, bearing not just water and medicine, but also crackers and a bowl of sliced fruits. Setting it down beside you, he arranges everything with care, making sure it's within your reach.

"Here, my love," he says softly, offering you the water and medicine first. "Take these, they'll help you feel better."

As you take them, he sets aside the tray and pulls off his shirt, revealing the warmth of his skin as he climbs into bed beside you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, ready to snuggle and provide you with the comfort and warmth you deserve.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine tenderness. "Seeing you like this breaks my heart. All I want is for you to be happy and healthy. Please, let me take care of you. I'll do anything to make you feel better."

╰┈➤ Minho

BF!Minho whose heart raced as he practically ran to your apartment, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he approached your door. Without hesitation, he knocked urgently, the sound repeating through the quiet corridor.

You're taken aback by the forcefulness of the knocking, and hurried to open the door. Your eyes widened in surprise as they see Minho standing there, a mixture of relief and concern evident on his face.

"So, it is true. You went home early," he says, his voice filled with worry as he takes in your tired appearance. He steps closer, his hand gently lifting your chin so he can look into your eyes. His touch is gentle yet firm, as if trying to read your emotions and assess your well-being in that moment.

"Are you okay? What happened?" he asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment, but the concern in Minho's eyes prompts you to open up.

"I... I pushed myself too hard," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I got really dizzy during practice, and they sent me home."

Without a word, he steps into your house, causing you to stumble back a little. He turns to face you, his gaze gentle but firm. 

"Y/N," he begins, his voice stern, "I know you're passionate about what you do, but pushing yourself to the point of exhaustion isn't healthy. You need to take better care of yourself."

You lower your gaze, feeling guilty at Minho's gentle scolding.

"But I just wanted to be as good of a dancer as you," you admit softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "I see you always working so hard, and it's like I have to work twice as hard just to be as good as your mark."

Minho's expression softens at your words, his heart sinking lower and lower.

"Oh.. baby.." he says softly. "I never wanted you to feel like you have to measure up to anyone, especially not me. " He pulls you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as if to shield you from any further self-doubt or guilt.

"You know," he continues "I work so hard because I want to impress you, to be someone worthy of your love and admiration. But you, my love, you don't have to do anything. You just breathe, and I'm in awe."

As he holds you close, he brushes his lips against your forehead. "Besides… you're my favorite dancer, and nothing can change that," he murmurs softly.

"I'm sorry if I've ever made you feel like you're not enough," he adds. "Please don't ever feel like you have to prove yourself to anyone, especially not me. You're enough, more than enough, just as you are."

With a gentle smile, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Let me take care of you," he says softly, his voice warm and reassuring. "Why don't you rest while I cook something delicious for you? You deserve to be pampered, my love."

╰┈➤ Changbin

BF!Binnie whose eyes would light up with excitement whenever you mentioned joining him at the gym. He'd practically beam with joy as he eagerly planned out the workout session in his mind.

Eager to impress, you dive headfirst into each exercise, pushing your limits with fervor. Each movement was deliberate, fueled by the desire to match Binnie's pace. With every set, you pushed yourself further, determined to keep up with him. But as the intensity mounted, so did your breathlessness. Your heart raced, and a dizzying sensation began to cloud your focus.

Finally, as you finished another grueling round, he couldn't stay silent any longer.

"Hey, slow down," he said. "You're pushing yourself too hard." With a gentle touch, he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch both comforting and grounding.

Despite his gentle urging, you stubbornly waved off his concern, convinced that you could handle the intensity of the workout. Ignoring the protests of your body, you pushed through each exercise, wanted to impress him and prove him wrong.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, the strain began to take its toll. Your muscles burned with exhaustion, and a dull ache settled in your joints.

Then, without warning, a wave of nausea hit you, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably. With a sudden urgency, you broke away from the workout, stumbling towards the nearest bathroom.

Afterwards, You barely had a moment to collect yourself before you heard Bin's voice outside. "Y/N, are you okay?" he called out anxiously.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as you leaned heavily against the bathroom sink, the cool porcelain providing a small measure of relief against the relentless churning in your stomach.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you managed to call out in a strained voice, "I'm... I'm okay, just... just need a minute." Each word felt like a struggle as you fought to maintain composure in the face of overwhelming nausea.

As the feeling began to subside, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable conversation awaiting you outside the bathroom. With shaky legs, you straightened up, using the sink for support as you prepared to face him.

As you opened the door, you were met with his concerned gaze, his brows furrowed with worry.

"I told you to slow down," he scolded. "Why didn't you listen?"

Your throat tightened with a surge of remorse as you struggled to find the right words. "I... I wanted to keep up with you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I could do it."

Bin's concern deepened at your admission, his eyes searching yours. But as you faltered under his gaze, his scolding took on a more urgent tone.

"What if you got hurt, Y/N?" he pressed, "You can't do that. You can't put yourself at risk like that."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the gym. "I really didn't mean to..."

His expression softened at your apology, his features relaxing as he wrapped his arms gently around you, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, and your shoulders.

"I know you didn't," he murmured, his voice softening as time went on. "But please, don't ever do that again. I'm your boyfriend, Y/N. I'm supposed to protect you, but I can't do that if you don't listen."

Yet, beneath the worry, there was an unmistakable depth of love. His touch was gentle, his presence comforting as he held you close

"I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and okay," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I love you so much, Y/N."

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

BF!Hyunjin who sat inside the dimly lit restaurant, the soft glow of the lights casting shadows across his tense features. He checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, his fingers tapping anxiously against the screen as he scrolled through his messages.

"Where are you?" he texted again, his words tinged with worry. "Are you on your way?"

After what felt like hours he sighed. With a heavy heart, he abandoned his seat at the restaurant and hailed a cab, his mind racing with a million questions and worst-case scenarios.

When he arrived at your doorstep, the knot of worry in his chest tightened. With trembling hands, he knocked on the door, his heart pounding in his ears as he waited for a response.

"Y/N? Are you here?" His voice echoed in the quiet stillness of the night. He knocked again, the sound repeating through the empty hallway. "We were supposed to meet for our date. Did you forget?" he said, his voice full of frustration. "You never forget..."

But there was no answer, only silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Hyunjin pushed open the door, his voice trembling as he called out to you.

"Y/N? Where are you?" Panic began to bubble up inside him as he stepped into the interior of your home. 

And then he saw you, lying on the couch, your face pale and drawn, your body shivering. Relief flooded through him at the sight of you, but it was quickly overshadowed by a surge of concern.

Hyunjin's heart leaped into his throat as he rushed to your side, his hands trembling. "Baby, what's wrong?" he exclaimed. "Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?"

His eyes scanned your pale face, taking in every detail with a frantic intensity. The sight of you lying there, vulnerable and unwell, sent a surge of worry coursing through him, drowning out any other thoughts or concerns.

"I'm sorry about our date," you whispered, your voice filled with remorse. "I didn't mean to ruin it..."

But Hyunjin shook his head, his expression softening with understanding. "Forget about the date," he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm. "What matters is if you're okay."

Hyunjin's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring as he looked into your eyes. With a shaky breath, you met his gaze, a silent plea for forgiveness shining in your eyes.

"I was working out and overdid it," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't listen to my body telling me to stop."

A crease formed between Hyunjin's brows as he absorbed your words, his concern deepening. "You should have known better than to overdo it like this." His tone softened slightly as he continued, "I care about you, Y/N, and seeing you like this worries me."

"Promise me you'll listen to your body next time," he implored. "I can't bear to see you hurting like this again."

"I promise," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. 

With a tender expression, Hyunjin reached out and gently pulled you into his arms. "Come here, my pretty girl," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

He gently wrapped a cozy blanket around the both of you, ensuring that you were snug and warm against the chill of the night. "There, that's better," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

As you nestled closer to him, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you couldn't help but shiver involuntarily, the cold of the night still seeping through despite the blanket.

Feeling you tremble, he tightened his hold around you, his arms a comforting barrier against the chill. "I've got you, baby," he murmured softly, "It's okay, I've got you."

╰┈➤ Han

BF!Han who watched with growing concern as you attempted to eat the food he had brought over, only to see you struggle to keep it down. The worry lines deepened on his forehead as he observed your distress. 

"Y/N, what's happening?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with concern. "You can't keep anything down. Are you feeling sick?"

You shook your head, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. "I don't know, Han," you admitted, feeling defeated. "I've been feeling off lately, but I thought some food might help..... I guess I was wrong."

His brows furrowed with anxiety as he took in your pale complexion and the way you wilted before him, your body clearly unable to keep down even a bite of food. "Are you in pain?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly with worry. "Do you need to see a doctor?"

When you didn't reply, he was even more concerned, his mind racing with worry for your well-being.

After a few moments of tense silence, his concern reached a breaking point, and without thinking, the words spilled out of him in a rush of worry.

"Are you pregnant?" he blurted out, regretting it seconds later.

The shock of his question reverberated through the room, your eyes widening in surprise at his unexpected question. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I... no, Han," you stammered, shaking your head in disbelief. "I'm not pregnant. I just... I've been overworking myself, that's all."

A mixture of relief and embarrassment washed over Han as he realized the gravity of his assumption. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. I just... I'm worried about you, Y/N."

Your heart softened at his genuine concern, and you reached out to gently place a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Hannie," you reassured him, offering a small smile. "Thank you for caring. But I promise, I'm okay. I'll take better care of myself from now on."

As you spoke, Han's concern only deepened, feeling a bit guilty for not being able to ease your discomfort or offer a solution to your distress.

"How can i help you baby?," he asked softly. "Seeing you like this... it hurts, Y/N. I hate feeling so powerless."You could hear the anguish in his voice, and your heart squeezed with empathy.

"Han," you said gently, "you being here for me means more than you know. Sometimes, just knowing that you care is enough."

His eyes met yours. "I do care, Y/N," he whispered, his voice laced with sincerity. "More than anything. I just want you to be okay."

Seeing the exhaustion in your eyes, he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Maybe you should rest," he suggested softly. "I'll make you some tea."

He stood up and tucked the blanket more snugly around you, ensuring you were warm and comfortable. As he moved toward the kitchen, you could hear the quiet clinking of the kettle and the rustle of tea bags, his actions filled with tender care

╰┈➤ Felix

BF!Felix whos heart drops when he receives a text from you saying you wouldn't be able to make it tonight. Felix stared at his phone screen, reading and rereading your message, trying to make sense of it. His mind raced with confusion. He knew how much you had been looking forward to the evening. You had been expressing it to him all week, and now there was a sudden change of plans.

You had been the one eagerly counting down the days until tonight, talking animatedly about the plans and the fun you would have. Felix couldn't understand why you wouldn't want to go now, especially after all the anticipation.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to give you a call, hoping to get some clarity on the situation.

With trembling fingers, he dialed your number, each ring feeling like an eternity as he waited for you to pick up. Finally, on the third ring, he heard your voice on the other end, though it sounded weary and subdued.

"Hey, it's me," Felix said softly, his concern evident in his voice. "I got your message… Is everything okay? I thought you were excited about tonight."

"Yeah, I'm just not feeling well," you explained.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Felix asked gently. There was a hesitant pause on the other end of the line before you responded, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I appreciate it, Felix," you replied softly, your words heavy. "I just... I don't want to ruin everyone's night"

Felix's heart ached at your words, realizing that you were trying to protect him and his friends from whatever was troubling you. He wished he could take away whatever was weighing on your mind and make everything better.

"You could never ruin anything," He reassured you. There was a long pause before you responded, and Felix held his breath, waiting anxiously. "Do you need me to bring you some soup, or maybe some medicine? Is it your head, or...?"

He was desperate to understand, his mind racing through all the possibilities. He couldn't stand the thought of you suffering alone.

Before he could finish his sentence, you interrupted him, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally let your guard down. "I just... I overdid it today," you admitted, the words heavy with exhaustion and regret. "I'm sorry, Felix. I pushed myself too hard, and now I feel terrible."

Felix's heart ached at your confession, and he could hear the strain in your voice. "Oh, Y/N," he murmured softly, his concern deepening. "You should have told me sooner. I would've come to help you. Don't apologize, okay? Just focus on resting. I'll take care of everything."

He paused, then added with a gentle firmness, "I'm coming over with some soup and medicine. And I'm staying to make sure you get some rest. "

There was a hint of surprise in your voice as you responded, "You don't have to do that, Felix. Don’t cancel your plans. I know you were also excited to go."

But Felix wouldn't hear any of it. "I want to be there for you, my love," he insisted. "Nothing is more important to me than you. I'll be there soon."

Before you could protest further, Felix was already making arrangements, his mind set on ensuring you were taken care of. The thought of spending the evening out with friends paled in comparison to the need to be by your side.

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Bf!Seungmin who had been looking forward to his lunch break all morning, eager to spend some time with you and enjoy a meal together. But as he made his way to your workplace with lunch in hand, he was surprised to find your desk empty, your coworkers looking equally puzzled by your absence. Concern gnawed at Seungmin's mind as he approached your manager, hoping to find some answers.

"Excuse me," Seungmin began. "Do you happen to know where Y/N is? I brought her lunch, but she's not at her desk."

The manager's expression shifted as they replied, "I'm sorry, she called in sick today."

Seungmin's heart dropped at the news, his concern for you growing stronger by the second. Without another word, he hastily left the office, determined to find out what was going on.

His footsteps quickened as he rushed to your apartment. With each passing moment, his concern for you only grew stronger, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest.

When he arrived at your apartment, he was met with an empty space, devoid of any signs of your presence. Panic began to set in as Seungmin frantically searched every room, calling out your name in desperation.

But his efforts were in vain, and there was no trace of you to be found.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed your number repeatedly, each call going unanswered. He then decided to reach out to your friends, hoping that someone would have some answers.

One by one, he called each of your closest friends, his voice trembling as he asked if they had seen or heard from you. But each call yielded the same result;

No one knew where you were.

Just as he was starting to lose hope, a familiar voice answered the phone."Seungmin? Is everything okay?" the voice asked, " You dont usually call me."

Seungmin wasted no time in explaining the situation, his words tumbling out in a rush as he desperately sought answers.

"I... I don't know where Y/N is," he admitted. "I went to her work and her apartment, but she's not there. Do you know where she might be?"

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before your friend spoke up.

"I'm so sorry, Seungmin," they said softly. "Y/N was admitted into the hospital last night. She's was really sick."

Seungmin's heart stopped at the news. Without another word, he hung up the phone and rushed to the hospital,

He burst through the hospital doors, his eyes scanning the crowded lobby until they landed on the reception desk. He approached the receptionist, his voice urgent as he demanded to know where you were. The receptionist's expression softened at Seungmin's distress, and they quickly pulled up your information on their computer. With a sympathetic smile, they directed him to the room where you were being treated.

He wasted no time, his heart pounding in his ears as he made his way through the maze of corridors until he finally reached your room. With a deep breath, he pushed open the door, his eyes widening in shock at the sight before him.

There you were, lying in the hospital bed, pale and weak, but still undeniably beautiful. Seungmin's heart clenched at the sight, anger and concern hitting him as he took in your fragile state.

"Y/N, what the hell happened?" Seungmin demanded, his voice full of frustration and fear. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Why did you let me worry like this?" He's fighting the tears from falling form his eyes as he rushed to your side.

"I was so worried," Seungmin confessed, his voice breaking. "I thought... I thought I had lost you. No one knew where you were and i..i-i," he stuttered.

Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, and you reached out to him, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "I'm so sorry, Min," you whispered weakly, your own tears mingling with his.

He held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he buried his face in your hair, breathing in your familiar scent. In that moment, all the anger and fear melted away, leaving only the overwhelming relief of having you safe and sound in his arms.

"I... I overworked myself," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "I pushed myself too hard, and I didn't take care of myself like I should have."

Seungmin listened attentively, his grip on you tightening as he absorbed your words.

"I was so stressed and exhausted," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "I ended up throwing up so much that I fainted, and... I woke up here."

He held you tighter, wanting to protect you from any more pain.

"They're giving me IV fluids and medication, and I already feel much better," you confessed, trying to ease how bad the situation w as. "But I'm so sorry for not telling you. I didn't realize it would worry you this much."

Seungmin's eyes softened as he pulled back to look at you. "Y/N, you never have to apologize for needing help or for being honest with me," he said gently. "I would rather know what you're going through, even if it's difficult, so that I can be there for you."

"I'm just glad you're okay," he continued "I don't ever want to go through something like this again. Please, promise me you'll always tell me when something's wrong."

You nodded against his chest, feeling the weight of his words settle in your heart. "I promise, baby. I'll never keep anything from you again."

╰┈➤ Jeongin

BF!Jeongin who's eyes widen when you text him a list of medications you need while hes out at the store. He immedicantly texts you back, concerned.

"Hey, Y/N," he said, tapping away at his phone, "why do you need all of this stuff? Are you feeling okay?"

Your response was slow to come, and when it did, it was vague and evasive. "I'm just not feeling great. Please, can you just grab everything on the list?"

Jeongin frowned, his worry growing with each passing moment. He knew you well enough to sense when something was off, and he wasn't about to let you brush off your health concerns so easily.

"I'm on my way," Jeongin replied firmly, determined to find out what was wrong.

But not before picking up what you need, of course.

When he arrived at your place, his arms were laden with bags filled with every type of medicine imaginable. He barged through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you sitting on the couch, looking pale and tired.

"Y/N, what's going on?" Jeongin demanded. "Why do you need all of this stuff? Are you okay?"

You tried to brush off his questions with a weak smile, but Jeongin wasn't having any of it. He knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I just feel... nauseous," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel sick."

Jeongin's brows furrowed deeper, his concern intensifying as he listened to your vague explanation. "But why, Y/N? What happened? Was it something you ate? Or do you think it's a stomach bug?"

Your evasion only seemed to frustrate Jeongin further. He had come prepared to help you, but your reluctance to share the full extent of your troubles was testing his patience.

"Y/N, please," Jeongin urged, getting more frustrated by the second. "I need to know what's going on so I can help you. You can't just brush this off like it's nothing."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the weight of Jeongin's worry. You knew he only wanted what was best for you, but the thought of burdening him with your troubles felt overwhelming.

"I... I pushed myself too hard," you finally confessed, your voice barely audible, "and got sick."

"Y/N," he said gently, after a few minutes. "why did you push yourself so hard? You know you don't have to do everything alone, right?"

Tears fell from your eyes as you nodded. You knew he was right, but the pressure to succeed and meet expectations had driven you to ignore your own limits.

Jeongin reached out to gently wipe away your tears. "You don't have to be perfect, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. "and it's okay to ask for help when you need it. That's what I'm here for baby. "

His arms enveloped you with a tenderness that was almost palpable. His touch was gentle, as if he feared even the slightest pressure might cause you discomfort. With infinite care, he cradled you against his chest. Feeling his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but close your eyes, savoring the moment of intimacy shared between you. 

With a soft sigh, Jeongin finally broke away, though his touch remained gentle and reassuring. He reached beside him, grabbing hold of a multitude of bags and packages, their contents carefully chosen with you in mind.

"I brought you this," he said softly, as he began to unpack the items he had brought. "And this... and this... and... well, a lot of things, really."

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of the array of items spread out before you. There were medications and remedies for your illness, carefully chosen to help ease your discomfort. But amidst the practical items, there were also thoughtful additions—a plush teddy bear, your favorite snacks, and a variety of drinks to keep you hydrated.

"Jeongin, you really didn't have to do all this," you murmured.

But Jeongin simply shook his head, his eyes filled with sincerity as he met your gaze. "I did it because I love you, Y/N," he said softly, his voice unwavering. "And I always want to make sure you're okay."

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[loveinhawkins]

Barely ten minutes into the hike from Skull Rock to Lover’s Lake, Dustin heaves a sigh like he’s the most long suffering person in the world to ever exist. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, what?”

“I’m bored.”

“God, you’re such a whiner. No, you—you’re like a little kid on a road trip, like, are we there yet?”

Behind them, Max and Lucas snort in almost perfect unison.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Eddie’s lips twitch into the faint semblance of a smile. It’s very quick, blink and you miss it, before he turns sombre again, looking down at the forest floor. Steve can’t blame the guy; he can’t imagine that he has all that much to smile about.

“I just meant,” Dustin says, “that we could use some entertainment.” He jerks his head meaningfully at Eddie—who thankfully still has his head down so he can’t witness this tremendous lack of subtlety—and mouths, You know, a distraction.

“And I’m the entertainment guy,” Steve says flatly.

“Well, we’ve gotta keep you around for some reason,” Lucas pipes up.

Steve turns around, walks backwards so he can point warningly at him. “Thin ice, Sinclair.”

But it’s all for show, and he keeps walking backwards, pretends to trip on a tree root and narrowly avoid a pratfall. Max actually giggles at that, which is a victory in and of itself, but Eddie’s looking down at his feet.

Hmm.

“If I wanted slapstick, I would’ve called Charlie Chaplin,” Dustin says.

“He’s dead,” Max points out.

Dustin quickly draws a hand over his neck, Cut it out. Which—yeah, that’s fair. Don’t want the conversation straying into stuff that’s too close to… everything.

“So you want education instead?” Steve says. “I think I can remember how to identify, like, some trees and shit from—”

“Forget Lover’s Lake,” Dustin says, “I’m walking you straight into a retirement home.”

Steve opens his mouth, ready to play up his outrage, and then he hears a very soft chuckle from the side. Eddie.

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, winks briefly in reassurance. Nice work.

“Oh, sorry, is that not entertaining enough for you?” Steve turns so he’s front facing again, kicking a few stray twigs as he thinks. “Uh… ooh, did I tell you about the affair? At work?”

“Someone’s having an affair at Family Video?” Lucas says, sounding disgusted.

Max cackles. “The scandal! At a family establishment, no less.”

Dustin points at her. “See, this is why you should play D&D!” he says, annoyingly sing-song. “You’ve got a flair for words.”

“How about I stick my flair right up your—”

“Uh, okay,” Eddie interrupts suddenly. “I need details.”

Aha, Steve thinks, smug. Got you.

“Fire away, Munson.”

“Did someone, like, confess to you while you were ringing them up?”

Steve scoffs. “No, it was—” He cups his mouth, calls, “Hey, Rob?”

Up ahead, Robin and Nancy turn.

“What?”

“The affair shift.”

“Oh!” Robin whacks Nancy on the arm in her enthusiasm. “This is such a good one. Okay, so am I gonna be her or—?”

“No!” Steve says. “You’ve gotta be me, you can’t do her voice right.”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Wait, I need to get into character.”

Robin makes a show of ruffling her hair, and Steve doesn’t even roll his eyes, can only grin as he hears Eddie cough a much stronger laugh into his elbow.

“Nance, count us in,” Robin says.

Nancy looks a mixture of surprised and amused. It only takes a moment of hesitance before she mimes holding a slate, mouths counting down. “Action!”

And they’re off.

It’s probably so stupid, Steve thinks, to be this loud right now, but he can’t bring himself to care—not when he can hear raucous laughter from all directions: Robin captures his flustered, wide-eyed look, while he dramatically re-enacts a woman storming into the store, demanding to see her husband’s account.

And he thinks Eddie actually laughs the loudest when he gets to the reveal: that said account was full of romantic movies the married couple had never seen together.

“Not one,” Steve echoes—and not to brag, but with this delivery? Juilliard, eat your heart out. “Not. One!”

The kids dissolve into more giggles; Robin fights to stay in character as Nancy jokingly calls, “And, scene!”

And Eddie throws back his head, and laughs and laughs.

Happiness is a good look on him, Steve thinks.

They all quieten eventually, but a lightness in mood still remains, as the kids huddle off together—“Hey, shitheads, not too far!” Steve says, far from the first time—and Eddie sidles up, fleetingly knocks their shoulders together.

“Steve Harrington. Who would’ve thought it, huh?”

“Thought what?”

Steve glances over at him, suddenly struck by the fact that the sun will go down soon; and he doesn’t really need to know what Mordor is to know that he’d rather not get there. That he’d rather freeze time, so they could all just walk in the woods forever.

Eddie shrugs. “You’re a good storyteller.” His eyes are soft, like that isn’t all that he’s saying. Like he’s saying Thank you.

Steve shrugs back. “I’m a man of many talents,” he says.

Eddie chuckles, and this time his smile doesn’t fade away.

Steve allows himself a moment or two to admire the scenery, and if that means looking less at the way the sun still shines through the gaps in the branches, and more the way that it illuminates Eddie’s lingering smile, well…

Well, so what?

Right now, we’re happy, Steve finds himself thinking.

They can stay in the Shire for a little while longer.

[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[thehighladywrites]

— “I’m just a girl!”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader

☀︎ — summary: you tell azriel you don’t know what taxes are, and that you haven’t filed them ever

☀︎ — warnings: fluff, dramatic reader, azriel being sweet and educational

☀︎ — amara’s note: man i wish i was her rn💔 also this is so fucking real bc what on earth are taxes???

series masterlist

“Baby, please, you have got to grasp the gravity of this situation. Not filing your taxes is no joke. You could end up behind bars for tax evasion! There was a whole mandatory course last semester, didn’t you take it?” Azriel's tone is firm, his concern painted all over his face as he stands infront of you.

When you revealed that you didn't know what taxes were or how to "file" them, Azriel got worried sick, emphasizing the importance of understanding basic responsibilities like this.

He brought you into the living room, seated you on the sofa, and stood in front of you, carefully explaining step by step why not filing taxes was illegal and how to fix the situation. However, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on his words, your attention completely consumed by his built muscles. Your mind goes blank as you find yourself daydreaming about him taking off his shirt.

Azriel knows you’re not focusing on his words, he knows you’re ogling his body, and even though he gets warm and loves it, he needs you to focus on the topic, at least for a few minutes.

“Are you paying attention, baby?”

You honestly don’t get it at all. Like, if they take tax from you when you’re shopping, shouldn’t they already know how much you owe or whatever? And who even are the IRS? Can’t you just live your life without all this complicated stuff? Why does Azriel have to make everything so...ugh, what's the word? Complicated?

“Oh my god, Azzie! Stop it, I don’t wanna do this and I don’t understand anything. Please, I’m just a girl!” you exclaim dramatically pulling your knees to your chest as you hide your face in your hands, tears prickling in your eyes. You’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation and the sheer thought of dealing with stupid taxes.

Azriel sighs deeply, his brows furrowing as he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. If he doesn’t have a gray hair by the end of the week, he’ll consider it a win. As much as he wants you to understand what is wrong with basically committing a crime, he doesn’t want you crying, he feels sick to his stomach seeing you so sad but he just has to fucking ask.

“You’re—You're just a girl— sweetheart, what does that even mean?” he asks gently, completely flabbergasted by your statement.

You fold your arms over your chest, chin held high as you say, “Ya heard me, m’just a girl. And that means i should not be doing any of this, i should be living my best life instead of thinking about whatever taxes are.”

Azriel just looks at you with raised eyebrows, man you’re stressing him the fuck out. Luckily he caught your illegal activities early otherwise you would have gone to prison for sure. Even though he thinks it was ridiculous for a person to have never done their taxes ever, he doesn’t hold you against it. He just slumps his shoulders, taking a breather. Azriel can never be mad at you, never at his sweet angel. Especially not when you look so upset, big sparkly eyes looking at him with worry.

It’s in that moment. That tiny moment, he decides to never confront you with your mistakes. Sure you almost went to jail, but Azriel is here now. He is intelligent enough to think about the more serious issues for the both of you. And he will for the rest of his life, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He wants to take care of you.

“You’re right, my love, you shouldn’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it,” Azriel assures you, his tone gentle as he tucks a strand behind your ear.

You look up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears as your face lights up before you stand up and jump into his arms, showering his face with kisses, your excitement bubbling over.

“Awe, you're the best baby, I love you so, so, soooo much!” you exclaimed, your words flowing freely in your ditzy excitement.

He laughs shyly, still getting nervous when you show him affection. “I love you too, beautiful.”

🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @andrewgarfield2022 @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @dwyniii @scoobies @harryshoobies69 @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @rowaelinsdaughter @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @viatorem-maris @berryzxx @riddlesb1tch @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria

[adams-angels]

Can you do one where Adam sees you as a place holder for his wives and doesn’t respect you ever but when you want to leave him he realizes just how much he truly cares about you and then like over course of a period of time (your choice) we forgive him :)

Thank you for listening ❤️

This was a fun one! I love a bit of angst. Can't get enough of the stuff!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Reader POV because I got a similar ask which I'll write as Adams POV

Used

It's all I ever asked for. To be respected. To be loved. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to be alone and wait for him while he was out galavanting around the heavens! How was it fair? He'd only ever sees me for sex. He wouldn't reply to my texts but god fucking forbid I miss one of his texts.

Or in this case ignore. I've had enough. I'm not being second choice anymore! So I texted him "we're done." I know it's cowardly to "break up" via text but it's not even like we were dating! I placed my phone down on my side table. I should of put it on silent. Why didn't I put it on silent.

Curling up on my bed, tears flowing from my eyes as I hear the vibration on my phone. He's either calling or text bombing me. I pick up my phone to see several missed called and about 20 texts already.

You think you're better than me?!

You're nothing!

I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT

YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I sob.

I must of fallen asleep during my crying of self pity. I stretch out my arms as I sit up only to see Adam at the doorway. I scream in surprise, falling off my bed hitting my phone off the nightstand in the process. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I yell at him.

He stands there, looming over me. "You want to leave me?" He asked, never had I heard him so emotionless. I tut as I stand up. "You say that like you cared." I retort, picking my phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards me, reaching out but I pulled away. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

I can't help but sigh, collapsing on my bed, hair covering my face. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." I can hear Adam moving closer, his wings dragging across the floor. "What are you talking about?" One of his hands land on mine. "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with mine as his other hand brushes my hair from my face revealing my teary eyes. "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups my face and I just can't help but melt into his touch. "Be mine?" I shrug in response. Clearing his throat he clarifies, "no, I'm asking. Be mine." I can't help but look at him like an idiot, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He stares at me with a blank expression. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in what I can only assume is annoyance. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." Never have I seen him look so weak. So... Small? "I'll have to think about it." I can't tell if he feels relieved or worried. Maybe both. "H-how long will that take?" He asked with a hint of desperation.

"I don't know, Adam." I shrug. My words hung in the air. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kissed my hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." I watch as he leaves my apartment. No through the door of course, no, he always had to leave from the balcony. I usually watch as he flies away. But not this time..

It's been about a month since I last spoke to Adam. I've seen him about. Doing his thing. It makes me laugh. When ever he notices me he freezes up. Just last week he was talking to Sera and as soon as he noticed me walk past he just stared. I swear I heard Sera say "earth to Adam."

Today I decided. I head towards his office, walking past several anxious angles. I heard yelling come from inside his office and then something smash. Before I could knock the door swung open and standing before me was a very frustrated Adam. His feathers were literally ruffled. "Y/n?" He was surprised to see me but his expression changed quickly as he remembered in was in the presence of his underlings. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. It was mess. I mean, I've seen it messy before but this was a whole new level. Documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. "Bad day?" I commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven."

He slumps down on his chair, watching me as I walk over to his office window, opening it to get some of that heavenly fresh air in. "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." I don't even get a chance to turn and face him before he's already darted from his chair wrapping me in his arms. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His wings surrounded us. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[messylustt]

obsessed ( believe me ) — ethan landry + reader ( scream ) : scream after ethan revealed himself as ghostface to you, you try to tell the group, hoping they’ll believe you…but ethan has other plans.

contents : surprisingly nothing sexual. a kiss. this is mainly the repercussions + plot after ethan’s reveal. wc 2.1k.

pt one pt two pt three

you had locked your door tight every night whenever you’d be home. you couldn’t let a ghostface get in, you couldn’t let…ethan get in. god, the concept that he’s a killer now confuses and scares you at the same time. if ethan can kill then christ, everyone should be wary of everyone.

you aggressively mix the cupcake batter. you had grown guilty and…well…confused. you hadn’t told the group. though you haven’t had the time—you haven’t seen them since the party. so, it’s not entirely your fault. you need to tell them. they could die if you don’t.

with a final whisk you begin to pour the batter into the cupcake tins. there’s no harm in giving them something tasty as you drop the charming bomb. You place the tin in the oven, already preheated. clicking the timer you pause. what if they don’t believe you?

the carpenter sisters and martin-meeks twins have known you the same length as they have ethan. shit, you should have gotten proof, something that would show your not just pointing the finger. you rest against the counter, watching as the cupcakes begin to bake.

you can feel your heart pick a pace at the thought of ethans words. he kissed you, he wanted to kiss you. what were you thinking letting him? no, you think to yourself. you didn’t have a choice…but it’s not like you absolutely hated the idea. shit.

what if you saw ethan in class? how the fuck should you act? you run your hands down your face, growing agitated and fidgety.

;;

“y/n!” mindy called from across campus. your carrying a box full of your cupcakes, as you take a heavy breath. it’s okay.

you wander over to her, smiling, only to falter when you see chad and ethan reach her side too.

you catch ethan’s gaze and freeze. ethan tilts his head, acting like an innocent shit. you gulp as you notice a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“mindy, can I talk to you for a moment?” if anyone’s gonna believe you about ethan, it’s mindy. she already thinks ghostface is him.

“uh, sure. is it real private?” she seems confused, since this group barely kept anything from each other. you clutch your cupcake box a little tighter, and that’s when chad notices.

“hey! are those cupcakes?”

you smile, offering them to him. “yo, thanks y/n.” he opens the box as you turn back to mindy.

“it’s girls sorta stuff.”

“oh.” she smiles, grabbing your elbow. “we’ll catch up with you later!” she calls back to ethan and chad, as she brings you farther away.

as you stop by a tree, you can't help but glance back at the two boys. chad is stuffing one of your cupcakes in his mouth. you hate the shiver that racks your spine, as you watch ethan take a bite, keeping his gaze on you. he tilts his head down in thanks, and you can spot the mischievous glint in his eyes. he knew they were bribe cupcakes for your point on him being the killer, to make it sound more appealing. but he only finishes the cupcake with a hum.

you whip your gaze to mindy, your expression desperate. “mindy, you know how you're always saying that ethan is ghostface?”

mindy scowls, glancing at him. “yeah, i swear it's him.” She narrows her eyes, before shifting her gaze back to you. “why—do you think the same?”

“i don't think, i know.” you stare at her earnestly. “i saw him. he attacked at my apartment. there was this other ghostface there, who tried to first, and then…” you weren’t going to mention that Ethan kissed you. it was irrelevant. “then he took off his mask.”

mindy is staring at you as your words spill out in a rush. “wait, you're saying ethan attacked you in your apartment, and then revealed himself?” she hisses.

“well, no, he didn’t attack me. he attacked the other ghostface—”

“wait, what?!”

you shush her, glancing around. ethan and chad weren’t there anymore and you were relieved.

mindy stares at you. “why would he attack the other ghostface?”

“i don’t know!” you exasperate.

mindy spins in surprise. “what the fuck?!”

you grab her arm. “but you believe me, right?”

“i believe ethan could be ghostface, but…attacking his fellow ghostie, and then what— revealing himself to you?” she sighs. “it's a little hard to make that make sense.”

“i know, i know. but i swear. that’s what happened.” you're growing desperate, especially as you see hesitance flash across mindy’s face.

“mindy, i wouldn’t make this up.”

she sighs. “but if ethan—as ghostface—went to your apartment not to hurt you, then why was he there?”

you pause. he couldn’t have just been there to…kiss you, right? that doesn’t make sense. you go to explain more about him attacking the other ghostface when you stay silent. ethan saved you from getting killed. would Mindy interpret that as you being on the same side. no. if you’d tell her that, then she’d know you weren’t one of them.

“y/n?”

you meet mindy’s gaze, as her eyes have grown wary. you shake your head. “i don't know why ethan was at my apartment dressed as ghostface. all I know is that he is one of them.”

“i– look i want to believe you, y/n. i like you! but it's just—” she cuts herself off, breathing. “you could be lying because your…ghostface.”

your shoulders slump. this is what you were scared might happen. “mindy, i swear.” you go to grab her arm, but she steps back.

“ethan is still on the top of my list, but…let me just think.” rhen she leaves.

shit. this was supposed to go so much better.

“you should have given her the cupcakes.”

you jump, and whip around to see ethan standing with an almost smug expression. you gulp, stepping to the side. “get out of my way.”

ethan just chuckles. “didn’t work?”

your silence makes him grin. “she already thinks i’m Ghostface, but like you, has no real evidence.”

“i–” you cut yourself off, because he’s right. you have nothing on him. and it turns out your word isn’t enough. “just leave me alone.”

“so cold.” he comments. “we’re in the same lesson.”

your whole body is tense. “come on.” ethan turns, heading to the large building of blackmore.

you both make it to the hallway, bustling with students heading to their respective classes. you stay a decent way behind ethan. you will not be seen with him. that would only contradict everything you said to mindy.

then just as you're about to squeeze past the students to get inside the lecture hall, a hand tightens around your wrist, yanking you to the right. you gasp as you get dragged into a small broom cupboard.

“ethan, what the fuck?” you spin to face him. he stands his back to the now shut door of the cupboard, trapping you in.

“i was kinda hoping you wouldn’t go and be a tattle tale.” he steps closer and you immediately step back, your hand out in warning. “but your cupcakes were very good, so, i guess that’s a plus.”

“ethan. let me out.” you were growing worried, the hairs on the back of your neck spiked.

“and i know i said i’ll leave you alone and all. but, wouldn’t it seem strange if we ignore each other.”

“if you wanna act normal in front of them—fine.” you were scared, and ethan could tell. “but there's no reason for us to see each other alone.” you gesture around the closet.

“that kinda hurts, y/n.” ethan says. “i mean i’m not too much of a fan of PDA, but if you're into that, I’ll settle.”

“what?”

ethan steps closer, and your grip finds a broom. “i like kissing you. and if you don't want to do it alone, then we can do it in front of our friends.”

you gulp, holding your pathetic excuse of a weapon out in front of you. “i’ll keep your secret, they don’t believe me anyway. so, please. there’s no need to kill me.”

“kill you? gave you listened to a word i've said?” wthan brushes his hand across the brustels of the broom. “i’d rather kiss you then, then kill you.” he steps closer. “and the broom’s cute.” he’s trying not to laugh.

“ethan, seriously.”

“i’m being dead serious, y/n.” he says, tapping down the broom as you shake his fingers off. then he backs away. “i’ll see you in class.” then he’s out of the closet, leaving you standing there, breathing hard and even more confused.

;;

you’re standing, talking to tara, as you wait for the rest of the group to be done with classes. mindy and chad come out first. slowly followed by ethan. you stay close to chad, as he tells you about this dick in his lesson.

ethan notices your “subtle” move to be “safe”. chad couldn’t protect you. and not from getting hurt, ethan’s already been clear that that's the last thing he wants to happen. just from him in general. he likes you. he thought it was obvious, but he guesses you're still reeling from him being ghostface.

you all talk and walk, until you’ve reached the carpenter sister’s apartment. ethan then digs in his pocket to retrieve a ring he stole from you in the closet. tara, Sam, and quinn are heading to their apartment.

“uh, y/n?” ethan calls to you, making you glance behind your shoulder. “i have something of yours.” he holds up the ring, as you hesitantly step closer, your hand out. you think you must have dropped it on your walk.

but ethan strides over, passing your hand and grabbing your chin. before you can say a word ethan is pressing his lips to yours, you stumble slightly back, along the gravel. chad is watching, mouth hanging open. “holy shit,” you catch tara say, as ethan pulls back, with a grin.

you're staring at him agape, as you hear a few hollers from chad. if only he knew. ethan then whispers in your ear. “i’ll call you.”

;;

you're staring at your phone in your apartment, scared for it to ring. and when it does, you hesitate grabbing it.

when you do, you take a reassessing breath. you had to end whatever this was. “hello, y/n.”

ethan’s using the ghostface modulator. prick. “ethan, you don’t have to use that. i know it's you.”

“and where’s the fun in that?” the deep voice breathes a chuckle.

“stop playing games, ethan. stop all of this. i’m not interested.”

“in me?” he inquired.

you hate the fact that you falter. you shouldn’t be fucking faltering! “yes.”

“you're a very unconvincing liar.” ghostface speaks mockingly.

“and you can’t take a hint.”

“tell me y/n,” ghostface speaks, as you pace your living room. “what's your favourite scary movie?” he jokes.

you scoff. “i said no more games ethan.”

“just one.” ghostface half begs. “i promise.”

“you gonna make me another deal?”

“i can.” ghostface shuffles on the other end. “if you play this game with me and win…i’ll reveal myself to our friends.”

you pause your pacing. “what?”

“doesn’t that sound fair?” ghostface probes.

you gulp. would he really? you wouldn’t look like a fool to mindy, and worse a betraying ghostface. you lick your lips. “what’s the game?”

“that’s my girl.” ghostface praises breathlessly. you stand a little straighter, ignoring the butterflies swarming your stomach.

“we’re going to play a simple simon says.” ghostface breathes through the phone.

“simon says?” you repeat.

“mhm.” ghostface hums.

you run your hand through your hair, gathering your thoughts, and a seeable decision. fuck it. all you had to win was simon says. easy. “deal.”

you can almost hear the grin forming on ghostface—ethan’s—face. “let’s get started, then.”

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