#<- might as well make a tag for it at this point

[masterdreamweaver]

i have further commentary about this that i put into the tags at first but i think it should be part of the main post so it doesn't get lost in further reblogs;

#like hey with all due respect. you are conflating a good handful of things (i don't think i said this part right but that's not the point)

checking tumblr on the phone when you're in the bathroom is a habit. combing your fingers through your hair when you're nervous is a habit.

saying "i can't form habits, the habit forming part of my brain is broken" is. in and of itself. a habit.

hello. i have been professionally diagnosed with adhd twice. it is so much easier now that i am medicated about it. yes. but also quite literally. op is Right.

#i have a life threatening disability that will genuinely kill me if i forget to take my medication #i forget to take my medication a lot. i know this.

#outsource your habits. outsource your motivation. set timers. set reminders. #give yourself a gold star sticker. ask your friends to tell you that they're proud of you. #there are things that make it easier and you are. not entirely wrong. but you're being a negative nancy about it.

#i don't know if i do fully believe you when you say that you've broken your tasks down to the smallest step either

#like my steps for medication are #get food. count carbs. do math. do shot. #that's not small enough. #do shot-- that's so simple and easy. right

no. i have to: - grab my insulin case. - open it. - take syringe out. - take alcohol swab out. - take vial out. - open alcohol swab. - swab top of vial so it's clean. - take backstop cap off syringe. - take front cap off syringe. - purge empty air from syringe. - draw in air. - stick needle in vial. - inject air into vial. - flip vial and syringe upside down. - draw out insulin into syringe. - inject back into vial to get rid of air bubbles. - repeat if necessary. - draw out correct dosage. - take vial off of syringe. - hit syringe with vial in case there's any air bubbles left in there - set syringe down. - expose flesh. (i usually do my shots in my stomach so this is usually as simple as "lean back in chair. lift up shirt." but it's more complicated if you're in public or wearing something more complicated than pajamas etc) - pick up alcohol swab again. - wipe flesh clean with alcohol swab. - set down alcohol swab. - pick up syringe again with one hand. - pinch flesh with the other hand. - place needle against skin. - push needle into flesh until it's fully in there. - inject insulin into flesh. - hit the stopper with my thumb a bit to make sure i get every unit. - remove syringe from flesh slow and careful. - set it down. - pick up alcohol swab. - wipe flesh clean with alcohol swab a second time. - set alcohol swab down. - pick up syringe and syringe caps again. - put both caps back on the syringe. - put syringe in sharps container. - put alcohol swab in trash. - put vial back into medkit. - put medkit back into its place (on my desk i have an organizer with all my shit so it's in reach every second)

and even all THAT. that can be broken down FURTHER. anything can be made simpler and less complicated and easier.

there's a post i need to find which is genuinely about this; "go get a glass of water" for someone without problems might have to be broken all the way down into "stand up walk to door open door go out of door close door walk to stairs walk down stairs walk to kitchen walk to cabinet open cabinet grab cup take cup out of cabinet walk to sink hold cup under faucet turn on sink turn off sink move cup to mouth drink water"

but it's. yeah. you should have made that your own post instead of venting on some genuinely well-meaning and helpful advice

here's some more unsolicited adult advice as someone in her 30s who knows there are a lot of twenty somethings and teens that follow her: if you're trying to build a new habit you really want, and are struggling, you have to break it down to the smallest building block possible. If you're failing, you haven't thought small enough. I know it's possible to hear stories of people who just snapped into new life mode one day by "just deciding", but truly what's happening there is a confluence of events and experiences that force the brain into some sort of epiphany. You cannot will an epiphany. It'll never work. For most times of your life, you will need to build habits intentionally, and that means not working against yourself and to set micro goals. like laughably tiny goals. because once that easy tiny goal is met, you can build off it, tiny goal after tiny goal until you reach your big goal.

so for example, if you want to be a morning person that gets up at ass crack dawn so that you can work out, eat brekkie, shower, and get to work at a leisurely pace, and you're not that person because you will hit your snooze button 800 times, you have to get the big picture goal out of your head. think smaller. "I want to get up 15 minutes earlier than I normally do." If you can't do that, make it 5 minutes. "I want to cook breakfast every day" hell no too big. "I want to eat something, anything, before I leave the house" hell yeah, fantastic. When you go to the grocery store to make sure there are things in the house for breakfast, if you keep buying bagels and microwave sandwiches that you ignore, you gotta think smaller. SMALLER. What's something so easy to eat that you'll never say no to. Is it a yogurt? Is it a handful of grapes? Is it a hostess ho ho? is it hot cheetos? FORGET the big picture of the fantasy put-together woman preparing a full nutritious meal that you'd be proud to admit to. Think only of the smallest goal you can achieve. If you know you can't say no to an ice cream sandwich, put a ton of ice cream sandwiches in your freezer and have one for breakfast every day until it's so instilled in you that you gotta get up to eat something you can start diversifying.

It sounds like, from the lack of habit place, that must take forever. But really it doesn't take too long to form the habit once the discipline kicks in. the trick is that you have to give your brain something easy to become disciplined to. If it's too hard, think easier and smaller. No one has to know. Literally no one in the gd world has to know that for 4 weeks when you were 22 you had an ice cream sandwich for breakfast every day. who cares. If it gets you eating oatmeal with fresh fruit in a few months who cares. you did it, yay. smaller, easier. if you can't do it, think smaller and easier. smaller!! EASIER!!! You are not thinking smaller and easier enough. break your brain thinking how small and easy you can go. SMALLER. EVEN SMALLER, SIS.

[steddieas-shegoes]

spiderman kiss

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated t | 896 words | no cw | tags: fake dating au, fake wedding date, strangers to lovers, fast burn of the century, getting together, first kiss, modern au

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

“I cannot believe you fell for this guy,” Robin hisses through her teeth as she gestures to Eddie, who is doing his best impression of a bat by hanging upside down from a tree branch. “You were supposed to bring him to the wedding, not want to marry him.”

“Woah. I said I liked him, not that I wanted to marry him,” Steve whispers.

“For you, that’s basically the same thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but she’s right. He may not fall for people often, but when he does, it’s all or nothing. Head over heels. Madly, deeply in love.

Eddie was supposed to be his date for this wedding to appease all the kids, to get them to just shut up already about how single he is and how miserable he is when he comes to events alone. He’s Dustin’s friend, apparently someone just as miserably single as Steve.

He’s weird. Steve likes weird.

He’s loud. Steve likes…his loud.

He’s exciting. Steve needs excitement.

He’s also hot. In a metalhead who didn’t get the memo that the 80s are over, wore jeans and a button-up to a formal event, played air guitar in his seat during the bridal march kind of way.

“He’s fun,” Steve settles on, shrugging. “Aren’t you the one who said I need more fun in my life?”

“I meant, like, a new hobby!”

“He could be my new hobby.”

“Ew,” Robin groans. “Okay. Alright, fine. You wanna be involved with him, be my guest. Dustin says he’s never once seen him in a committed relationship.”

Steve knows. They spent most of yesterday together talking, getting to know each other, making sure they could pass as boyfriends and not people who just met. Steve didn’t care about being single at a wedding, but apparently all of his friends had told Dustin’s mom they were dating behind their backs and now-

“Stevie!” Eddie yells when he notices him talking to Robin at the table. “We could Spiderman kiss!”

Steve glances at Robin, who rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Oh my god, just go.”

He stands and walks over to Eddie, who is hanging much lower than he should be for a proper Spiderman kiss. He’s grinning, and his hair has started to fall from its messy bun. Steve cannot believe he’s doing this.

He stands with his hands on his hips, smirking at Eddie trying to hold himself up higher, but not having the strength to do it.

“It would be a lot easier to kiss you if you got down,” Steve says.

Everyone goes silent.

Because everyone who is standing by Eddie– Max, Dustin, Will, and Mike– are all very aware that this was nothing more than a fake date for the wedding. Steve doesn’t need to kiss Eddie when no one is watching; He doesn’t need to kiss even when someone is watching.

Eddie stops trying to lift himself, eyes widening as Steve takes another step closer.

“You’d have to be on that branch to pull it off,” Steve says as he points at the branch about two feet above the one he’s currently on. “Unless I get on my knees.”

Everyone pretends they don’t hear the strangled noise that escapes Eddie.

“You’d get dirty, though. Those are nice pants,” Eddie says, still upside down, face bright red from embarrassment and blood rushing to his head.

“They are,” Steve agrees, laughing as he squats so he’s barely higher than Eddie’s face. “But I have to dry clean them anyway. Might as well get what I’m paying for.”

Steve places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck and leans in, brushing their lips together softly. It’s awkward because Eddie’s upside down and Steve has no idea how they made it looks so hot in the movie, but-

“This is a turn of events I did not see coming!” Dustin’s new wife, Suzie, claps. “You were so right, Dusty Buns. They’re perfect for each other.”

Steve does what he does best and ignores them, focusing on Eddie, who looks unstable now.

“Do you need help getting down?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, and Steve moves as quickly as he can to help get him upright so he can climb down. He’s surprised Dustin agreed to an outdoor wedding in the spring with his allergies, but Suzie insisted on having fresh flowers everywhere and would not accept store bought. He’s even more surprised that Eddie, who admitted to having seasonal allergies while they talked at dinner last night, is hanging in trees.

When Eddie’s back on the ground, Steve kisses him for real. A hard press to his lips, tongue brushing against him, teasing.

“Did you climb a tree for attention?” Steve asks him when he pulls away.

“It worked. I can’t be blamed for doing something drastic for you to kiss me.”

“You could’ve just kissed me,” Steve laughs.

Eddie does.

“Still fake? Or can we admit that there’s way more chemistry here than we expected there to be and kiss some more?” He asks.

“I regret doing this. I regret it so much,” Dustin groans as he walks away.

Steve rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t. He’s gonna go do his happy dance where we can’t see him.”

“He has a happy dance?” Eddie asks, smile growing as he leans into Steve’s side.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. Let’s go watch.”

[starzify]

patch you up — dean winchester

pairing dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings smut | foreplay | unprotected p in v (do not try at home 😱😱)

SPN MASTERLIST

The last vampire went down after a brutal tag-team effort, Dean landing the decapitating blow with a grunt of satisfaction. He turned to you, ready with some cocky remark, but froze when he saw the gash along your shoulder, blood seeping through your torn sleeve.

“We need to get out. Now.” His voice was sharp, harsher than he meant.

“There’s still more,” you argued, glancing around the dark room.

“I don’t care.” He grabbed your wrist, checking for injuries before pulling you toward the door. “We’ll handle it later. Move.”

—

He’d offered you his jacket, but you’d declined. This was not how he’d dreamed it. You sat in the passenger seat of his baby, your dress torn and bloodied, your face sour, refusing to look at him. He heard you take a deep breath and braced himself for your snide comment.

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten us killed.” You didn’t even sound mad, you stated it like a fact.

He couldn’t help but do a double take as he processed your words. “Me? We had a plan, and that wasn’t it. What were you thinking, going off alone with them?”

“I had to think on my feet, and it was going perfectly until you barged in and fucked it all up. God I am so sick of you.”

“Perfect my ass! Putting yourself in dange-”

“I was fine, you put me in danger.” He opened his mouth to interject but you continued, going full rant. “They saw you sniffing around the club, and when you broke in, they saw you on the CCTV. It wasn’t exactly hard to put two plus two together. You always do this, you underestimate me. I am not some damsel in distress, I can handle myself.”

The air was thick with bitter tension as he drove the rest of the way to the motel in silence. He didn’t like you going off alone like that, but maybe you had a point. Hunting wasn’t exactly the safest of jobs, and you’d made it this far without him. He should have apologised or tried to smooth things over, but instead, he asked, “Well, princess, will you at least let me patch you up?”

You watched with furrowed brows as he cocked his thumb to point at his room. He’d expected you to ignore him and head for your own room, but you agreed with a nod and crossed your arms as you followed him inside.

He didn’t try getting you to sit in his lap. You sat yourself on the end of the bed as he located his makeshift first-aid pack.

“Should I put the TV on?” He asks, knowing it’ll likely be a long, quiet process if not. 

You glare, and he knows he shouldn’t be, but he’s reminded of the look you’d given him across the dancefloor earlier and everything else he’s associated with it. Eventually, you answer. “Whatever.”

He sighs, switches on the TV, and begins patching you up in silence. He tries to be gentle, but the alcohol makes you hiss and groan as he cleans you up. Every moan evokes an indecent image that makes his skin burn with inappropriate arousal. He wonders if you sound the same in bed.

When the worst of the damage is patched up, he starts cleaning up the excess blood, checking for any he might have missed. Blood from the cut across your chest has gathered and congealed in your cleavage. He hooks a finger on the low neckline of your dress and looks to your face for approval. You’re unbothered, eyes fixated on the TV screen with such distaste he wonders if inanimate objects can take offence.

He tugs at the dress, not enough to expose anything but enough to get your attention. You glance down at his hand, then to his face, and shrug before diverting your attention back to the TV. Taking that as permission, he pulls your dress down, almost certainly too far. He takes an involuntary moment to soak in the image, blood and bandages included, you were a vision in your lacy black bra.

Your deliberate coughing brought him back to the present, and he made quick work of cleaning your chest, avoiding your gaze as he worked. When he was done, you pulled your dress back up without delay. You made no move to get up, and he made no effort to move you. Instead, you continued to sit in awkward silence. Both of you too stubborn to speak first.

When you finally broke the silence, you didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired, worried. “The rest of the nest is gonna be on our trail.”

“I know.” He conferred, trying to match your energy. “But it’s almost sunrise, we have time to rest and regroup before tomorrow night.”

“And will I be allowed to fight them, or would you like to cover me in bubble wrap?” Your voice still lacked malice, just sarcasm.

Without taking the time to think through his words, Dean replied. “You can do whatever you want. Just don’t blame me when you get yourself killed, or worse turned.”

“There you go again.” You leaned away from him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. “All your mouth does is talk dumb shit.”

“My mouth does plenty, thank you very much.”

“Like what?” You ask, tone defiant as you watch him through your lashes. The words were wrong, but the intense gaze matched his fantasy. He half expected you to reach out and pull him in for a kiss. When you don’t, he does it for you. You taste like salt and booze, but your lips are so soft, they melt right into his.

When you pull away, he braces himself for you to yell, or punch, or leave, but instead, your eyes rake over his face. He notices the heat in his cheeks when you comment, “Are you blushing, Winchester? Because of me?”

“No, it’s hot in here.” He replies curtly, still not wanting to give you the upper hand. 

“Funny.” You aren’t laughing as you look around the room. “I’m pretty cold.”

“You lost a lot of blood. That’s one of the symptoms.”

“Isn’t delirium also a symptom. If it’s that bad, are you taking advantage of me?” You raise brows at him, challenging him.

In return, he shoots you with the most puppy-dog concerned face he can muster. “Are you? Delirious? Should we stop?”

“No, get back over here and kiss me.” Now you reach for him, placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him closer until your lips lock again. Mid kiss, you straddle him, holding him still with your arm around his neck as you begin to grind against his clothed erection.

He paws at the skirt of your dress until you get the hint and pull it over your head. He only gets a second to enjoy the view before you return the gesture, lifting his shirt up until he finishes the job for you. By the time he’s done, you’ve removed your bra as well. He greets the unobstructed sight of your breasts by planting himself between them, lavishing them with his mouth, sucking and nibbling at your nipples as you roll your hips against him.

Offering you reprieve, he pulls back to watch you as he dips his hand into your panties, happy to be greeted by the slick between your folds. Not bothering to tease, he plunges a finger straight in, enjoying the way your heat immediately clenches around him. He pumps the solo digit a few times before adding a second and a third, and you take each one perfectly. The sounds you make are just how he’d dreamed it, but also somehow better.

The best sound is the squeal you make as he quickly retracts his fingers and switches your position, laying you flat on your back as he straddles your thighs. You take it in your stride, however, and plant your hands on his shoulder before slipping them down his chest to hook into the waistband of his jeans. You work together to undo his belt and jeans. Dean shimmies them down just low enough to expose his dick. You must like what you see because he notices the way you lick your lips at the sight. He makes a mental note to see about putting your mouth to good use at a later time.

Your whole body seems to shiver when he runs the tip of his hardened cock between your slit, deliberately circling your clit.

“You like that?” He coos.

You respond by pushing him off you. He concedes, rolling onto his back and letting you mount him once again. “Shut up.”

He laughs but otherwise does as he’s told, barely able to keep his composure as he takes in the sight of you. You grip his cock, pumping a few times before you start lining him up with your entrance, and he prays you don’t mock his blushing again.

You don’t say anything, but you lock eyes with him as you slide his cock between your lips and sink down onto him. Fuck, you feel so fucking good, better than he could have imagined. Your walls are tight and wet around him, and he can’t help but grip onto your hips, not to force you down, but to make sure you don’t retreat.

When you reach the base, you seize all movement, presumably allowing yourself to adjust, but he can’t help rocking his hip beneath you. You both groan in sync at the feeling.

“Impatient.” You scold, but your voice is soft and dreamy.

“Can’t help it.” He returns, thrusting up again and enjoying the way your eyes roll back in response. “You feel too good, you take it so well.”

You glare at him, challenging him as you reposition your feet, readying to start, and he bites his lip in anticipation.

With no further warning, you start riding him, setting a fast, reckless pace, and releases your hips to fists at the sheets, trying to distract himself from the fact he’s already about to blow his load.

“I think I’m gonna-”

He’s cut off by the immediate narrowing of your eyes. “Don’t you dare, not until I’ve cum first. You owe me.”

“Fuck. Yes ma’am.”  He groans through gritted teeth as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

It’s agonising, watching you sway above him, taking what you want from his body. He watches with bated breath as you start to play with your clit, pleasuring yourself. His whole-body jerks, trying to hold back when he feels your walls squeeze around him.  You lol your head back, moaning to the ceiling when you finally hit your climax.

Your body slows as you try to catch your breath, but it’s Dean's turn. He sits up, lifting you by your ass just enough to ease the process of him rutting up into your leaking cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum deep inside you.” He chants.

You nod, blasé and tell him; “Do it.”

As if on demand, he shoots his load, spilling inside you with a loud, animalistic groan.

Your weight falls on him, your head resting against his shoulder. He feels his own energy slowly draining as well, but that doesn’t stop him from placing absentminded kisses on the back of your neck as he carefully falls back against the bed, taking you with him. Of everything that had happened that night, cuddling was the most surprising to him.

After a few minutes he speaks up, shifting to guide you back up. His soft cock slips out, and he feels his own cum drip back onto him. “We should get cleaned up.”

“Yeah.” You nod, taking his queue, standing from bed, and heading for the bathroom to get cleaned up. “And we should really start working on a plan nightfall.”

“Maybe we should get some rest first. Regroup when we're not both exhausted.”

“Are you kidding.” Your head pokes out of the bathroom door. “They could be on our trail right now… What?”

“Nothin’.” He shrugs. All the tension you’d just released together was already building back up. “You just don’t ever fucking change.”

tags: @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @bluemerakis @chevroletdean @dulcescorderitas @deansbeer @figthoughts @florchids @haunteres @h8aaz @j2archives @rafespreciosa @sunsbaby @soldiersgirl @sunsettsam @titsout4jackles @turnerrst @whisperingdaze

cassie chats: i was gonna make this a lil drabble but my freaky ass got carried away 💔💔

[xdjville]

what p1harmony calls you

pairing: p1harmony x gn!reader

cw: none

author's note: first post after 10 months, and the first time for p1h! i honestly lost motivation for a long time but i saw piwon live back in january and i'm lowkey (highkey) obsessed so...

#keeho

keeho's a babe kinda guy, through and through. and i mean explicitly, with no exceptions, to the point where your name starts to sound a bit foreign coming from his mouth. he also overuses it (he knows it and refuses to stop), almost every sentence that he says in your direction has to start or end with the petname or else he'd genuinely be sick. your contact name in his phone is 'ma babe 🫶' and he only occasionally changes the emoji.

#theo

your full name, full government name. honestly, with theo i feel like people who don't know he's in a relationship wouldn't realize that from the way he's referring to you, and you will not catch him using a petname, ever. also, if y'all remember that one interview where keeho said that theo has a lot of 'natural aegyo' and keeps talking in that whiny voice, he'd use that tone for you all of the time, purposefully making it more dramatic than what it's worth. it's all out of love though.

#jiung

jiung gets very creative with petnames for you, poetic even, and he's loud and proud about it. no amount of gagging sounds from intak can stop him from calling you his cupcake or angel, and he pays lots of attention to how you're reacting to each one, making sure you're comfortable and trying to find the one you seem to like the most. when you're not around, he'd refer to you as his partner or his baby, the words sliding from his tongue like it's your actual name.

#intak

intak's favorites are babe or baby as well, mixed with an occasional short version of your name here and there. he'd only use your full name when he's upset about something, not necessarily because of you, but it'd be the first sign that something's wrong. when talking about you he definitely calls you his partner, because damn, you are his partner. he just can't stop himself from boasting a little, and honestly, how can you blame him?

#soul

soul would definitely go with either a weird variation of your name that he finds oddly endearing or an inside joke, one that may sound confusing to other people without context. generally, i feel like he'd like something that's really yours, that only the two of you understand or that no one else uses for you except him, like some kind of secret language. he'd use the same words to refer to you while talking to other people, and he honestly couldn't care less if they even understand who he's talking about. and no, he will not explain.

#jongseob

like theo, i honestly don't see jongseob as a petname kind of person, he'd probably just call you by your name, usually your full name (unless you don't like it). a little baby or love might slip from his mouth every now and then, usually when he's in a good mood, but it would usually still come along with your name. when it's in writing though? you're his sunshine, his biggest inspiration, the light of his life, and his one and only (see what i did here). whether it's notes he leaves in your bag or lyrics he writes with you in his mind, new adjectives keep coming to his mind like it's the only thing he can think about.

#taglist ➼♡ @0-hoony @suzayaaa (pls lmk if you'd like to be tagged for piwon as well!)

©xdjville

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi there! Many apologies if I put my foot in my mouth here.

Do you have any rules for when to use BIPOC vs POC? I personally don’t like the term BIPOC for a number of reasons, most of which match the Newsweek article I link at the end, but since I’m nothing close to an expert, I wanted to check if you had an answer for what to do on that front. Possibly separately or possibly as part of the same question, do you have a preference as to which is used in your inbox? Happy to do either, even if the surge towards only ever using BIPOC makes me a little squeamish since I really struggle to find anyone championing it who doesn’t eventually turn out to be white when I look them up.

PS - I feel like I see both PoC and POC, but never BIPoC. Is there a reason for that, or are people just making inconsistent guesses at capitalization?

Newsweek article in question: https://www.newsweek.com/bipoc-isnt-doing-what-you-think-its-doing-opinion-1582494

I think it's really just a personal choice, fr. I have never cared for it, really 😅 I have better battles to fight (the proper use of 'NOUN of color'), and I get what they were trying to do, but... I tried and I just... I don't care for it.

It feels self serving to me. It's redundant and yet it sort of lumps Black and Indigenous folks together in a way that... It doesn't address that while we do have similarities and overlaps, we're not the same and shouldn't be dismissed so easily.

And also, "indigenous" doesn't necessarily mean 'Indigenous to the Americas', so without that added context to the conversation, you could be talking bout anywhere and those indigenous people could very well be white 😭 and if your point by then is "well I mean the ones of color" then by then you could have just said "people of color" already! 🤣 But that might be me overthinking it.

You could just refer to people by their names 😭 I'm not just an amorphous POC, I'm Black! So when you enter my inbox, say Black. No, don't refer to me as a POC/PoC or a BIPOC, you know what I am and what I've asked you to refer to me as. It's honestly incredibly insulting when I make posts specifically discussing Blackness and they get hit with the #poc #poc things. I do love my folk of color and will show solidarity ofc, but when I'm talking about Black people, I do mean Black people. And I'm pretty sure I can tell who's leaving those tags 😬

We're not all one lump solely defined by "not white"- when you know our identities, use them!

Sidebar, I also always misread it as "Bi and Indigenous people of color" 😭 Lmao you managed to accidentally hit on something I'm very passionate about but rarely speak on 😅

[eintausendschoen]

POV: It is Valentines Day. You followed an invitation to a bar on Mount Helicon, for an event called "The Blue Hearts Club". A mysterious invite extended by a total stranger... with the promise of a relaxing night out. Some well deserved Me-Time.

At the door, the owner of the place greets you like she knows you. She says her name is Kalliope, one of the Muses, but you do not know her.

When she points you at a crowded table at the back of the room you follow.

There, of course, you realize what the invite meant by...

... "Me-Time. Uh-huh.... riiiiight..."

The Muse winks at you as she pases, distributing another round of drinks. "Welcome to Valentine's!", she laughs, and from across the table laughter joins: "Yeah, with yourself!!"

For @dxwart — sorry to spring this on you but ... ah... that WAISTCOAT just had to be shown around. 💜 (link to the artwork)

🤩Shoutouts to all the beautiful beautiful people who lend me their designs to play with to make this date happen. You are all AMAZING artists and THANK YOU for all the good vibes here and making Poseidonverse happen!!🤩

From left to right, top to bottom and then right to left again (in terms of order 🤌) because life in the sea is a circle: In purple and gold, Poseidon by @rin-sith - he is so much fun to draw it is riddiculous.

Next to him, the cheeky lil' king (who really isn't little at all, believe me, everyone else is just so enormous, there is a sizechart but it blew the scale) with the luscious hair and the prettiest scales: Poseidon in a more mortal-ish form by @ruthlessness69

Okay, you all know him and he's half across the table already. This king is having LA FIESTA tonight, because he got a list, and now he got more names. @messymoonmad - he did that all on his own, I swear by Styx. (I love him so much.)

Yeah, canon Poseidon. He was there first, and now he's having a hard time holding onto his drink. 😘

Seacreature at the back is the lower half of @tagzpite glorious Poseidon. He might have just lost a bet, but he is a good sport. Also, checking out that blue-haired devil across the table already. (I just borrowed him last minute, he got dragged along - hope it's alright. He'll be returned intact.) Next three... most chaotic throuple (if you can call it that) in the history of saltwater. Poseidon of @pink-noah tried to snatch the hand of @kamuch-kommandos hot dark menace. Got snatched in turn and poor him, Tall Dark and Handsome got a death grip. All just because Poseidon by @bigidiotenergytm went to win a dare and smooch the Big Gun at risk of ear-injury.

Guess @melodyartists Poseidon owe's him a drink now. (He squeezed in last minute when I stumbled upon your post where he introduced himself to the popular girls, and of course I had to bring him into this mess. Hope it's alright? :)) ) Poseidon by @anniflamma, but her awesome new design. He wanted a word with @neal-illustrator's (neals not active here afaik but tagging anyway), so they made an appearance. Mostly because...

...you know them, you love them, you windbaarrrghl. Is it Cloudysseus shlepping Cloudseidon in to steal grapes together? Is it Zeus spying on his brother's Valentines date? Nobody knows. @kdpartworks thank you so much for lending them - I'll return them safe and sound when Poseidon gets back home.

To his left... @wukyma - he did the vase-face again. Why is he so cute when he does that? I'm such a big fan this wet grumpy cat, especially with Polites. (And how do you draw his curls??? That was so hard!) Of course he'd sit next to Gorgeous by @arraunean and trade war stories. No armour for the bar, but these two are classic guys and this is Helicon, so the comfy draperies to go with the wine.

And last - your host's 'not-quite-boss': he's mine, :))

Happy Valentine's everyone <3

[karamell-sweetz]

sooo gacha life 3 may let you draw your own assets…. like atp just learn how to draw the whole damn character yourself 😭

[yerimbrit]

overture : k. haerin

synopsis: even in doubt, you'll always have haerin.

# : pairing ! nonidol!kang haerin x fem!reader

# : tags ! classical music!au, haerin is a pianist, reader is a violinist, fluff, childhood friends to potentially something more, i might actually make this into a series but who knows, this could also technically be read as a 5+1 style fic but idk, domesticity

# : wordcount ! 1.6k

# : warnings ! none

"let's play."

those were the very first words that you've spoken to kang haerin, ever.

the girl had just moved into your neighborhood, to the house next door, and her mom had brought her over to your door for introductions. she was shy, even six year old you could tell, the way she hid behind her mom. once she peeked out in curiosity, that's when you uttered those two words.

her mouth hung agape, and hesitantly, she nodded. while your moms were chatting away, you decided to continue the conversation.

"i'm y/n, what's your name?" you held your hand out, smiling and proudly showing off the top row that was missing a tooth.

she didn't take your hand—only stared at it—but she quietly mumbled a, "haerin," before pointing at your mouth. "what happened to your tooth?"

you held your mouth open, pointing at it with your own finger, "this?" she nodded. "oh, i tripped and it fell out!"

it took more than a few moments for haerin to process your words, but after it clicked, tears started welling up in her eyes. panicked, you look up to your mom for help, but she was too busy getting to know haerin's mom to notice. suddenly, a lightbulb lit up above your head, and your eyes sparkled.

the girl would soon feel an enveloping warmth around her, a hug, and her eyes widened.

"there, there, don't cry! my dad always hugs me when i cry, so maybe this'll help... wait!" you pulled away, another panicked look overtaking your childish features, "sorry! mom says i shouldn't touch others without asking first!"

once again, haerin took a few moments to process what had just happened, and you really thought you were done for, because this was taking longer than the last time.

that was until a noise made its way out of her lips. then another, and then she was giggling, and laughing, and the cat-eyed girl was now smiling, and you just knew that you had to cherish this bond and keep it safe for the rest of your life.

a few months passed and you started school together, managing to get placed in the same homeroom class. you were stuck by the hip, glued together—no one could tear you apart. even when you were out socializing, you always made sure to introduce your friends to haerin, although she would stay quiet for most of the conversations.

it was during the talent show the following year when both you and haerin found a shared dream. an older kid, maybe three or so years above, was playing a solo of a riedling piece, but what stood out the most to you was the addition of another older kid on the piano.

you wanted to play the violin with haerin at your side. and it was a good thing you knew that she felt the same way, you could see it in the way her eyes glimmered while watching the performance, because you would've begged and begged for her to take piano lessons so you could play together.

and so upon returning home, you tugged on your mother's sleeve with pleading eyes and asked for a violin.

"let's play."

you approached haerin, who was sitting at the upright piano that her father had enthusiastically bought a few months prior, when his daughter timidly asked for something out loud for the first time. she had never asked with her words, but she asked with her eyes, and her father had never been so relieved that his daughter was able to voice her wants.

it had only been four months since you and haerin started learning how to play, and you were impatient. you wanted to play with haerin.

"okay."

of course, the first few tries were a sad jumble of notes, creating dissonance and harmonies out of sync. this wouldn't discourage you. you were determined to play.

and after an hour of nonstop playing and readjusting, you and haerin's heart and soul emerged in an almost perfect ring.

you turned around to face the cat-eyed girl, a big grin on your face as you lowered your quarter size violin by the neck. she turned to you, a small smile also stretched across her lips, and while her expression was mild compared to yours, her eyes told you everything.

let's play again.

"let's play," you huffed, your voice less childish than it was six years ago, when you were seven and too innocent. "we have to get it right!"

"i-" haerin started, but paused. she was never one to say no to you—a blessing and a curse, at least for her. "okay."

you resumed playing, only to slide your pinky too far down and play a screeching high note, piercing your left ear and haerin's right one. she rested her hands on her thighs, taking a deep breath and glancing over to you. "y/n, i really think that-"

"again!" you raised your voice, and haerin slightly flinched. you weren't one to raise your voice. in this realization, you widened your eyes, gently set your violin back down in its case, and sat down next to your best friend. "i'm sorry. i've been so stressed lately."

she didn't say anything, only reaching over to push your head down. it wasn't harsh, but only just—and your head would be resting on her shoulder where it belonged.

"i'm sorry, 'rinnie," you mumbled.

she shook her head. "it's okay. let's take a break."

"mhm."

"let's play," you mouthed to haerin, both of you adorning stylish and elegant black concert dresses. now sixteen, years of experience tacked onto your belts, it was the final round of the national violin competition that you'd worked tirelessly to reach.

rachimaninoff's morceaux de salon, op 6. 2: danse hongroise.

nine years of hard work led you to this moment, where you would play and haerin would be your accompaniment. you believed in you and haerin's capabilities, for you had long surpassed the upperclassmen's level that had once inspired your dreams.

the notes you played, the ones you breathed life into, danced around the stage, entwining with the ones haerin set free before running off towards the audience for a chance to show the people your bond.

and yes, they danced, and danced, and danced. just like how you and haerin did when you were younger, when the tv was on and a i got a boy stage was playing. like how you and haerin did when it was pouring rain and haerin pretended she didn't have a collapsible umbrella in her bag because you loved to dance in the rain.

it was beautiful, both the harmony and the melody, and your relationship with haerin. you knew that you loved haerin. there was nothing you were more sure of. not even the mistakes that stuck out to everyone but you, and not even the fact that you loved the rain. and you knew that haerin loved you too. there was no need for words when it came to her.

sweat trailed down your brow as you switched between bowing and pizzicato, and with a glance to your left you saw haerin's brows furrowing in concentration, keeping up with your rapid notes. there was something in the way she played, there always was; she played the piano like she was a magician. there was something so alluring about her movements that you got surprised when she pulled something out of her sleeve. her hands were fluid, like they were one with the black and white keys, and once you got a taste of her magic? there was no going back.

in your own movements, there was emotion. joy, sorrow, anything that you could pull out of the piece. it was as if you entered the mindscape of the centuries old composers, and brought their feelings out in warm strokes of your bow. it immersed the audience, like you were bringing your hand out in an introduction and waiting for them to take it.

these two styles contrasted and complemented each other, and that was what made your performance so good.

the final notes of the piece rang out, and the crowd became silent. the only thing you could hear was the sound of you and your partner's heavy breaths on the stage and the final reverberations of your instruments.

the audience stood, and a deafening ovation was awarded for your combined efforts.

you smiled. you didn't have to turn around to know that haerin was smiling too.

"we're so little in this picture," you giggle, setting the framed photo near the windowsill that sheds light on the grand piano that haerin will play.

the girl hums, bringing a box full of old trinkets and memories to place near the couch. the apartment you now share is more than enough space for you and your partner to reside in. "you looked cuter with that missing tooth."

"oh yeah?" you feign an eye twitch, "why don't i give you one to match?"

"aw, you want to match with me?" she teases, eyes crinkling up in mischief. you playfully raise a fist and then lower it.

bending down to open the box she had just placed, you reach your hand inside and feel your fingertips brushing against a few pieces of paper stapled together, two sets of them. grabbing the sets, you read over the titles and your eyes light up along with your smile. "'rin, look! heart and soul."

haerin walks over, plucks her own set from your hands, and sets it onto the desk above the covered keyboard. she lifts the cover, motions to your encased violin. "y/n," she calls out, softly, warmly.

your smile widens, and you take the violin out of its case, naturally starting to tune it. once you're done, you walk to haerin's right side, and position the bottom edge of the instrument under the left side of your chin and onto your shoulder.

haerin says it before you can. you beam.

"let's play."

a/n : here is the haerin fic as promised, hope you enjoyed! i personally really like this one so i hope you guys feel the same :-)

[frost-queen]

Horde of walkers (Reader x Daryl Dixon)

Requested by: anon  Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23, @melsunshine  , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @slythetic, @bitchybananaflower, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr

You swallowed nervously, staring below the hill. Snarling and growling reaching your ears. Countless of walkers moving restlessly around. Some swinging their arms around when another walker bumped against them. – “Like hell I’m going through that.” – you said, looking to your side at Daryl.

His shoulder resting against yours. Lying between the bushes with you to remain out of sight. – “I don’t think we have any other choice, sweetheart.” – Daryl answered, slowly turning his head at you. – “They are blocking our path to reach the others.” – he went on, quietly raising his hand to point at the horizon. – “That is where we are meeting.” – making you look at well. You puffed loud, knowing it good enough.

You just wished there was any other way. – “Can’t we go around?” – you suggested. It was probably a stupid question, but you needed it to be said anyways. Daryl gave you glance if you were being serious right now. – “That will take us days. You really want to stay in the woods for days more without any more supplies. I only got a few hard candybars left in my bag Y/n.” – Daryl immediately spoke the hard truth.

Exhaling deep, you lowered your head. There was no going around. Only one path clear. Forwards. Gazing below once more at the hoard, you started silently counting them. Wanting to know against how many you were up. Daryl noticed it as your mouth was moving silently. – “Stop counting.” – he let out, pressing his hand over your mouth. – “It will only do more wrong.”

You shoved his hand off your mouth with a glare. – “I just like to know what I’m up against.” – you reminded him. You hated coming unprepared. – “Walkers. Dozens of them, maybe more.” – Daryl answered. You slapped him against the back of his head. – “Au.” – he quietly let out to not draw too much attention. – “I didn’t need your hard reality right now.” – you made clear.

“You wanted me to lie?” – he asked of you. – “Maybe.” – you said frantically. Unsure what you wanted in this kind of situation. Some snarling became louder, making you hide more behind the bushes. Daryl hid more as well, knowing some walkers might have been triggered by the voices. Daryl waited a few moments before whispering. – “If we want to reach the others before nightfall, we have to move now, sweetheart.”

He nudged you against your shoulder. You nodded shakily. Crawling backwards through the grass. Once you were far enough from the edge, you got up to your feet. Dusting your hands off from the dirt. – “So… so how do we this.” – you wanted to know, swaying nervously on your feet.

Daryl took your hand, taking a deep breath. – “It’s risky and I don’t think you are going to like it.” – he started. It made you look frightful up to him. Wondering what was going on in his mind. He smiled sheepishly back at you. He started to walk backwards, taking you with him.

It didn’t take long for the rotten stench of flesh to reach your nostrils. Between a few bushes laid a dead walker. In half as it’s intestines were spread out over the grass. You already had a clue of what he was thinking. Slowly backing away, but the grip on your hand made you unable to go far.

“No…no…” – you said, shaking your head. Daryl came closer to you, shushing you. – “It’s the only way Y/n.” – he told you. – “Daryl!” – you called out, pointing out that was ridiculous. – “I’m not wiping some blood and gore on my face!” – you shouted as Daryl came covering up your mouth. Checking his surroundings that they hadn’t drawn any attention.

“What other choice do we have? I’m not going to fight thirty walkers or more!” – he forced out. He slowly removed his hand from against your mouth with a nod. – “It will be alright, sweetheart. I’m with you.” – he reassured you. Letting his hands brush down your cheeks. Leaving a caring kiss on your forehead. Then a gentle on against your lips.

Slouching your shoulders with a sigh, you gave in. Daryl kissed your knuckles, before backing away. Crouching down to dip his hands in blood and gore. He then approached you. Smearing it out on your clothes. The stench coming with it, nearly made you gag. He apologized when his hand came near your face.

“Just do it.” – you let out, shutting your eyes. Feeling his hand touch your face. Leaving gore on your cheeks. The stench was almost unbearable. You slowly opened your eyes, seeing him return to the walker. Pick at his bowels.

Returning with a broken off one. – “Daryl!” – you shout-whispered in protest. – “Sorry sweetheart. I have to be certain.” – he responded laying the bowel over your shoulders. – “I can’t risk losing you to a hoard of walkers. I won’t watch you be torn to pieces so I have to be certain.”

You understood. Daryl returned to the walker to rub himself in blood and gore. Throwing a bowel around his neck as well. Motioning at you, he wanted you to follow him. You followed him down the hill towards the road. Eyes widening at the amount of walkers.

There were more than you ever imagined. Hundreds gathered around on the road in a swarm. Pacing around in the same space waiting for something to disrupt their mindless stage. Daryl had to swallow hard as well at the number. He hadn’t thought it would this many.

The woods had blocked out a lot of the hoard wandering the streets. He had expected fifty, but not hundreds. He took your hand with a firm grip. – “Slowly and quietly.” – he whispered to you. Making you nod with a soft hum in return.

Daryl took the first step, forcing you to follow. To get in motion to reach the first walkers. You swallowed nervously. The first walkers were wide enough apart to simply walk through without much effort. Some sniffed the air, opening and closing their jaws at nothing. Moving around till they settled once more.

Daryl kept a close eye on you. Bringing his finger to his lips to stay quiet. You nodded, pressing your lips together. Quietly you ventured forwards. Daryl guiding the way through the walkers without touching one. The  crowd became thicker.

Having less space to move around easily. A walker moved his head in your direction as you past it. It made you supress a yelp. It came snarling by your ear. Making you stand still and close your eyes firm. Daryl tugged on your hand, forcing you to move.

Opening your eyes once more. He reminded you to keep moving. Holding your hand even firmer. A walker came snarling loud, turning rapidly your way. You let out a soft yelp before covering up your mouth. The sound attracted the walker.

Making him bump against you. Coming closer to sniff you. Another walker came at your other side, sniffing you as well. Their teeth clattering hard against each other. Daryl watched the display, telling you to stay quiet. Sweat broke out.

One bumped against you as you couldn’t supress the sound coming out of you. It set off a lot of walkers. Making them turn their heads your way. – “Y/n!” – Daryl let out. Walkers bumping against him to reach you. He grabbed them by their shoulders, shoving them back. You were panicking hard. Alarming the walkers, yet they were confused by the smell.

Daryl started shoving walkers away from you. Taking your hand. Pulling you at him. Bumping against his chest, he wrapped an arm around you. Keeping you close as he kept shoving the other walkers out of the way. Their normal ways disrupted, yet settled down quickly from the smell.

Daryl quickened his pace, keeping you warm under his arm. – “Hang on Y/n.” – he said shoving a walker out of the way. They stumbled against another one. Snarling and growling loud at them. The other one growled in anger back. Daryl hurried up, making his way across. Leaving the hoard of walkers behind him with a pant.

“You okay Y/n?” – he asked. You were trembling on your knees. Nodding shakingly. Daryl sighed relieved, pulling you close to his chest. Feeling how your body suddenly started to shudder. Shudder as you were crying. Crying from the panic attack you had. – “It’s over Y/n. It’s all over now…” – he reassured you. Throwing an arm over your shoulder. – “Let’s meet the others.” – he said. You nodded, glad to be in his save arms.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[luvvictoria]

The chaotic Valentine

+ pairings. johnny "soap" macavish x f!reader

+ tags. romance, comedy, soap.

+ summary. Soap planned the perfect Valentine’s evening—romantic dinner, flowers, and a cozy night together—but everything spectacularly fell apart.

Soap had a plan.

And, in theory, it was a damn good plan.

Cook a nice dinner, surprise you with flowers, maybe even put on some music—something smooth, something that would make you melt right into his arms. He’d sweep you off your feet, have you looking at him all starry-eyed, and by the end of the night, well… he had plans for that, too.

Except, well. Things didn’t exactly go that way.

It started with the dinner.

Soap wasn’t a terrible cook. He could handle the basics—fry an egg, toast some bread, maybe even throw together a decent meal when the occasion called for it. But tonight, his luck had run out. And it had run far.

The steak? Burnt to a crisp. Not just a little overdone—no, this thing looked like it had been recovered from a house fire. It was blackened through, a tragic husk of what once could have been a beautiful, medium-rare masterpiece. The potatoes? Somehow both undercooked and charred, as if defying the very laws of cooking. And the sauce—well, the less said about the sauce, the better. It had started as a creamy garlic butter reduction and ended up as something resembling hot tar.

Then came the fire alarm.

Smoke curled from the pan in thick, ominous tendrils, slithering up to the ceiling with malicious intent. The smoke detector, sensing an emergency (which, to be fair, it wasn’t wrong), shrieked to life like a banshee.

"Shite—hold on, love, I got it!" Soap yelped, grabbing a dish towel and frantically waving it at the alarm like a man possessed. His other hand flailed toward the stove, turning off burners at random as if that might somehow undo the disaster he had just orchestrated.

You stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, watching the chaos unfold.

And then, despite yourself, you laughed.

It started as a small chuckle, but the sight of Soap—his face smudged with something suspiciously dark, his hair slightly singed at the ends, wildly swinging a dish towel as if he were fending off a swarm of bees—was too much. You doubled over, giggles wracking your body as tears pricked your eyes.

"Johnny," you choked out between gasps for air, "please tell me that’s not our dinner.”

He shot you a look, somewhere between defeated and desperate. "...Might’ve gone a bit wrong."

You tried—really, really tried—to keep a straight face, but the combination of the smoke still lingering in the air, the fire alarm’s dying beeps, and Soap’s entire existence in this moment had you biting down a laugh.

And then came the flowers.

A bouquet, hastily pulled from behind his back, slightly crumpled from what was probably an ill-advised last-minute grab at the store. They were lovely, truly, except… well.

They were lilies. The funeral kind.

You raised an eyebrow, inspecting them with barely concealed amusement. "You do know these symbolize mourning, right?"

Soap blinked. "What? No, they—" He frowned, looking down at the petals as if they had personally betrayed him. "Aw, bollocks."

The sheer defeat in his voice sent you over the edge. You snorted, barely stifling your laughter as you took the flowers anyway. "It’s the thought that counts, Johnny."

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah, well, my thoughts can piss right off tonight."

At this point, it should have been clear that fate had it out for him, but the universe wasn’t quite done yet.

Somewhere between trying to salvage the mood with soft music (which, of course, refused to play properly, stuttering between static and some godforsaken remix of ‘Careless Whisper’), and him tripping over his own feet when he went to grab a drink, the night took another unexpected turn.

One moment, you were teasing him, his ears red from a mix of frustration and embarrassment. The next, you were outside—bundled in his jacket, your boots crunching in the fresh layer of snow.

"Alright, alright, laugh it up, sweets," he grumbled, watching as you doubled over, clutching your stomach from sheer amusement. "Glad I could be your entertainment for the evening."

"Oh, Johnny," you gasped between giggles, "I love you, but this might be the worst date in history."

"Oof," he clutched his chest, mock-wounded. "Right through the heart, that one."

"You’ll live."

"Aye, but will you?"

You barely had a second to register the challenge in his voice before a solid snowball smacked against your shoulder.

"Soap!" you shrieked, whipping around to see him grinning like an absolute menace.

"That’s what you get for slandering my efforts!"

Oh, it was on.

Without hesitation, you bent down, grabbing a handful of snow and launching it straight at his chest. It hit dead center, sending little flakes scattering across his hoodie.

"Oh, you cheeky—"

Before you could react, Soap lunged, tackling you straight into the snow. A squeal escaped you as the world tilted, cold powder flying up around you as he rolled you beneath him.

The impact wasn’t harsh, cushioned by the fresh snowfall, but it still knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, blinking up at him as he hovered over you, his weight pressing you into the ground.

His breath came out in soft, misty puffs against the crisp night air. His blue eyes, always so full of mischief, gleamed as they roamed over your face, his grin still lingering—but softer now, tinged with something else.

Warmth, affection… hunger.

Your chest rose and fell beneath him, and you huffed out a breathless laugh. "Alright, I surrender. You win."

But Soap didn’t move.

He just looked at you—really looked at you. The teasing melted away, something deeper settling into the space between you. His hands, still warm despite the cold, slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing over your ribs, slow and deliberate.

"Maybe," he murmured, voice rough. "But I still think I owe you, sweets."

The air shifted.

The playfulness was still there, lingering beneath the surface, but it had taken on a different edge—something heavier, something that sent warmth curling low in your stomach despite the icy ground beneath you.

His fingers traced higher, over the fabric of your sweater, over the dip of your waist, as he leaned down, his nose brushing yours. You could feel his warmth, his presence everywhere.

"Johnny…"

"Shh," he murmured, lips ghosting over yours, just barely there. "Let me make it up to you, aye?"

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down, his lips grazing yours—featherlight, teasing—before sinking into a kiss that stole the breath straight from your lungs. His weight pressed into you, solid and burning, even as the snow beneath you bit into your skin. His hands roamed, leaving trails of warmth where his fingers slipped beneath layers of fabric, tracing, teasing, claiming.

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the way his lips ghosted over your jaw, down the slope of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"You’re freezing," you whispered, barely able to get the words out as a full-body shudder overtook you.

Soap hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. "Aye, well." His voice was a low, wicked murmur, laced with something that sent heat pooling in your stomach. "Guess we’ll just have to warm up, won’t we?"

And warm up you did.

By the time you made it back inside, your cheeks were flushed, your breath coming in ragged little gasps, and Soap—Soap had that grin. That devastating, up-to-no-good, you’re-in-for-it-now grin.

You barely had a second to regain your bearings before he was on you—tangling you up with him on the couch, hands greedy, mouth eager, his body slotting against yours like he was made to fit there. His fingers skimmed under your sweater, slow but insistent, drawing out every little reaction like he had all night to unravel you.

"Still think this night was a disaster?" he murmured, lips brushing over your skin between kisses, his voice edged with laughter, with promise.

You barely had the breath to answer—not when his hands were pressing, coaxing, burning—but as you clutched at him, your laughter tangled between stolen kisses, the answer was obvious.

Not in a million years.

[aheckinmess]

Redamancy: A Mighty Valentine's Day

Part of @prominencesmashers Valentine's gift exchange! @actuallysaiyan was my valentine! I hope it fills your heart with so much joy!

Read on AO3.

Tags: Toshinori Yagi, All Might, Smol Might, Small Might, Reader, All Might-centric, Fluff, A Little Angst, And Everything in Between!, Nemuri Kayama Mentioned, Shouta Aizawa, Eraserhead, Hizashi Yamada, Present Mic, Thirteen Mentioned, All Might x Reader, Present Mic x Thirteen, The Three Dumbigos Included, Toshinori is Bad at Feelings, 5 + 1 fic, The five times Toshinori tried to confess his feelings to you, + the 1 time he succeeded, Gift Fic, Prominence Smash Valentine's Day

Word Count: 4,200 words

Summary: Valentine's Day is right around the corner, and Toshinori wants to admit his feelings for you before it's too late! Though he's got the spirit, he'll quickly learn that life knows how to throw some unexpected curveballs. Does that stop the Symbol of Peace? Absolutely not. OR The 5 times Toshinori tries to confess his feelings to you, and the one time he succeeds.

Author's Note: I've given the reader the name "Yin" (for, Your Name) and "Lyn" (for, Last Name) because I think it looks better than writing "Y/N," "L/N," "Name," or any other alternatives.

Attempt No. 1

All Might can do anything.

No matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent, All Might perseveres and always comes out on top with a mighty fist raised high. 

Toshinori, on the other hand, is beside himself trying to wrangle the tangled knot of feelings in his chest. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner and he’s determined to ask you out before Snipe tries pulling out his rugged cowboy charms on you.

Considering he has zero experience with women and little to go off of aside from Midnight’s salacious soliloquies, he opts for a more classical option: flowers – which is why he’s currently thumbing through a bouquet catalogue with the local florist.

“And you said this one will be sure to catch her attention?” He points in the catalogue at a colorful arrangement themed with red, white, and pink flowers. 

“Oh, certainly!” The lady beams as she ties a bow around the stems of another bundle. “She’ll know what you’re trying to say for sure. This bouquet is well known in this area as the Matchmaker.”

“It is? Perfect! I’ll take these then.”

. . . . .

Toshinori sets up a time for the two of you to meet in the park as the venue for his timely confession. The wait for the bouquet isn’t bad, but actually having it in his hands prompts the Symbol of Peace to start pacing. Over and over he runs through what he’ll say, fumbling over his words even as he mutters them to himself. After a few moments, however, he’s worried he’ll ruin the bouquet and takes deep, cleansing breaths to center himself and pause.

Just be honest, like Aizawa said.

By the time he makes it to the meeting place in the park, he’s at his wit’s end. Facing villains suddenly seems much easier than this.

“Hello, my dear.” He plasters on a smile as his hands shake around the bundle of flowers behind his back. “I’m glad we could meet today.”

“Toshinori! I’m glad, too! It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper hang out.” The way your face lights up erases every single thought and essay he’d prepared this morning and the night prior. “What’s that you’ve got behind you? Is it a present for me?”

“Yes! W-Well, it’s nothing much. Just–”

BOOM!

An explosion rattles the ground beneath you both and screams in the distance send All Might on autopilot. If only he could think to hand you the damn bouquet in the meantime. 

But no. Instead, his fist tightens around it as he turns to you with frantic, blue eyes.

“Don’t move! Stay safe right here and I’ll go check it out!” He instructs.

The flowers disintegrate the moment he zooms in the direction of the blast, two blocks over. With a growl, he leaves them crumpled in the nearest blue bin as he sets his sights on the large bank robber sporting a hockey mask and massive paws. 

“You look like you could use a full serving of justice !” All Might laughs, whizzing over to the bank thief in record time, hoisting him up by the collar.

“A-All Might?! What are you doing in this district?!” The man squirms in the No. 1 hero’s grasp.

“My ears are always alert to the sound of villainy, no matter the distance!”

The bank robber is quickly subdued, as well as his lackeys trickling out of the bank behind him. By the time the cops arrive, a large group of grateful bank tellers and gawking civilians gather to watch their Symbol of Peace usher the culprits into the back of a police cruiser.

“Your finances are secure now…because I am here !” He grins wide while sporting a thumbs up.

When the cameras begin flashing, All Might knows he has to make a quick escape if he wants to conserve energy. “Thank you all for your continued support!”

In a flurry of wind, he jumps up to find the park again and stares at his empty palm. Damn. So much for the bouquet. His eyes land on the park and he drifts closer to the ground when another scream fills his ears.

“HELP!” A voice shrieks another block over. “Somebody help me!” 

Adjusting his course, All Might lands behind the offender, eyes glistening with determination and exuding a blue aura of menace as his feet stomp against the asphalt.

“Taking what doesn’t belong to you, hm? Looks like someone failed to teach you boundaries!” All Might’s dark smile paralyzes the fiend holding a stolen purse.

“All Might!” The victim chokes on a sob. “Thank you, oh, thank you!”

“Have no fear, ma’am. For I am here !” 

. . . . .

One hour turned to two until All Might’s watch flashes 12:00. He groans when he makes it back to the park and sees you’ve already left. To top things off, he’s used all but one hour of his energy, so he finds an alleyway to transform back to normal in a puff of steam. Shit.

He opts to walk home, having nothing else on the docket for the day and needing a much needed nap. On his way, he pulls out his cellphone.

I’m so sorry, Yin. Can we reschedule another meeting time and place? He sends the message all while kicking himself for the missed opportunity.

But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just leave others in harm’s way for a date. What might have happened if I hadn’t intervened? His mind wanders and worries until your text tone jingles in his ear.

Of course! I understand, Toshi. I had a meeting at noon, or I would have kept waiting for you. So don’t worry!

Toshinori sighs, both reassured and deflated at the sight of your message.

I’ll just have to set up another meeting and try to tell her again.

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

Attempt No. 2

“You’re trying to confess to Lyn?” Hizashi doesn’t know ‘quiet.’ He simply can’t help himself as he walks with Toshinori to the nearest arcade and whoops, “My MAAANN!”

“Shh! She’ll hear you!” Toshinori hisses, eying the arcade and feeling his ears ring. “Is there a subtle way I can let her know how I feel?”

“You’re talking to the King of Courting himself, Mr. Yagi!” Hizashi laughs. “But in all seriousness, it’s all about being honest and poetic. Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they’re…” Hizashi gestures for Toshinori to complete the phrase.

“...exquisite?” Toshinori rubs the back of his neck.

“No! Well, yes, but you’ve gotta dig deep, man! Her eyes aren’t just beautiful, they sparkle like a million stars! Her smile isn’t just radiant, it…”

“...puts the sun to shame?”

“Now you’re getting it!” Hizashi exclaims as they step into the glowing arcade. “Good luck, good buddy! Just speak from the heart.”

With a clap on Toshinori’s shoulder, Hizashi disappears towards a group that is unmistakably Aizawa, Kayama, and Shirakumo. Now, Toshinori is left to find you himself, so he takes a deep breath as his eyes skim the many different game systems while brainstorming different compliments to give you.

As soon as his eyes find you, however, all flirtatious comments vaporize from his mind. Not one coherent thought remains when you turn to him with a wide grin sporting an All Might dress completed with white leggings.

Ten silent seconds pass by, and then your cheeks turn rosy while he stands ogling like an oaf.

“I’m sorry. Is this too weird to you? I almost talked myself out of wearing it. I figured it was too weird or fangirly, but I’d been hoping it seemed more appreciative…”

“No, no! You look amazing! It looks better on you than it does on me!” Toshinori blurts, his own face exploding in shades of red. “N-Not that I’d wear that…I meant my colors…or um, ah. I-I just didn’t expect it to look so perfect on you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous now.” You snicker, finding him endearing. “Come on. Let’s go see if anyone has beaten our high score on Galaga.”

The bells and whistles of pinball machines mingle with speaker sounds of gunfire, space blasters, and racecars screeching around a pixelated track. As it turns out, you reach Galaga and a new set of initials sits at the top of the leaderboard.

“Oh, no way! This means war!” You pretend to roll up your sleeves before pulling back your hair and grinning up at Toshinori. “We’ll reclaim the title!”

“With your spirit and determination? It is impossible to lose!”

. . . . .

You’re far too gracious, in Toshinori’s opinion, when you type his initials as the “New High Score!” icon flashes celebratory gold. Even though he urges you to take credit where it’s due – he didn’t even touch the console! – you dismiss him with a wave and nudge his shoulder.

“What’s important is that we have fun together.” You laugh, leaning your head on his arm and looking up at him with wide, dazzling eyes. “Don’t you agree?”

Toshinori can’t possibly refute it. Just your expression alone clasps his heart in an iron-grip. He knows in that moment he would do anything for you; you make Toshinori feel just as valuable as All Might. 

Like he could do anything no matter how dire the situation, no matter how impossible the odds, no matter how strong his opponent.

You make him feel like living .

This is the moment. He’s sure of it.

“Yin,” He begins, clearing his throat. “Do you think maybe we could–”

“Oh my gosh, Yin! Hey!” A girlish voice screeches and suddenly he’s torn apart from you. 

The moment fades as a sinking feeling is ushered into his gut. Of course, he delights in seeing you so happy reuniting with some old friends, but he can’t help but believe he’s missed his chance. One glance around the arcade shows him an entire dating pool entirely in your league and out of his. Could you possibly even want him? 

“Toshi?” Your voice breaks through his spiraling internal monologue.

“Hm?”

“You don’t mind if I hang out with them for a bit, right? You can tag along if you’d like. It’s just been so long since I’ve seen them.” You reach across and squeeze his hand.

“You go have fun.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I have matters to attend to anyway, so it all works out. Be safe, wherever you decide to go.”

“Thank you.” You surprise him by rushing into his side for a swift hug. He can only stand there, semi-startled as he blinks and you pull back. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Likewise.”

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

Attempt No. 3

When you invite Toshinori out for a picnic three days later, he’s determined to suppress his feelings after two bitter failures. Or perhaps just letting his emotions bubble up to the surface naturally will yield better results than his previous two attempts?

That doesn’t mean Toshinori slacks in putting together his appearance, however. Normally wily locks of blonde hair have been tamed flat against his temple, complimented by a silky yellow button-up that accentuates his lanky frame. Pressed brown trousers lead into sleek dark loafers.

With one final look in the mirror and a glance at his watch, Toshinori hops up and down a few times to hype himself up before grabbing his phone, his keys, and starting a brisk jog to the beach. Come on. You’re the Symbol of Peace! You can have a cordial picnic with the woman you secretly adore.

Your blanket and large beach umbrella is impossible to miss on the searing sand. You’ve set up a dark wicker basket on a plaid blanket as you lay back in a lounge chair to soak up the sun. When you hear Toshinori approach, you crack open an eyelid with a shit-eating grin.

“Toshinori, you will never guess what I learned yesterday.”

Something about the way you’re looking at him prompts him to loosen another button on his shirt – or maybe he’s just winded from the jog over. 

“What’s that?”

You pull out a folder and open it, revealing a weathered news article with a picture of All Might face-planting into the streets of Shibuya. Immediately, Toshinori grimaces at the memory and turns to look at the ocean instead.

With a hefty sigh he grunts, “Okay, you’ve got your blackmail, what do you want?”

Laughter bubbles from your chest and you fall back against the lounge chair, pulling your sun hat over your face to muffle the snorting that follows.

“I don’t want anything!” You cackle. “I just thought it was funny! You’re always portrayed as this big hero who never misses a beat, never trips over his own feet; it’s nice to appreciate your humanity every now and then. I think it’s endearing. It makes you more approachable.”

“I’m not sure eating pavement would qualify as approachable.” Toshinori scoffs, taking a bite of strawberry as you both enjoy each other’s company.

“You don’t know that. Maybe someone with a really weird quirk out there has this very news clipping taped up in their room!” You taunt, ruffling his neat and tidy hair.

“Hey!”

“What? It’s too flat. I prefer it more when it’s a fluffy mess.” You shrug.

“I…wait, really?” He pats his hair and combs four large fingers through the wispy strands. “I didn’t know. I thought maybe I’d try to tame it since we were having a nice picnic – it seemed a formal enough occasion to me.”

“Toshi, I’ve seen you hold press conferences with a messier style.”

“Yes, but…I don’t know! I just wanted to see if maybe you’d like it better flattened down.” He grants you a smile. “But I’m glad you like it messy. It was starting to get suffocating.”

“No need to act out of your comfort zone for my sake.” You giggle, setting your chin on your palm as you smirk at him. “Though I’m flattered you did all of that for me.”

Toshinori meets your eyes and he wonders if he should seize this opportunity. This time, he just manages to open up his mouth when a gust of wind sends your hat flying across the beach and soaring towards the crashing waves.

“Ah! My hat!” You lurch up to run after it with Toshinori quickly taking point beside you.

Sand showers between the two of you as the hat glides and flutters on a different course every few seconds, always a fingertip away from your grasp. Toshinori nearly secures the prize when he trips and, in a fit of irony, lands face first in the sand.

He lifts his head, sputtering and spitting out grains of sand as you fall back, hat in hand, howling and holding your sides as you’re overcome with mirth. Once you calm down, belly still shaking with aftershocks of giggles, you help him blow out the remaining debris in his eyes.

“Thank you.” He exhales, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all while he dries his eyes on his shirt. “We speak of this to no one.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping this experience all to myself.”

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

Attempt No. 4

One week remains until Valentine’s, and Toshinori knows that if he wants to stand a chance in hell at getting heartfelt chocolates from you, he needs to step up his game. He’s tried flowers, he’s tried flirting, he’s tried a friendly outing on the beach, and now he’s got to resort back to basics again: dinner.

He follows the proper procedure, toeing the line between continued friendship and secret admirer as he holds your chair out for you and tells you how radiant you look this evening. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Toshi. This week has been insane and I need a good meal.”

Once he pushes your seat in, you roll your neck around and allow your muscles to relax and settle. The way your shoulders slump and your face smooths out leaves no question in Toshinori’s mind that tonight is the right decision.

“I’m glad to be of assistance. You’ve been looking overworked.” He admits, sipping from his water glass before the waiter comes to take his order. “Is there anything specific that’s been weighing on you? I-If you feel comfortable sharing, of course.”

You don’t miss a beat.

“Ugh, it’s just the kids have been crazy , lately. I swear there’s a full moon on the horizon.” You lean forward on the table as you invest yourself in the conversation. “Most of them are starting to understand press conference etiquette and I can see their progress. It’s just, I think they know the break is coming up and it doesn’t help that I’m at my wit’s end and getting burnt out.” 

Both of you pause as the waiter sets your orders in front of you. Toshinori waits for you to continue, except you’ve already dug into your meal. He chuckles when your eyes roll around in your head.

“I’m glad you like it. This place has udon that’s out of this world.”

“If I weren’t already so emotionally pent up, I would cry.” You admit between bites. 

Enraptured by your every word – and thoroughly impressed with his food – Toshinori sits across from you for an agreeable meal, offering himself as your ranting soundboard since you seem to need the release. Once he’s paid after dessert, the two of you stroll arm in arm towards your apartment. 

“I hope I didn’t steal the spotlight this evening.” Your hair curtains your blushing cheeks as you stare at your feet. “I didn’t intend to go on a whole tirade. You know you’re allowed to do the same thing with me, right?”

“Of course. My week has been amiable, and this week you needed me. So, I’m more than happy to be a safe place for you to fall.” He stretches a hand out to rest at your back, but clenches his fist as he thinks better of it and never makes contact. He stops outside your door while you fumble with your keys. “Have a good night, Yin. I,”  adore everything about you “hope you rest well and feel refreshed in the morning.”

As your gazes finally meet, unspoken tension crackles in the air. You rock forward on your toes and part your lips. Toshinori’s lashes flutter and cranes his neck toward you. Then, you tuck under his arm and squeeze him in a hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Toshinori. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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

Attempt No. 5

Empty cupboards and a scarcely filled fridge convince Toshinori to make a grocery trip after a fruitless search for eggs. The removal of the majority of his stomach might have shrunk his appetite, but didn’t erase it. He’s scouring the aisles when a flash of orange blossoms in his peripheral vision.

He lays eyes on a cute Valentine’s bear that he tosses into his basket without hesitation.

Hey, Yin! I was in town and figured I’d swing by, if that’s okay? I found something that made me think of you and I’d like to drop it off. Toshinori uses his white tee to clear the smudge from his screen as the grocery bags rattle on his arm.

Now free from the stuffy atmosphere in the store, he glides through the streets of Japan, bobbing and weaving through the clogged crowds in a race to reach your apartment. He’s just outside the door when your text tone chirps in his ear.

Hey, Toshi. I hate to tell you this, but I’m sick. Feel free to stop by if you’d like, but I don’t want you getting sick, too. Thank you so much for thinking of me!

Could this be it? His perfect chance to take care of you and demonstrate his affections, served up to him on a silver platter? Toshinori can hardly believe it, but he knocks on your door and steps inside anyway when you bid him to come in.

The pitiful display in front of him tugs at his heart, and he finds himself on autopilot when he sets down his grocery bags and strides over to press his palm to your forehead as you lay buried underneath a mountain of blankets on the sofa.

“You’re hot. Have you taken a fever reducer?” He chides, combing back a sweaty lock of hair. 

“Yeah, just a minute ago.” You reassure him, caressing his hand while leaning into his palm. “Don’t stay long if you don’t have to, Toshi, I can take care of myself. I don’t want to make you sick.” 

“Nonsense. I’ll be fine. I want to make sure you’re taken care of.” He tuts, shaking his head before remembering why he initially came in the first place. “Oh! That’s right, I’ve got something for you.”

He pulls out the orange bear with hearts sewn into his feet and a larger, matching heart tattooed into his tummy. The large golden text on his belly declares, “FUR-EVER YOURS.”

“Aww, Toshi! You didn’t have to do that.” You squeal, forgetting yourself for a moment and coughing so hard your chest aches. “Sorry about that. I love him. I’ll let you know what I name him when I’m coherent enough to give him a proper name.”

“I’m glad you like him!” Toshinori perks up, heading into your kitchen to search for tea-making equipment. “Would you like me to make you some tea for that cough?”

“That would be heavenly.”

You’re nearly fading when he returns with a steaming mug of ginger tea, complete with honey and lemon to help your, presumably, sore throat. Though your eyes fight to stay open, you have no problem taking the mug and setting it on the side table nearby.

“Thank you so much. I can’t stress enough how lucky I am to have you.” You sigh, readjusting your head against the pillows and succumbing to the heavy weight of your eyelids. “Lock the door behind you when you go, ‘kay?”

“I will.” He promises.

In another breath, you’re snoring, and since you appear fully submerged in your dreamland, he risks a kiss to your forehead before he leaves.

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

Attempt No. 6

Over the course of the month, it’s become obvious to you that Toshinori is interested in you. Well, at least, you think so. The bashful comments, attempted gifts, and overall pleasant moods and outings you’ve shared within these two weeks guide you to one, daunting and exhilarating conclusion: your affection for Toshinori seems like a mutual one.

So, with the might of a thousand suns and the determination of an Olympic gold medalist, you pour all of your efforts into making him one of the best, and only, heartfelt chocolates you’ve ever made. You try the recipe not once, not twice, but three times to make sure they’re as delectable as possible. 

By the time you make it to the staff room on Valentine’s Day, your stomach ties itself in knots as the limited number of females exchange their own chocolates. Recovery Girl has polite chocolate for everyone that’s wrapped in cute, pink little mesh bags. Thirteen offers some heartfelt chocolate to Present Mic with blushing cheeks over in the corner, while Midnight offers a small bag of cheese to Hound Dog. 

“You giving Toshinori some heartfelt chocolate, Lyn?” Aizawa asks and scares the shit out of you in the process.

“I’m…gonna try.” You hope you sound more confident than you feel.

“Good for you.” It’s as much encouragement as you’ll get from the erasure hero. “For what it’s worth, I’m hoping I’ll get some from the librarian.”

“Oh, really? How sweet!” You beam, before turning to find Toshinori. “I’m going to go find–eep!”

The tall behemoth in question stands in front of you, blonde hair wily and fluffy as always. A plot twist you hadn’t expected? In his hands, he holds his own package of chocolates.

“Yin,” He greets you. “I know it’s not traditional for the guy to give chocolates until next month but…” He extends the small package of chocolates with shaky fingers. “I hope you’ll accept this as an expression of my affections.”

You accept the package and exchange it for your own, wrapped in his signature colors. He takes it and your smile illuminates the room so much it could be a new point of orbit.

“I have some for you too, Toshinori. I wanted to make sure they were perfect for you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for some time, but it never felt like the right time.” You confess, looking away.

His large hand comes under your chin to make you look at his luminous eyes, blue and twinkling in the light from the window. 

“I guess the right time found us, then.” He laughs, glancing down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “May I?”

“Please.”

Your hand comes up to rest on his chest like it was always meant to be there. His thumb caresses your neck so tenderly, as though he’s done it a thousand times before. Electricity sparks between the two of you even before your lips ever touch, and the world falls away in a swirl of desire and unrestrained need. 

In the quiet sanctuary of Toshinori’s cubicle, after immense effort and copious failed attempts, you both indulge in the shared reward of a final, successful confession.

[ierofrnkk]

So… puppy little sad Steven alone in Valentine’s Day Jorking off while crying pathetically

I mean Steven and valentines!

Ana you sly devil, you……

of course hehehehe

Maybe Next Year

Steven Grant (~800)

Summary: Steven’s alone on Valentine’s Day again this year.

Tags: 18+! Masturbation (male), brief mention of porn, crying, Steven crying a lil while he’s jerking off, dacryphilia (?) if you squint, slight angst bc Steven is lonely

a/n: yeah yup. uh huh.

——

Valentine’s Day. The day of love, or, more accurately: the day that everyone else is in love and seemingly enjoys shoving it into every single person’s face.

Needless to say, Valentine’s Day is not Steven’s favorite holiday.

Cheap, tacky red and pink hearts were plastered all over the museum, in every shop, even on the front door of his apartment building. The day seemed to mock him, the fact that he was painfully single was not forgotten that day.

He couldn’t even manage a date, not even for the night; not after the last dating fiasco, at least.

Steven’s night was arguably the most sad in all of London; he picked up some dinner for himself—a little vegan wrap from the corner shop that he’s grown quite fond of—and spent his evening at home, alone.

He tried whatever he could to make himself feel better, but nothing really worked as well as he’d hoped it would.

He read some books, spoke to Gus for a while, even put his favorite show on the TV, but all of it made him feel that much more alone.

He even resorted to watching some porn, hopefully something in his favorite rotation of videos would help him feel a little less lonely. He clicked through a few videos, the super-secret ones, the ones with the soft voices full of praise and far-too attractive women.

The sight of everything, of course, garnered the reaction that tends to happen when you watch porn alone in your room.

He was already pretty hard, and figured there was no time like the present to take care of it—not like he had anything else planned for the evening.

The last video had begun playing by the time he slid his hand beneath the elastic of his sweatpants and boxers, though Steven wasn’t paying much attention to what was on the screen.

His eyes, for the most part, were either closed or focused up onto the ceiling as he took his aching cock into his hand, stroking himself slowly.

It was nice, obviously, but not exactly how Steven wanted to spend another Valentine’s Day.

Alone, in his room, jerking off.

He worries his lower lip between his teeth as he continues, having established a pace with his hand that he knew would get him to finish quickly.

The thought that this is what he’s doing, while everyone else he knew was on a date—at the very least, out somewhere with the potential to score a date, or even get laid.

He twists his wrist, focusing the slightest bit more attention on the sensitive, leaking head of his cock. He knows that it won’t be very long until he’s finished.

As if he didn’t feel pathetic enough, he can feel the ache in his chest, the stinging pinpricks of tears in his eyes as he continues to think about everything that’s gone wrong in his life, leading up to this point.

His eyes are wet with tears, now, rolling from the corners of his eyes down the sides of his face as he lays back with his head against the pillow.

The two sensations are warring within him—the increasing tension, the heat in the pit of his stomach as he works himself closer and closer, and that empty ache in his chest, leading him to cry because he’s feeling so terribly alone.

The last video’s finished by this point—not like he was watching it anyways—the room relatively quiet besides the sound of his breathing and the muted noise of the city through his windows.

Steven can feel himself getting closer, the coil in his stomach tightening further and further as he strokes himself, imagining what it might be like to have somebody else do this for him, for a change.

It doesn’t take much after that for him to find his climax, spilling his release all over his hand and a bit on his stomach.

The labored breaths as he comes down morph into soft, shaky inhales as the surge of emotion combined with the intense feeling prove to be too much for him to handle.

This, he feels, is the lowest point in his life.

After taking a few moments to collect himself—at least somewhat—he sits up in bed, grabbing a few tissues to clean himself up and tossing them in the bin next to his bed.

He shuts his laptop, gets dressed in his coziest clothes—a sweater that’s far too big for him, and some warm flannel pants—and settles himself onto the couch in front of the TV once again, snuggling up with the soft pillows and comfy blankets.

Maybe, he thinks. Maybe next year’ll be better.

Thank you for reading!

tags: @faretheeoscar @howellatme @winniethewife @midgardian-witch @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame @silvernight-m @ominoose

[the-kr8tor]

inhales

For the holiday request, may I request Hobie getting a Lego set as a Valentines gift and he and R build it together? (Bonus points if it leads to playful chaos)

(Also, building a Lego set is so fucking hard when the pieces are so tiny 🥲)

- 😅

I hope you like it!!! I've never built a lego set before so I hope this was ok

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff!

Navigation

After an eventful Valentine's day filled with stove mishaps and villain attacks, you and Hobie decided to lounge and relax on the shared bed with his valentine gift that he always wanted ever since he was a little punk— a lego set. And not just any lego set, a lego replica of his very own guitar. Minus the numerous well loved stickers of course, and the dents and scratches. That's a Hobie trademark that no one can replicate.

Hobie has carefully laid out every piece in different piles on the bed based on which part they belong to. Tiny multi colored blocks all taking up space on the bed as you watch him near the headboard while sipping on your nightly tea. You admire him in the yellow lamp of the room, his brows are knitted together in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking in between his lips as he reads the booklet full of instructions. He's in his checkered pajamas that matches your own but in red instead of the bright baby blue you have on. And his band shirt fits loosely on his torso, giving you a peek of his lean stomach and chest.

“Can I help now?” You ask, gazing at him from the rim of your warm cup.

“Not yet, lovie, ‘m still figurin’ out all the parts.” He says, glancing at you briefly. Oh he's in too deep in the lego building brain.

You make a mental note of finding more obscure lego sets he might like. “Can't believe I'm losing you to a guitar made of plastic bricks.” Sighing like you're forlorn, a smile spreads across his lips as he puts down the manual.

“C’mere then.” Beckoning you over, he gestures for you to settle next to him, which you immediately place the mug down to crawl over the pieces to get to him at the other end of the bed. You hug him, face planted on his shoulder blade. “You're too good at gift givin’, lovie.”

You hum against his skin. “Says the one who got me rare vintage beads for my bracelets.” Nuzzling close, you tug your legs and fold it beside you as he pats the side of your thigh lovingly. “I'm gonna make you one by the way.”

Hobie tilts his head to you, light bouncing off his lip piercing. “Yeah? You gonna make it pretty for me?”

Lifting your head, you stare at him through your lashes as you smile back at him. “Only the prettiest.” You grasp at his chin gently, pulling him close for a kiss. He raises a playful brow but reciprocates the kiss wholeheartedly. His calloused fingers brush along your jaw, reluctantly pulling away with a resounding smack. Fluttering your eyes open, you suddenly remember something. “I have to take a picture of you!”

“In a bit.” He takes your chin in between his index and thumb, bringing you close to him until he's properly kissing you as if the last one wasn't proper enough for him. You still taste of chocolates and your herbal tea.

Pulling away with a longing sigh, his half lidded eyes makes you want to stay and push him down on the mattress. “I'll get the camera.” But alas, you haven't missed a single milestone that you haven't taken a picture of and even his bedroom eyes won't stop you. It did make you double back for another kiss as his fingers linger on your hip before you bolt to get the camera.

The bed dips and Hobie chuckles and watches you practically skip over to the shelf filled with your knick-knacks. His head tilts to the side, pressed atop his shoulder as he unabashedly oggles you.

You turn around and see him smile sweetly at you, eyes conveying only love. Without a second thought, you snap a picture of his smitten face, the flash lightens the room briefly as the camera whirrs and prints the polaroid. You no longer etch it in memory but now forever saved on paper. Now you have proof of the big bad punk being all lovey dovey. But this one is for your eyes only.

“Happy?” He asks, playfully and genuine at the same time. Asking if you're happy about today and happy that you've finally snapped a picture of him longing for you.

“Very happy, Hobie.” Your answer is for both questions.

Sauntering back to bed, your knees hit the mattress as he wraps his arm around your waist, palm casually sliding underneath your sleep shirt and feeling how warm he is against you. Taking the printed picture and shaking it briefly before slipping it in between your fingers, he gives you a lopsided grin for another picture. You beam at him, taking another photo of him with the piles of lego laid right next to him.

The photo develops and he reaches up to take this one, shaking it briefly as you admire the other one in your hand.

“I look mighty fit innit?” He smugly asks, tugging you close until you're kneeling on the bed. You hum in agreement, eyes glued on the first picture of him. “You've got the real thing right ‘ere, love.” Plucking the polaroid, you feign an offended gasp as you brace yourself on his shoulders. “Let's take another with you in it this time, yeah?” Pulling you close with his hand sliding up between your shoulder blades, he peppers your cheeks with kisses while you giggle.

Hobie takes the camera from your hands and shoots at an angle while he's kissing your cheek while you give a happy grin with your eyes closed and smiling. He doesn't check whether he captured the scene perfectly as he places it down on the bed together with the lego set to return to kissing you once again.

“What about building the guitar?” You say, in between his affectionate kisses.

Hobie leans slightly away, eying the pieces and back to you. Then he glances at the instruction manual again then over to your shining lips. He taps your thigh, taking your leg by holding onto the back of your knee gently and placing you on his lap. “Maybe later.”

You guess there won't be any lego building today. “I thought you were excited for it.” Leaning down, the pieces fall down next to him, sharp bits pushing on his side, arm unconsciously shielding you from harm.

“I am, just wanna hold you, love. The legos can wait.” His hand brushes along your back, then pushes you carefully down to meet with his waiting lips.

“No true nerd can ever say those words, Hobie. It's practically sacrilegious.” You joke against his soft lips as he kisses you slowly like he's savouring the moment.

Pulling away, his eyes narrow at you. “So no snoggin’ then? Who are you and what have you done to my lovie?”

Giggling, you pull him up with your hands on his jaw and smooching each smile lines on eyes and the side of his lips, teasing him completely. “I just thought…” kiss, “that the legos come first before the snogging would start.” Kiss.

“I know, I've got impulse issues.” Whispering, the clattering of plastic bricks takes his attention. You pull away to laugh against his clavicle. All the face eating has his previously neat pile all ruined, but at least the bricks are still on the bed.

“We ruined all your work!” Giggling, you don't make a move to lean away from him. Instead, you fully drop yourself atop him to hug his torso as best as you can in the position.

With one fond look from you while your chin is on top of his chest, Hobie decides to abandon the toy. For now at least.

“Floor time then.” His arms wrap around you, legs looping around your waist as your eyes widen.

“Hobie!” Your amused shriek echoes around the flat as he rolls down from the bed to the floor and drops down with you while he takes the brunt of the fall. All without breaking the kiss.

Banners by @/cafekitsune

[yumeaoka-chan]

Maybe It's Canon...

My hand slipped...? Blame @the-kr8tor @hyperfix-wip and @pleaktale for not stopping me😭🤚 Also credit to Bleaky for the ask sent to Katy. Lovely banners made by @cafekitsune ❤️

Pairing: Ekko x Reader x Hobie Brown/ Prowler! Ekko x Reader x Spider-Punk! Hobie Brown

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Angst, hurt/ no comfort (straight up bad times, man), fighting(im still bad at writing fight scenes), blood, no physical description of reader, can be read as any gender really, TW death

Summary: In every universe, you fall for them. Sometimes, it doesn't end well.

Blood rushes in his ears as he holds you close, senses buzzing and sensitive hearing picking up the way your heart thrashes like a battering ram inside your chest. Frigid air whips your face, tears from the sharp gusts of wind slipping from your eyes as you gasp, trembling like a leaf from being up so high.

“‘S alright, love,” Hobie breathes out, pulling you away from the ledge of the sky-scraping tower, arms firmly wrapped around you and thumbs rubbing circles against you. “‘M gonna get you down from ‘ere. Promise.” His bones still feel like it's rattling from Electro’s shocks, fingers twitchy and body aching and ribs creaking. But he had to get you to safety first. After everything you've done to ensure his win against the electric powered villain, he had to make sure you were safe. With a jerky nod, you blink away the stinging tears, face as cold as ice due to the blistering London winds.

Just as he goes to launch a web at an opposite building, his senses suddenly go haywire. Only giving him enough time to snap his head in the direction of danger before a sharp pain blooms across his ribs, breath leaving him in a whoosh as he's slammed onto the ground away from you. Your frightened cry rings in his ears as he pushes back at the force that had rushed him, rolling himself into a crouch as he whipped his head up to glare at the newcomer. A frustrated snarl forming on his lips beneath his mask, Hobie narrows his eyes at the flash of purple and green.

“Ain't the time, Prowler”, he snaps, eyes darting over to your shaking form, seeing as you latch yourself to the glass skylight windows of the tower. Your chest heaves as you try to regulate your breathing, watching with trepidation and worry as the Prowler stands up. Claws of his mechanical gauntlets gleaming under the light of the full moon, glowing white eyes of his purple mask sharp and narrowed. He points a clawed finger at the web head, voice deep and masking any resemblance of something human.

“You had time to fuck up my plans. I can spare a few minutes to kick your ass, insect.” Hobie scoffs, eyes focused on the way the thief circles around him like he's prey. He might as well be, what with his mind solely focused on protecting you, getting you out of this mess as quick as possible.

“Arachnid, P. ‘Sides, it ain't my fault you can't plan your heists at a better time.”

“Always a joke with you… Too bad I ain't laughing”, Prowler spits out lowly, the hairs on the back of your neck rising as you watch him shift into a defensive stance. Eyes drifting over to Hobie, you shake your head, hoping and praying that he understands that you don't want him to fight. Not this time. Your silent pleas are met with a firm shake of his head, Hobie throwing his battered guitar to the side and crouching lower, dashing any hope you have about no violence. It's silent then, nothing but the harsh winds whistling in your ears. The two men watch each other closely, muscles coiling beneath the skin as they ready themselves to spring into action. Everything that happens is a blur then.

Quick on his feet, Prowler dashes towards Hobie, swinging his fist at him once he nears the web head. The punk easily dodges the blow from his left, backing away from a hit from the right. A hand comes up to block the knee to his stomach before he drops down, sweeping a leg out to trip the thief. Falling down from the sudden sweep, the clawed man is quick to use the momentum from the fall, spinning his body on the ground and delivering a harsh kick to the masked hero's face. Hobie groans as the Prowler flips, standing up and rushing him once more. He delivers an onslaught of punches and kicks to the web head who weaves away from every blow before lifting his leg up high and bringing it straight down towards the punk's head in a mean axe kick. Hobie manages to sidestep away from it at the last second, moving forward and bringing up a hand to catch the thief's leg. Lifting up a fist to hit Prowler in the chest and right before he can kick his leg from underneath him, the masked thief suddenly grabs him by the shoulders. Clamoring onto him and wrapping his thighs around his head, they both tumble to the ground.

You watch as they exchange blow after harsh blow, watch as they somehow stumble closer towards your little safe haven called the skylight. Heart feeling heavy with slight dread as you see Hobie get punched so hard that you can hear the stuttered gasp of pain leaving his lips. Prowler yells angrily as he swipes his claws down over the webslinger's chest, bits of red spandex clinging to the sharp metal. Hobie hisses as pain blossoms, body still heavy from the previous fight and strength wanning. A mechanical fist collides into his nose and if his brain wasn't rattling inside of his head right now, he would have sworn he heard a distinct crack. A cry of terror sounds in his ear as his back collides with something cold, something breaking beneath the combined weight of him and the man leering above him. Another blow rains down on his nose, which he for sure knew was broken by now. Then another, making his head snap to the side, blood welling up behind his now swollen eye.

“That's all you had in you, Spider-Man”, Prowler hisses before delivering yet another blow to the downed man's face, name leaving his lips like a curse. “What happened to being the best, huh? This'll teach you to stay outta my way…!”

Hobie's head is swimming as punch after punch lands on his face, eyes rolling behind his mask as he tries to get up. He has to get up. It doesn't matter if his ribs were for sure fractured by Electro earlier, it doesn't matter if he could barely seem to move a finger. All that mattered was keeping you safe, living to make it back home and spending time with you and Ekko. The two people he loved more than anything. He could hear you, hear as you cried out for Prowler to stop, begged for any semblance of mercy for his sake. It broke his heart, hearing the fear for his life that he's unfortunately instilled in you. And, suddenly, the raining of blows cease, Hobie cracking open heavy eyes to blearily peer up at the man causing him harm. The Prowler's fist is raised up high, shaking with restraint as his head is turned towards you. You, whose standing up on shaky legs on the skylight, tears streaming down your face as you sniffle.

“W-What… What did you just call me…?” The thief let's out breathlessly, whatever you said having caused him to tremble as he speaks his words. Wiping at the tears you take a shaky step forward and Hobie lets out a jumbled slew of words, protesting your advancement towards danger.

“Please stop, Ekko… That's Hobie…” You choke out and it makes the pain he feels almost instantly go away. Because what in the world did you mean, calling the thief Ekko? Ekko…? There was just no way that could be true. Glowing white eyes now boring down at the injured man beneath him, Prowler lifts a trembling clawed hand up towards the hem of the webslinger’s mask, and Hobie can't even find it in him to stop him as it's pulled up and off of his head.

“N-No”, Prowler chokes before ripping his own mask off of his face. Hobie's met with familiar hazel brown eyes boring into his own and his breath leaves him. Twisted white locs falling over his face as he gently cradles the punk's face within his mechanical claws, Ekko has tears shining in his heartbroken gaze. And then, before he could utter a word, before he could try to figure out how exactly you figured out his identity, the glass beneath you three cracks. Everything seems to happen in slow motion then.

A gasp leaves your lips as you fall through the shattering remains of the skylight, air whipping past you as you tumble down the tower. Hobie and Ekko fall straight down, bodies bumping and landing on hard metal beams. Eyes darting around, looking for you, widening once they see you falling. In the last moments of your life, you gaze at the two men you hold dear, reaching for you, yelling out your name in horror. Tears slip from your eyes as you smile at them, your deadly descent never slowing. They're diving to you, fingers so far from brushing against your own. As a last resort, Hobie shoots out a web, hoping, praying to anything out there that it reaches you in time. It looks like a tiny hand, you think to yourself as you gaze at them lovingly. It latches just as you reach the hard floor of the tower and Hobie's heart thuds so loud within his ears that he can barely hear anything else.

He got you. He made it in time. You'd be okay. That's what he tells himself repeatedly as he and Ekko finally reach the bottom, his hands yanking away the web and holding you close. Hand cradling the back of your head, his mind doesn't register the slick warmth that seeps from it, smile on his pierced lips as he awaits for you to open your eyes.

“Love…”, he mumbles, russet brown eyes roaming over the serene look on your features. “Lovie…? Open your eyes for me, yeah? Can you do that, sweetheart…?” His sensitive ears can't seem to pick up your pulse, which he finds odd. Strange. You were okay. You were safe now.

“C'mon, darlin’. Jus’ open your eyes f'me and we can go home. Promise…” Hobie doesn't dare to look behind him, tunes out the sound of Ekko falling to his knees. When he sees that your expression never changes, that your face granted with serenity never wanes, he starts to trail his fingers down to your chest. Trembling as he searches for where your heart is beating. Because, of course, it was beating. Of course it was…

Oh…

Oh…

“No, no no… You can't do this to me”, Hobie whispers harshly, vision blurring and swimming as he lets out a choked sob, nose scrunching and face crumbling. Despair threatens to claw out his broken heart as he fervently shakes his head, fingers cradling your face. “C’mon, lovie, please. Please.”

The man behind him is sobbing loudly now, the sound rattling in his brain as Hobie holds you close against his chest, gripping your lifeless body like a lifeline. He couldn't breathe, breath coming out in heaving gasps as the tears streaked down his face, dripping onto your rapidly cooling skin.

“Don't fuckin’ leave me…” His sobs rattle in his chest as reality finally sets in. You're gone. He didn't make it in time. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he lays your body down on the ground and stands. Legs wobbling, he falls onto his knees a moment after, chest aching and grief all consuming. Ekko takes his place, holding onto you and whispering apologies against your hairline. And as Hobie watches him, he no longer sees the man he loved and respected. No longer sees the man he cherished just as much as he cherished you. No longer does he see the man he wanted to spend an eternity with alongside you. No. All Hobie can see now is red.

[kwillow]

Not to yoink last Anon’s ask gushing about your stylization and each individual dynamics at play within depiction of their lineage but they’re 100% so right, god, it’s faBulously well done and you are BALLER at it LMAOO

Your tag joke about Theo failing to live up to the lineage ™️ made me wanna ask.

Outside of her motherly adoration (and the rose-tinted codependency glasses) while alive what actually were Jocosa’s thoughts on Theo’s contributions and long term lineage goals for him, say, in comparison to what her mother or father’s were for her?

Any previously living relatives distant or otherwise Theo might have somewhat cognizant memory of cohorting with at any point like the grandparents?

tickled by the thought Jocosa might’ve been at some point obliged by tradition/social responsibilities to have hosted a sort of public home mansion soiree dedicated to a teen Theo’s ‘coming of age’ presentation and having to somewhat laboriously nudge the stubborn teen into at least pretending he has the capacity to stand being in same room as his father or god forbid some other ceremonial father-son type ritual borne of patriarchal society.

ie: Well wishes handshake, Father-Son group attendance game hunting, Father publicly gifting the ‘new’ man a required acknowledgment item as show of mutual respect, etc…

Legacy and Expectations

In theory, what was expected of Jocosa and Theo by their parents was much the same. Be raised with lessons in history, etiquette and magic to maintain the family land and position, enter an arranged marriage, produce heirs to the lineage, etcetera. The difference is in how well that was accomplished.

Jocosa was raised with no illusions that she was anything other than a load-bearing branch on the family tree, primped and educated and trained to make her equipped to beget more branches and maintain the estate until the next generation would take over. She was married off almost as soon as she came of age and set to work on producing heirs. Obeisance was the primary trait expected of her and she learned very quickly to be silent, do as commanded and bide her time until she was the one who wore the crown.

Ideally, Jocosa wanted her son to follow in her footsteps. Uphold the family legacy, have children with a woman of her choosing, act in accord with tradition and continue to elevate the family name to its rightful position of dignity and power. Her love for him told her that he could do anything he set his brilliant mind to, and that is what she would insist to him. But she always knew he had issues.

Despite her genuine affection for him and respect for his intelligence, Jocosa understood that Theo was not the ideal heir. Beyond his physical problems, he was fast-tempered, terrible at diplomacy, ill-equipped to handle courtship, prone to fits of nerves and paranoia, and needed to be watched like a hawk around sharp objects. But perhaps with more of her guidance, more time, he'd be ready. Of course, she didn't get more time. Her health declined dramatically and Theo directed all of his attention towards helping her and trying to get her well again.

Some part of her saw how he took charge of her care, taking on the responsibility as readily as a knight at arms and thought here's the man I always knew you were. But she still had doubts, and a persistent fear that she was leaving him too soon, worried about what he'd do without her. She just had to hope he'd manage without her.

Well. That didn't work out as she hoped.

Theo's Immediate Family

His maternal grandparents were alive and living in the manor when he was a small child. They both passed away when he was still quite young, so his memories of them are vague. He has the (accurate) impression that they were not fond of him.

Theo's paternal grandparents, aunts and uncles are still around, but he never met them and wouldn't recognize them if he did (only hearing their last name would make him realize they were related).

"Coming-of-Age"

As for a coming-of-age presentation, even if his parents had planned on such a thing, being ejected from his school following The Incident put the kibosh on any public appearances for long while. After he was expelled from education, he spent the rest of his teenage years hiding in his room, unable to bear the humiliation of his failure and stress of social interaction. Jocosa didn't press him to leave the house out of concern for his wellbeing and a desire to let the scandal blow over before he showed his face in polite society again, while Leonard was content to just to try and forget about him for a while (if he had it his way, he would have sent Theo to an institution for some kind of treatment or just to be rid of him for a while, but the lady of the house refused that).

He only started leaving the house again in his twenties, to accompany his mother and father on their trips to the city and social events in an attempt to learn how to manage their business and affairs on his own once that became his responsibility (so much for that). So he did not have a grand "coming out," he just gradually started to become more and more of an unwelcome presence in the social scenes his parents were involved in as an adult. And then he disappeared from society again in his mid-twenties. Nobody missed him.

[oommmmmoo]

Not sure where to begin , scroll through the 3 au tags of the original Deusvervewrites post (preferrably using the /chrono version so each one starts with a 5+x bullet points summary)

Though for a bit how each one factors relevantly:

Expelled au starts with Eraserhead moving Izuku to Gen Ed Day 1 , while Ochako (and Iida but Ochakos the more relevant one) still tries to support him in her own way since well *he saved her life during the Entrance Exam* (or atleast did more than everyone else (including Iida funny enough) who just Ran Away).

Hero Abroad au starts with Izuku (and by association All Might) leaving Japan to go to America instead of the School Canon takes place at , thus throwing all of All for Ones (The Big Bad) plans/reveals and timelines out the G.D. window. When he finally CAN enact some of his Plans upon All Mights return 3 years later Izukus good enough and with enough Allies (Namely Americas No. 1 Hero) to kick his ass.

The main idea of Escaping Gravity au is 'Ochako is the daughter of The Big Bad with a version of his Quirk , but escapes during the chaos of the big 'All for One vs All Might' fight and is paranoidly (its not paranoia if they really are out to get you) homelessly on the run from The Big Bad and his Allies'. It also means she clocks Izuku as the current O.f.A holder immediately and so decides having him as a boyfriend an Ally is a priority (as pretty much only a O.f.A holder has a chance of taking her Sperm Donor out if he did live).

Hero Abroad combinations with Expelled just eliminate the whole 'Izuku left for America before School Started' part of Hero Abroad so the Expelled bit can actually work and focuses more on the 'Training in America' instead. This tends to make it that Ochako , in part of her 'support him for rescuing me' idea from Expelled and not wanting to deal with Eraserhead as a Homeroom Teacher for the next 3 years , ends up going to America along with him (the fact All Mights willing to cover the costs as thanks helps).

Enter USJ Arc (happening on like Day fucking 3 or 4 of School in Canon), which Debuts the L.o.V but more importantly introduces The Nomu, something that really only The Big Bad (/Allies) is capable of.

In regards to Escaping Gravity this confirms Ochakos Paranoia He Lived and is now making moves (and may or may not know where she is).

Result: Ochakos ultimate 'if its shit , hit da bricks' moment of the original post.

Expelled X Hero Abroad X Escaping Gravity: Izuku and Ochako won't be able to leave for America right away. There's lots of paperwork that needs done before they can leave.

In the meantime Ochako is still going to UA just in case this wonderful opportunity falls through. They should be ready to go by the end of the week. It's not like anything plot relevant is going to happen during… oh.

Well at least she was there to help deal with the Nomu. And she is very glad to be leaving the country now.

Fuck this shit they're out