#{ The first book was written when I was a little kid though so it's pretty bad. }

[clonerightsagenda]

How's Uglies holding up to modern rereading for you? I loved it as a kid, but nowadays I see it as an early entry in the YA dystopia boom that other books took formula notes from and refined down the line, making it feel a fair bit clumsier by comparison. Very fond memories, though, and I appreciate seeing the toxic yuri on my dash now that I'm old enough to appreciate it, lol.

It's holding up pretty well for me! I'll be honest - while I read The Hunger Games and Unwind, I never read Divergent or The Maze Runner, so I'm not entirely versed in the YA dystopia boom. I'm aware of the cultural construction of it though - world's specialest teen girl is the only one who can topple the government and lead a revolution. I'm not even sure how many of the actual series align with that stereotype (imo The Hunger Games is deliberately interrogating it) but anyway, some thoughts re: Uglies' position vis a vis dystopia stereotypes and just in general:

The love triangle is annoying, no arguments there, but it also ends more messily than I think the stereotype typically conveys. She 'chooses' one of them and then he dies as a direct result of her behavior, and she's not with-with the other at the end of the main series (and in the sequel series they've gone their separate ways).

Also, Tally is frequently a pretty unlikable person, which is a bold choice! She is not motivated by any pure intentions at the beginning - she's betraying a friend for her own gain - and throughout the series we see her wrecking that friendship over and over because, as Shay accuses her, she thinks she's the center of the universe. Shay hits every big milestone before Tally - Smoky, Pretty, Special - and it almost feels like prodding the limits of a close third POV, reminding us that there's isn't one single world's specialist teen girl. In the stereotypical version, Shay would be the scrappy rebel hero. Tally always needs pushes, and she's always screwing it up.

While it's obviously written for younger readers, the writing is effective. Like I said, Scott challenges himself to write the same POV three times with different levels of brain damage and pulls it off. He integrates made up slang in a way that doesn't feel too distracting (I really enjoy the way the princess sections in Pretties are written). In classic Scott fashion he brings back key ideas and phrases to hit you hard when it counts (informed consent, a special circumstance), and of course the whole final word of each book forming a circle is a fun little bonus. I'm glad this was written before the modern codifying of YA when it would be in first person.

The moral is obvious yeah but it's MG/YA and also props to Scott for predicting influencers in Extras. You also get the protagonist semi-aligning themselves with the antagonists' ideology at the end which is interesting, even if it again fits into a Western environmentalist assumption that humans can't live in peace with nature.

And finally, despite not being sporty at all, I still want a hoverboard.

[chronosbled]

{ I think this border is pretty nice to be honest, and I like the way it makes my icons look as well. }

[moonlightspencie]

This Ain’t for the Best

Description: Mutual pining. Classic hunting scenarios. Sharing a bed. Wearing the other’s clothes. Confessions. Friends to lovers. Tswizzle title. Need I say more?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn!Reader

Warnings: a little bit of violence, me cramming in every cliché i can because i love the classic fanfiction tropes more than i love breathing

Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: i was kicking my feet and giggling as i wrote this, especially when i snuck in criminal minds AND taylor swift references. i love writing and never beta-reading or editing what i’ve written. catharsis.

Crashing at Bobby’s had its benefits.

First, we had the comfort of knowing where we were going to sleep at night. It was good to have a bed waiting that wasn’t in a motel room.

Second, there was almost always good food around. I had a knack for home-cooked meals, and it was much easier to be appreciated for it when I actually had a stove to cook on.

Third, there were boundless opportunities for Sam, Dean, and I to kick back and actually relax.

That’s how I ended up in the kitchen, laughing with Dean over old stories we’d told a million times before. He reached in the fridge, pulling out two bottles after we’d come down from the most recent remembrance of an old case. He cracked open the top of his beer, then my drink, sliding it towards me on the counter. Sam and Bobby strolled in st that moment, pausing when they saw us.

“You both woke up like an hour ago,” Sam said, unamused.

“6pm somewhere,” Dean and I said in unison.

We looked at each other with a small laugh, leaving Bobby and Sam rolling their eyes. I took my drink and stood a few steps away.

“We should really get going, though, Dean,” Sam stated.

“Where?” Bobby asked.

“We were planning on doing a run to the grocery story. I don’t want us to eat up all your food without repaying you, and we’re almost out of beer,” Sam said, pointedly looking at his brother.

“This one needs more of those little fruity drinks, too,” Dean teased, nodding at the bottle in my hand.

“Hey, it’s still a malt liquor. Just one that I like,” I said with a laugh.

They said their goodbyes, and I started walking into the front room. Bobby watched the door for a few moment after the boys left, then turned in the archway and locked his gaze on me as I sat on the couch.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. “I know y’all are all about beer, but I can’t help if I prefer something with a little flavor.”

“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he grumbled, fed up with me already. “What in the world is goin’ on with you and Dean?”

“Huh?”

He furrowed his brow. “Don’t act all shy, now. You two have been flirting nonstop lately.”

“What’s new? We’re both pretty flirtatious in general.”

“Not like this,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t know the last time I saw that boy blushing, or you getting all flustered like a teenager.”

“I am not,” I scoffed. “Nothing’s happening, Bobby.”

“I’ve known your for five years, now, and I’ve known those boys since they were kids. You stayed in my house for a year, too. You can’t hide this kind of thing from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything. I’m an open book.”

Now, he scoffed. “Yeah, and I’m running for president.”

I rolled my eyes, taking another drink. He came closer, sitting down next to me.

“If you keep denying all this…”

I swallowed, finally resigning. “There’s nothing to do about it, Bobby.”

“Yes, there is. You could tell him.”

“It wouldn’t do any good. You know how he is, he doesn’t want to be tied down. If we don’t make any moves or promises or whatever, a lot less doesn’t get broken.”

He raised a brow. “I do know how he is. For you, he’d make an exception.”

“I don’t think so. Besides, it’s all just flirting for him. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Are you blind?”

I looked at him, brows raising. He shook his head, picking at the label on his bottle.

“Sorry. I just— I know what I’m seeing, and I really don’t think it’s just a little friendly flirting for him, either,” he said, looking at me again. “I really think you should speak up while you’ve got the chance to. We don’t often get good things with lives like ours.”

“I know. I just don’t want to screw things up.”

“You’re gonna end up screwed if you keep pushing it down, anyway.”

I sighed. He took that signal as a time to change the subject, and for that I was thankful.

“Well, let’s find you the next case, huh?”

The next one was an easy find, and it would’ve been great to break the news to the boys when they got back, if not for a very clumsy Sam walking in the door with a twisted ankle.

“You what?” Bobby asked, incredulous.

Sam sighed, pouting. “I rolled it when I stepped in a pothole.”

Dean shook his head, clearly hiding his amusement as he helped his brother hobble towards a kitchen chair.

“So, no case, then?” I asked.

Bobby perked up. “No, you and Dean can still go. I can take care of Sam.”

“Bobby…” I warned, seeing through him instantly.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Dean said, cutting off my death stare. “When was the last time we went on a case, just you and me?”

I looked at him.

“Seriously, you guys can go without me,” Sam said. “It might be good for you, Y/N. You seem a little restless.”

“I am not,” I defended.

Bobby chuckled. “Sure, you’re not. But I’m not suggesting, I’m telling you. Get out of my house.”

I glanced at him, offended. “I am a delight.”

“You are, but I still want you out. You become much less delightful when you’re antsy.”

Dean laughed. “Come on, it’s only a state over, right? If we start driving now we can make it by sundown.”

I took a moment.

“Alright,” I nodded, heading towards the stairs to gather my things.

The case was a hot mess, to say the least. We couldn’t figure out what we were hunting to begin with, and the only true consistency is that the deaths were messy, leaving each victim with a missing liver. It wasn’t until we were at the most recent site of the death that things took a little bit of a turn.

“What do you think?” Dean asked, leaning in my direction.

I shrugged, looking around the house.

“It seems… clean.”

“I mean, I guess. We haven’t found hex bags or EMF readings—”

“No,” I cut him off, gesturing around the living room. “Like physically clean. Nothing is out of place. Look at the mantle.”

I walked over, using my gloved hand to wipe along the surface. I showed him my hand.

“Clean. Not even dust.”

He raised a brow. “And that matters because…”

“Because we’re supposed to be looking for some monster-unknown that never cleans up their messes. Every other scene we’ve been to has been a wreck, so why is the only thing out of place the blood stains on the floor? This is also the first time it’s been in the victims house.”

He paused. “You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again, haven’t you?”

I rolled my eyes, taking off the glove.

“That’s not important right now,” I shook my head, standing next to him again. “And, for the record, it’s helping our case.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well, profiler, why don’t you tell me more about what you’re gathering from the scene.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said with a laugh.

He smirked, placing a hand on my back.

“Let’s get out of here and figure out why things changed.”

We followed dead-end leads all over town, until we hit a lucky streak.

“Check this out,” Dean said, calling me over to the table in our room. “Remember that dive bar our last vic was seen at? Look at this dude’s last social media post.”

I walked over, resting a hand against the table as I leaned in. I looked at the laptop, raising a brow.

“Same place.”

“Same place,” he confirmed. “Wanna check it out? See if anything suspicious is up?”

“You sure you don’t just want to hit the bar?”

He looked up at me with a quirked brow.

“What do you think I am? Drinking on the job. I’d never,” he feigned innocence.

I snorted. “Right. So not you.”

“Leave in ten?”

“Sounds good to me.”

We hit the road soon after, winding up at the bar with our eyes peeled for any suspicious activity. There was plenty for us to see in a seedy town like this, but there was only one interaction that truly piqued our interested. I nodded at the man who was paying a little too much special attention to a woman, drawing Dean’s gaze in that direction. He was equally skeeved out. We kept an eye out for another hour or so before the weird activity took another step into the creep category.

We followed out the man who we caught following the woman, all the way to a neighborhood just outside the city. We made our move as soon as the man walked up to her house.

I followed Dean up to the house, and we started to slink around, waiting for any sign of trouble. I first checked through a window near the front of the house.

“Nothing,” I said, motioning for us to move further.

He took the lead, and we came up on a window that looked into the dining room. He slowly looked inside.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be freakin’ kidding me,” Dean mumbled, pulling his head back from the window.

“What?”

“Well, do you want the chance to play out your little crime show fantasies?”

I raised a brow. He sighed, shaking his head.

“That’s not— well, it is a monster in there, but not our kind of monster,” he said, tilting his head.

“It’s a human?”

He nodded. “Looks like it. Nothing supernatural that I can see. She’s passed out now, but let’s get a move on before he starts in on her.”

He started walking towards the back of the house, but I stopped him before we got to the door.

“Can— How do we do this?”

“What do you mean?”

“That’s a human. We can’t just chop his head off or exorcise him.”

“We could still stab him.”

“But should we?”

He gave me a very unamused look, waiting for me to make my point.

“Can we attempt to just— Kick his ass and leave him to deal with life in prison? Only go for the shot if it’s necessary.”

He softened. “He killed people, Y/N, does he really deserve mercy here?”

“Do you really think the prison system is mercy?” I asked, earning a slight chuckle. “I just feel weird about killing humans unless our lives are in immediate danger.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. But if anything goes sideways—”

“Then you feel free to shoot him.”

He nodded curtly, then we continued to the door. He opened it carefully, and we stepped inside, checking our surroundings before we headed towards the woman in the dining room. We saw the man first, his back to us as he sat across the table from her.

“Playing house? Really?” Dean quipped, causing the man to whip around.

My gun was pulled before the man had a chance to stand up and react. He looked between us, obvious annoyance on his face.

“You’re not cops,” he stated.

Dean smirked. “No, we are much worse news for scumbags like you.”

“Now,” I started, “you can try and fail to fight your way out of here, or you can sit still while my partner here makes sure you’re sitting nice and pretty for when the cops do show up.”

Dean moved before he had a chance to formulate a response, dragging him out of the chair. The man tried to put up a fight, but it was pretty quickly silenced by means of a fist to the face. Dean left him on the ground after a few minutes and a roll of duct tape.

“Nice,” I commented, then put away my gun.

I moved to the woman at the table who was still passed out. I checked for a pulse, and when I was sure she was still breathing, I started undoing the binding that kept her to the chair. Dean called in an anonymous tip to the police station as I finished up clearing her of everything. She started waking right as I was about to try and move her to the couch.

“Hey, hey,” I said quietly, trying to give a little comfort before her panic set in. “You’re safe now, alright? You’re fine.”

Her eyes opened, and she immediately clung to me when she saw the man on the ground incapacitated.

“What happened?” she asked with a quivering voice.

“Me and my friend Dean saw this guy creeping around your house. We wanted to make sure everything was okay, and when we found out it wasn’t, we found a way in. The cops are on the way now.”

She nodded. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I glanced back at Dean with the ghost of a smile on my face. He raised his brows at me.

“Why don’t we get you to the couch?”

“You’re not staying?” she asked, still in shock.

“No, we gotta leave,” I said, helping her to the couch. “We’ll stick around for a few minutes outside till the cops get here, though.”

“Okay,” she nodded along absentmindedly as she laid on the couch.

I walked back to Dean, motioning for us to go outside. He looked back down at the man for a moment who was still passed out, then followed behind me. We got back to the Impala and waited.

“Weird to be thanked,” I said, watching the house.

He hummed. “Doesn’t happen often, that’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe we were accidentally hunting a serial killer.”

He snorted. “I’m surprised there’s not more crossover when we hunt.”

I hummed in agreement. “I also wonder why things changed so much. From the murders messy and public to being more confined in the homes.”

“Who knows,” he said, shaking his head. “Monsters make a hell of a lot more sense than people do.”

“You got that right.”

Soon enough we saw flashing lights coming down the street. We watched some officers step out of the first car, and a few more get out of an SUV.

“Is that FBI?” Dean asked, looking intently.

“I mean, we just found them a serial killer. They’ve probably been on high alert,” I said.

He nodded, and we watched for another moment as they prepared to go inside.

“Man, those vests are cool as hell in real life, too,” I commented.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he wrapped up the conversation with a laugh.

He pulled off the sidewalk at that, and started driving in the opposite direction of the cops. We decided to stay the night at the motel, neither of us awake enough to get back to Sam and Bobby. He pulled into the parking lot, and we trudged inside.

“At least we aren’t covered in monster guts this time,” I said as I fell onto the mattress.

“Right?” He chuckled. “Cool if I take the first shower?”

“Of course. I’ll be here.”

He shut the door of the bathroom, and I let out a sigh. All of the teamwork bull crap we’d been doing certainly didn’t help my case, but I could at least be thankful he didn’t want to go the bars and find a hookup. I threw my arms over my eyes and sighed.

“Hey,” I heard Dean’s voice call out, his hand on my knee.

I uncovered my eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve dozed off.”

He smiled. “Go take a shower.”

“You sayin’ I need one?” I asked with a quirked brow.

“Yeah. You’re a mess,” he replied, a playful glint in his eye. “I don’t know how I sat in a car with you all day, to be honest.”

I scoffed, getting up. He moved enough for me to get by, but didn’t let me get far before he started talking again.

“Movie tonight?” he asked.

I rustled through my bag, pulling out my pajama shorts.

“Sure.”

“Any requests?”

“Uh,” I started, still looking for a clean top. “Maybe a comedy. We could use something funny.”

“Good point.” He stared for a moment as I kept digging. “You missing something?”

“I can’t find my t-shirt. I thought I packed three in here.”

“Do you want one of mine?”

I paused, considering the offer. One one hand, I wouldn’t have to wear a cami to bed and risk accidentally flashing him in my sleep. One the other, I’d be wearing his shirt and that would be a sure way to get me in my own head. The risks of the first definitely outweighed my lack of self control.

“That would be awesome.”

He walked to his own bag, pulling out a shirt that matched the one he wore and handing it to me.

“I still think wearing our outside clothes to bed worked just fine.”

“Did you ever feel rested doing that?” I asked.

He sighed dramatically. I laughed.

“Exactly my point,” I said. “Most of your well-being has to do with mindset, Dean.”

He grumbled to himself as he settled into bed, and I took that as my chance to get in the bathroom. My shower was quick, especially since Dean used up most of the hot water. I knew I should’ve gone first, but it forced me not to stay in forever. I pulled on his shirt and my shorts, trying not to let myself smile when I saw myself in the mirror wearing his clothes. I walked back into the room before I allowed myself to think too hard.

He looked at me as I walked out, a smile creeping on his face. I fought back my own to raise a brow as I lingered at the foot of my bed.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Funny seeing you in my shirt.”

“Looks better on me than it ever did on you,” I sassed with a smirk, crawling into bed.

“Can’t argue with that,” he noted, still watching me. He cleared his throat a moment later, looking at the TV screen. “Uh, I found something, I think. They had Step Brothers on demand.”

“Oh, perfect,” I said as he clicked play.

We settled into a comfortable silence for a while, and I cuddled into the duvet. After we were halfway through the movie, I gathered the blankets around me even more.

“Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?” I asked, looking over to see Dean still sitting above the covers.

“It’s a little cold,” he shrugged, then looked at me. “I can check the heater.”

I nodded as he got up and crossed the room. He held a hand out, a puzzled look on his face after a moment. He smacked it with his hand, and still felt nothing.

“Hm. Hang on,” he said, moving to the phone. “Hi, I think the heater in here’s broken.”

A pause.

“Ah, great. Okay, thanks.”

He hung up the phone, looking to me apologetically.

“They said the heating’s down in the whole place.”

I sighed. “That sucks.”

He sat back in his bed, looking at me for a moment before he spoke again.

“I know it’s been a while since we had to, but do you wanna come sleep in my bed tonight? I run hot, it might keep you warm.”

“I know. I had to sleep next to you in the summer, and it was like roasting in an oven,” I chuckled.

“See? It’ll work perfect when you’re cold,” he said, standing again.

He pulled the covers back, getting underneath and patting the mattress next to him. I cursed myself for finding this case in the first place.

“Just don’t complain if I kick you in my sleep,” I said, getting out of my bed.

He chuckled. “I’m not worried about it.”

I got into his bed, and he threw the covers over me. He then reached over top of me to grab the remote, pressing play and slinging an arm around my shoulders. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, leaning into his side.

This position put me in a delicate spot, and I found that to be true more and more with every passing minute. Every time he laughed, I felt it reverberate in his chest. Every time he talked to me, I’d look up to see his face inches from mine. Every time he moved, he held me a little tighter.

In short, Bobby was all too correct about me being screwed.

“Hey,” Dean said, voice soft. “You okay?”

“Mm?”

I looked at him, once again trying not to think about the proximity.

“You always laugh at this scene. You didn’t make a sound this time.”

“Oh,” I chuckled, looking towards the screen. “Sorry, I must be exhausted.”

“Is that all? Seems like there’s something on your mind.”

“Alright, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Seriously,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I think I just need some sleep,” I replied, glancing at him again with half a smile.

He quirked a brow, clearly not believing me, but willing to drop the subject.

“Okay. You know you can always talk to me?”

“I know.”

He smiled softly, then looked back at the TV as he shut it off. He settled into bed, still holding onto me. I snuggled into his side, using his chest as a pillow. I felt him breathe deep before he shut off the light.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean.”

I woke up the next morning before he did, and decided there was little harm in remaining there. I shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy the fact that I was still snuggled against him. It gave me a moment to pretend he was mine, at least for the morning. I listened to his breathing, and wondered if he ever dreamt about me in the same way I did about him. As if on cue, his arm tightened around me a little as he stirred. His thumb brushed against my shoulder where his hand had snuck under the sleeve of the t-shirt, though I couldn’t tell if he was really awake until I felt a soft kiss against the top of my head.

At that moment, I decided it was probably best to continue pretending I was still asleep.

He stayed that way for a little while, his hand still against my shoulder, making little patterns with his thumb. It took everything in me not to move when I felt him brush a few stray pieces of hair away from my face, and even more when he let his hand linger against my cheek for when felt like a few seconds too long to be purely friendly.

I wondered if he was always like this when I wasn’t awake. Extra attentive, and sure not to wake me. Maybe that’s why I somehow remained asleep every time I fell asleep in the car that normally jostled me around like a rag doll with his driving. I wondered even more if Bobby was right about something else he’d said days ago: the unrequited feelings might not be so unrequited after all.

I nestled my head against his chest, trying to give him a warning that I was about to open my eyes, and he quickly pulled his hand away from my face. I took in a breath, blinking slowly as I let the light seep in for the second time that morning.

“Morning,” he greeted quietly, his voice still soft and raspy from tiredness.

I smiled. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” he asked, drawing my attention to him.

I nodded, leaning back a little to see him better.

“Very, and I saw a café on the way into town that looked good,” I said.

He smiled softly, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then, he yawned, finally sitting up. He turned and looked at me as I stayed laying.

“How’d you sleep? Warm enough?”

“Thanks to you, yeah,” I replied, stretching. “I’m scared to get out of bed, now, though.”

He patted my leg over the covers, “If you want food, that should be motivation enough.”

“Good point.”

I reluctantly climbed out of bed as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day. It was cold, but not unbearable. I decided to throw on some clothes in the room since he always took a while in the bathroom. By the time he was finished, all I needed to do was wash my face and brush my teeth, then we were off.

Breakfast was short and sweet, and we made it back to Bobby’s in record time. We strolled in the door, seeing Sam gimping around the kitchen as soon as we walked in.

“Still letting that ankle beat your ass?” I asked immediately.

He laughed. “Trust me, if I had any control over it, this wouldn’t have been a problem in the first place.”

“Maybe you just wanted out of the hunt,” I said in reply.

“Oh yeah, I loved hanging out and making Bobby bring me ice packs all day. Dream vacation, actually.”

Dean shook his head with a smirk. “You didn’t miss out on much anyway.”

“How’d it go?” Sam asked as he took a seat.

I looked to Dean who was already glancing in my direction. I shrugged.

“We stopped a serial killer, actually,” I noted.

Sam gaped. “And I ‘didn’t miss much’?”

“Just knocked him out and called the cops. Not much fun, anyways,” Dean shrugged. “Oh, we did find maybe the best pancakes I’ve ever had, though.”

I hummed in agreement enthusiastically, nodding.

“They were freaking incredible,” I said, then looked back at Sam. “And they had like, real, fresh maple syrup.”

“Unlimited stacks when you bought the platter, too,” Dean chimed in with a gleeful smile.

“You two sound like an old married couple,” Sam scoffed out with a laugh. “What, did you fall asleep together after reading the newspaper, too?”

“After watching a movie, actually,” Dean corrected, grabbing a beer from the fridge. Then, he looked at me. “Did you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

Sam looked between us, a raised brow and an amused look on his face.

“You two actually fell asleep together?”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

He smiled mischievously, then looked at Dean.

“Making moves on her, now?”

Dean swallowed, glaring at his brother with wide eyes. I furrowed my brow, about to see if I could prod Sam for information, but Bobby walked in before I had the chance.

“Hey, you two. How was the hunt?”

Dean let out a breath. “Not real eventful. I could use some sleep.”

He started walking out of the room, all of us watching as he left. Bobby turned to me first, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t look at me,” I said with my hands up in defense. “I think Sammy pissed him off.”

“Real smooth, Sam,” Bobby commented.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. Bobby merely sighed, going to take a seat across from Sam. I looked at them both, hands on my hips.

“Why do I get the feeling you two know something I don’t?”

“Did Dean not talk to you?” Sam asked, looking at me.

“We talk plenty.”

“That’s not what I mean. He said he was gonna talk to you when the next case was over,” he stopped, then looked at Bobby. “Case came and went, and still nothing.”

Bobby shrugged. “Out of our hands, Sam. Told you not to meddle.”

I sighed in annoyance. “You two are children, you know that?”

“Hey,” Bobby said, offended.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” I said finally, turning for the door.

The second I was halfway out, they started talking again, but I couldn’t bring myself to care too much about what they said. Clearing my mind sounded like the best option, and I was determined to do it.

I started walking around the yard, music blaring from my phone to keep me preoccupied as I watched the sky light up with a million different colors. I found an old car with a relatively clean exterior and decided to climb onto the hood. I leaned back, watching the sky as it turned darker, the stars slowly peaking out.

“Room for one more?” Dean’s voice asked from behind me.

“Come on up,” I said, scooting over a bit.

He came and sat next to me, looking up at the sky. He let out a slow breath, then looked at me.

“Taylor Swift?”

“You know it,” I replied.

He smiled, turning his head back.

“Stars are coming out,” he commented.

“They are. You should’ve seen sunset, it was gorgeous.”

He scooted closer, leaning his head against mine silently. After a moment, I let myself lean against his shoulder a little more.

“You okay, Dean?” I asked after a beat.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno. You just seemed a little off when we got back today.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s— It’s nothing.”

“You sound like me, now.”

He chuckled. “Guess we’ve got the same bad habit, huh?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

We stayed there until it got dark enough to really see the stars come out, not moving even when the chill of the night started creeping in. I readjusted my head against his shoulder, preparing myself to speak again.

“Did you really follow me out here just to look at stars?”

I felt him still. Then, after a moment, I sat up a little straighter and looked at him. He glanced back at me, clearly feeling caught out.

“Thought you could use some company.”

I raised a brow, and he smirked, looking away.

“Alright, you got me,” he said, “What gave it away?”

“First off, I’ve known you for years,” I started, nudging him in the arm. “Second, Sam and Bobby were all uppity about the fact that you apparently told Sam you had something to talk to me about.”

“I swear, he can’t keep a secret to save his life when it comes to stuff like this,” he said, rubbing at his face.

“Well, try me,” I said, unable to keep my eyes off of him. He was extra cute all flustered. “I’m a good listener.”

He let out a breath, then looked at me, scanning my face for a moment.

“I know I’ve got a certain type of reputation—”

“You?! No way,” I exclaimed with a smile, my eyes wide.

He laughed. “Exactly my point.”

“You know I don’t care about that, though. Reputations are a one-sided story.”

He hummed. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

He sighed, looking back at the sky for a moment.

“I just,” he started, giving a shrug, “I feel like it— Like it makes people feel like I never want anything but a hookup, you know?”

“It makes people feel that way?”

“I’m that easy to read, huh?” he asked, looking at me again with a faint smile. “You. I mean you.”

“I gathered that much.”

He laughed softly, as did I.

“How’d you know?”

“I had suspicions fueled by Bobby. Then you kissed me and started being all affectionate when you thought I was asleep this morning.”

His eyes widened. “You were pretending to be asleep? That’s so not fair!”

“Hey, I woke up snuggled into my own personal space heater, I didn’t exactly want to be up and at ‘em.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging me into his side with an arm around my shoulders once more.

“How long has it been for you?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t even know. I guess I started realizing it a year or so ago.”

“That’s embarrassing for me, then. I knew the second I met you,” he said with a laugh.

“Dean,” I said with surprise. “It’s been half a decade! No wonder Bobby got on my ass about it before we left.”

“Well, hey, Sammy’s been on mine for a couple years. You got off easy up till now.”

I laughed. “I guess so. To be fair, we were flying under the radar for quite a while, though. The incessant flirting the past few weeks is what got us in trouble.”

“Why did you start being extra flirty, anyway?” he asked, resting his cheek against the top of my head.

“I don’t know. I guess I was, like, subconsciously seeing a window. You haven’t been doing your normal bar hookups the past few months, so I thought maybe there was a reason for it,” I paused. “Though, finding out you’ve been crushing on me for five years kind of makes me question that.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Easier to keep my mind off you that way. That sounds terrible. I just— I never thought in a million years you’d think anything of me.”

“Well, when did you realize I might?”

He sighed. “You remember a couple weeks back when we were taking down that vamp nest? You easily could’ve died, and we hugged afterwards, but when I pulled back I… I saw that look in your eyes that seemed an awful lot like how I look at you when you’re not paying attention. I wanted to kiss you, and I didn’t doubt in that moment that you would’ve let me if I had.”

I paused. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was scared. We’ve been friends for so long, and we practically do everything together. I didn’t want to ruin anything on the off chance that I was reading those signs all wrong.”

“You weren’t.”

He fell quiet for a moment. I looked up at him, and he looked back at me as I did. He quickly wet his lips, drawing my gaze downward before my eyes flicked back up to his. His lips parted momentarily. Then…

“We should get back inside. It’s getting cold out here,” he said quickly.

I nodded curtly, pulling away to let him get off the hood first. He gave me a hand, helping me down next. We walked back to the house quietly, saying soft goodnights before we went to separate rooms.

I was all settled in for the night, cozy in my bed with a book in hand. Then, I heard a knock on the door. I grumbled as I got up, annoyed that I had to leave the comfort of a mattress that wasn’t a sure cesspool of germs I didn’t want to think about. I flung the door open.

“Someone better be dying or I’m gonna kick some ass for—”

Dean’s lips crashed into mine, effectively silencing me from my rant. I melted after a few seconds of mental delay, my hands gripping onto the material of his shirt as his cradled my face. I felt him smile into the kiss, drawing my closer with arms that snuck around my waist, holding me tight. He wasted no time in deepening the kiss once he was sure that the signs were all giving him a positive response.

We finally broke apart a few minutes later, breathing heavy with pounding hearts.

“I figured I should stop letting opportunities pass me up,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, good thinking.”

His eyes scanned over me, his chest still heaving.

“You wouldn’t happen to need another space heater for the night, would you?”

“I run cold, what can I say?” I replied with a smirk, and a spark in my eye.

He smiled, walking me into the room with his lips on mine, kicking the door shut behind him.

(EDIT: starting taglists now! let me know if you want to be on any!)

FULL MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

[eyesofshinigami]

3, 2, 1, Fight!

Rating: General Audiences

Tags: Meet Ugly, Steve and Dustin are brothers, pre-relationship

Written for the STWG daily drabble prompt: not a meet cute but a meet ugly

This is not at all how Steve pictured his Saturday going. He could be anywhere, instead, he’s standing in a comic book shop, fighting over a toy with another grown man who looks like he’s going to beat Steve over the head with it.

“Let go!” the guy yells, trying to tug the action figure out of Steve’s hands

“No, you let go!” Steve yells back, yanking it back. He has to give the guy props, though. He’s just as relentless as Steve is.

The guy sputters, an attractive shade of pink coloring his cheeks as his curly hair falls in his face. Wait, what? “Fuck off, why are you even here? Don’t you belong in a gym or something?”

Steve scoffs, still yanking. “Does it matter why I’m here? Just let go already!”

Dustin had been asking for this action figure for months now, talking about it and showing Steve newspaper clippings and TV commercials. Steve, being the good big brother he is, promised their mom that he would do his best to get it for him for his upcoming birthday. He’d be damned if he was going to let some punk, albeit a very attractive punk, take it away from him. Why did they only put three out on the shelf anyway?

They play tug of war for another few minutes, until the bewildered clerk, who had been watching their exchange, finally butts in and says, “Uh, I think I might have another one in the back? Can you wait here?”

They both nod, neither of them letting go of the toy. “I wish he would have said that in the first place,” Steve grouses, watching the clerk disappear behind a door. “Why they only put out a couple of copies of a toy I will never understand.”

It’s Hot Guy’s turn to sputter. “Toy? TOY? This, sir, is the limited edition statue of Kas the Betrayer that Wizard of the Coast put out to celebrate the anniversary of his DnD release! Not that you would care about any of that, you troglodyte.”

Steve has no idea what any of that means. “Oh, so that’s why Dustin wanted it. Makes sense now. He loves that guy.”

“Wait, it’s not for you?”

“Uh, no? It’s for my kid brother’s birthday. He loves that Dorks and Dragons game and he ran a Kas… uh… campaign? Last year? It was his first time. Kas is kind of a big deal to him.”

The other guy starts to look a little contemplative, but that’s when the clerk appears with another, much less rankled looking box. Steve immediately lets the one in his hands go and takes that one instead. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

The clerk shrugs and heads back behind the counter. Meanwhile, Hot Guy tugs his hair in front of his face. “Uh, look. I’m sorry I said such shitty things over a toy. It’s just, Kas is kind of a big deal to me too. You could have just said.”

Steve waves him off. “No worries, I get it. But now we both have one.” He pauses and considers a second. It’s worth a shot. “You could make it up to me over lunch in the food court.”

Hot Guy’s eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”

Okay, wow. “Well, I was, but you can just say no, you don’t have to-“

“No, no, no!” Hot Guy says, waving his arms around, nearly dropping the box he fought so hard for. “No, I’d like that. Eddie,” he says, holding out a hand. That pretty pink flush is back. Steve kind of wants to see how far it goes down.

“Steve. Now let’s go, before any more wayward nerds decide they want to fight us over these.”

Eddie, dork that he is, bows and motions towards the cash register, “By your leave, my prince.”

Steve rolls his eyes. He always did like the nerdy ones.

[kikitakite]

I saw your callout in the Gale tag for that one user (no comment on them, tho ty for the callout bc i'd seen them in the notes of my fics) and was curious if you could elaborate on some of the Mystra incidents you described towards the end of the post? I'm new to the lore of the setting and find it hard to research (which makes sense given its importance to dnd), so I've heard a lot of conflicting things about Mystra's portrayal in the wider series. No pressure, obviously!

No problem! And yea, I've seen her arguing in the posts of a few people I follow or just Gale-related posts I find interesting. Usually I don't get involved in stuff like this, but I noticed a constant pattern and then all the homophobic shit so I went off a little.

Unfortunately it's hard to find exact examples of the Mystra lore because certain modules aren't very popular or even free to access, but if you're interested the best way to learn about her is by reading the Elminster novels. There's twelve total, dating all the way back to 1994, and they detail Elminster's adventures. I'll be honest though, some of them are a hard read and written through the lens of a man who's admitted very creative, but also has a lot of problematic ideas.

In the first book Elminster is a child. His entire town gets wiped out by mages, thereby making him hostile toward magic. He sneaks into Mystra's temple to deface her statue one night, but she appears before him and basically gaslights him into learning magic and becoming her rare Chosen. He becomes a wizard and cleric basically overnight, until eventually he multiclasses into pretty much every class type in DnD. As you can imagine a lot of players aren't too fond of Elminster, as he's a well known self-insert of the author and pretty annoying to run into during campaigns. None of my dungeon masters like him anyway.

He also becomes one of Mystra's most loyal followers, but she fucks with him over and over, turning him into a woman to teach him a lesson and SLEEPING with him in that form, berating him when he struggles with the torture he endures when he gets stuck in the hells, making him reproduce without his knowledge and getting jealous when he gives his partners more attention. Because she's a very jealous goddess, which I think the game vaguely touches on but not really.

I wish I had the time to flip through all the novels and give exact citations but the best I can do is suggest them, because they're so eye opening. She's considered a neutral good goddess, but neutral gods often do terrible things for the sake of their domain. I think it needs to be noted that Mystra, as with all gods in the pantheon, only cares about her portfolio. She isn't wrong for that, but it doesn't mean she's blameless when she messes with people's lives. She's done a lot of good but she's also made horrible decisions, especially where her followers are concerned.

For example, Elminster having children he doesn't know about. He has a daughter named Narnra. Her conception was... pretty fucked up. Basically a song dragon named Ammaratha Cyndusk was an occasional lover of Elminster's (he has a lot of those because of course he does) and she wanted to bear his child, but since he's a Chosen of Mystra he can control his fertility. Magic birth control, basically. He didn't want a kid so Ammaratha went behind his back to learn a counterspell that would make him fertile during sex. The man she asked refused to teach her because...duh that's messed up, but then Mystra intervened and told him to teach her the spell because she wanted Elminster's "seed to spread". Ammaratha never told him and neither did Mystra. No matter what the reasons, that was NOT consensual on Elminster's part, and it happened two more times, resulting in two more daughters with different women. If I remember correctly Elminster did eventually find out waaaaay later when they were all adults, but it never amounted to anything.

The sisters I was taking about are the Seven Sisters, Mystra's "daughters". And I put "daughters" in quotations because Mystra possessed the body of a woman named Elué and impregnated her without her consent. She slept with the woman's husband (again, while possessing her body) and made them sire seven children. This of course lead to Elué's death because the constant flow of magic in her body was too much for her to handle. Her grieving husband broke after she died and eventually left, abandoning his daughters and earning Mystra's scorn...as if he was in the wrong. The sisters were then orphaned and raised by foster families.

That said, most of the awful things anyone can say about Mystra were the doings of her previous incarnations so ultimately it doesn't apply to the Mystra of BG3. In fact, this third Mystra is supposed to be a new and improved goddess who's nicer to her followers. So her portrayal in BG3 annoyed a lot of DnD fans. I should also point out that Mystra has two types of fans: ones who will defend everything she does, even when it's fucked up beyond all comprehension, and the ones who will tell you she's a true neutral goddess capable of good and bad. I'm the latter. There are plenty examples of Mystra sticking her neck out for innocents, but there's also examples of her doing the most horrendous shit imaginable.

A lot of veteran players, at least the ones I know, are upset with the portrayal of Mystra in BG3 because her plan to end the Absolute is, quite frankly, stupid. Your party is the best chance anyone has of ending the threat, but she asks Gale to nuke himself and possibly tens of thousands, which makes no sense because she could've just sent her mages/clerics to deal with the problem. And there was no guarantee the bomb would've worked anyway. She put all the responsibility on one man and it DEFINITELY comes off as vindictive. That isn't out if character for her but she's not SUPPOSED to be that bad anymore. For a lot of DnD players it felt like she was reverting back to her old habits.

I think there's also a part in the game where you can directly ask Gale why she doesn't just blip the Absolute out of existence and he says something like, "She could but Ao won't allow it." That was also really strange for a lot of veteran players to hear because Gale drops Ao's name like it's nothing. Most people (especially if they're new to the franchise) wouldn't know this but most people in Faerûn don't know who Ao is! Because he wiped people's memories of his existence! I suppose it does make sense for Gale to know that name, since Mystra probably explained the pantheon to him, but it's VERY unlikely tav would know it. So during that conversation all I could picture was tav tilting their head like, "Huh? Who? Whaaa?"

And on top of that......Ao absolutely WOULD allow it because the Absolute effects the Weave and every other god! It had the potential to ruin the balance of the universe, which makes Ao a very angry boy. Balance is one of the ONLY things he cares about. The Dead Three were stealing souls and worshippers, which gods needs to survive, and dying gods disrupts the balance. It's a whole circle of chaos. So the only conclusion left for me to extrapolate is this: Mystra just really, really wanted Gale to kill himself to prove his devotion to her. Which...isn't great. Bad look for her.

It's kind of like how Raphael thinks the Crown of Karsus is going to help him end the Blood War and take over the hells. DnD players laughed during his epilogue because...no it won't lol. He doesn't stand a chance even with the crown. He's arrogant and he's gonna get slapped by his daddy and all the other archdevils, the same way Gale gets slapped by Mystra if he ascends. Even the Absolute ending of the game wouldn't last long because the gods would go to war with the Dead Three, wipe them out and rebuild Faerûn, which has happened many times in past DnD campaigns. Mystra alone has torn worlds apart and glued them back together. The main crisis of BG3 is saving the world you live in or everybody dies. For the gods it's just a Tuesday. I mean look at how Withers owns the Dead Three with a wave of his hand at the end of the game. Mystra COULD'VE killed the Absolute, just as she could've removed the orb from Gale's chest the moment it happened. She just didn't WANT to. She wanted him to die. She wanted him to chastise himself. She wanted him to suffer and come crawling back to her as an obedient follower. She wanted him to learn a harsh and honestly unfair lesson, which is a terrible throwback to her previous incarnations.

[xxselenite]

٠ ࣪⭑ Leave behind all of Cupid's arrows and quivers | Jacaerys x reader

modern!Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader [no use of y/n] Word count: 2.1k words Summary: You've had feelings for your best friend Jace for a while now and he has agreed to help you rehearse your lines for your theatre play, but things take an unexpected turn. Warning: none, pure fluff. If anything, reader is down bad and a little insecure a/n: The title and the play quoted is Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. It's one of my favourite French plays and I absolutely encourage you to read it! This is also a very self-indulgent fic considering I've acted for eight years, don't mind me haha. English isn’t my first language so I apologise in advance for any possible grammatical and/or lexical mistake! feedback is welcome and appreciated <3 (images are taken from pinterest)

Sitting on the edge of your bed where you could catch the most sunlight, you skimmed through the script of the play until you reached a page covered in highlights and spiderly handwriting. The notes went from deep character analysis to little jokes written here and there and smiley faces drawn by your castmates.

“Alright, act three, scene six!” You declared, handing the paper to Jace who was lying on your bed by your side, his eyes half-open. He let go of the plushies he was playing with to grab your notes. “This is the second most iconic scene of the play, though I don’t have that many lines, so it should be quick,” you added.

Jace sat up and squinted to decipher the annotations on the page, a smile appearing on his face as he read the stupid puns you had found.

“You’re being super professional,” he rolled his eyes.

You chuckled. “You’re being unfair? I joined the theatre club for funsies, I did not expect to land this role.” Your face twisted into a scowl. “Most of the things I write in there are useful though. I don’t want to act like a killjoy so others don’t think I’m annoying, but I still want to prove I was the right person to cast for Roxane.”

Jace lowered the script to look at you and passed his hand in his hair to put it back into place. “You do deserve that,” he told you with a gentle tone and you tried to repress the butterflies in your stomach his praise and soft gaze had created, cursing yourself internally. You had never wanted to develop feelings for your best friend in the first place, you knew it was a bad idea, but it was too late now. Love was there, deeply rooted in the daydreams in which he kissed you during the golden hour, when your bedroom was bathed in light.

Falling in love with Jace was as easy as breathing. Of course, he was handsome, but it was not just a shallow little crush. He was nice, and sweet, and funny. He cared about you and listened to you when you needed to. He gave you good advice but knew when you just needed comfort. He had been there for you when you were at your lowest and no one else was there. He had the cutest smile ever and gave the best hugs. The list went on and on, anything he did was just making you fall a little harder.

But this love, sweet as honey, was also as sticky and sickening. You indulged in the sweet moments when he hugged you or complimented you, but it also made you feel guilty and, well, desperate. You were convinced this love could only be one-sided – Jace was perfect, everyone at your high school liked him. And you were… you. You knew each other since you were kids, there was no way he would ever see you as something more than a friend. And you were relatively okay with this, you would rather keep being this close to him without anything more than risk losing it all.

Perhaps your turmoil of emotions appeared on your face, or it was just Jace’s ability to read you like an open book, but he frowned and asked you if you were okay. You immediately regained your composure to answer in a way you hoped was natural.

“Yes, I was just thinking it must be pretty boring for you to help me rehearse my lines. We don’t have to do the whole play today. We don’t even need to do the whole thing, I can finish on my own.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have said I’d help you if it bothered me. It’s fun actually, and you’re a great actress.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and cleared your throat.

“I try my best! Although this is one of the scenes that scares me a bit.”

“Why so?”

“Okay, so this scene is with the love triangle between Christian, Cyrano and Roxane. You know the story, Christian is handsome but a bit dumb, Cyrano is ugly but quick-witted and a great speaker, and they both want Roxane. Cyrano decides to aid his buddy Christian and hides and prompts Christian who talks to Roxane under her balcony.”

“A balcony scene, like in Romeo and Juliet?”

“Precisely. But at some point, Cyrano starts talking instead of Christian and makes a beautiful declaration to Roxane because this is at night and she can’t see him. As I said, Roxane has very few lines but you see her falling for who she thinks Christian is, and I have to make this very clear to the audience.”

It’s not going to be hard to pretend that with you… You thought to yourself, looking away from the boy.

Jace nodded thoughtfully, reading the first lines of the scene again.

“Alright, where am I supposed to stand?” He asked you, looking up again.

“I guess I could get up on my bed and you go in front of me, on the floor? This way I’ll be a bit above, like with a balcony?”

The boy followed your indications and helped you find your balance on your bed. You weren’t used to this angle and seeing his eyes from above made you melt. You knew that they were beautiful, blessed with thick eyelashes you were jealous of, but it was like you were discovering them for the first time.

Once you could stand comfortably, Jace started the scene, changing his voice and attitude for Cyrano and Christian. His way of acting both characters earned a chuckle from you.

“Am I doing this wrong?” He briefly interrupted, shooting you a worried glance.

“Not at all, you’re nailing it! You should have joined the company, it would have been fun.”

“I’m not sure it would have been a good idea if I made you break character.”

“I’m much more professional on a stage than in the privacy of my bedroom.”

“If you say so…” He smirked before continuing the scene, and you thought you’d do anything to frame this moment and keep it forever. The warm afternoon light, the slight breeze, the smell of your vanilla candle, everything about it was perfect, like out of a fairytale.

Your first line, “Who calls me?” came out a bit trembling when you met Jace’s intense gaze, and you forced yourself to look away, reminding yourself that Roxane could not see her interlocutor, let alone lose herself in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you focused and the following lines went swiftly.

But as the scene progressed and Cyrano’s declarations got gradually passionate, it became harder and harder for you to put your feelings aside. You repeated yourself that it was all acting and that Jace was, unfortunately for you, a very talented actor. Everything, from the tone of his voice to the way he looked at you, made him look like an enamoured boy, and a specific line acted as the final nail in the coffin.

“I love you! I am mad! I am suffocating with love for you! Your name rings in my heart like a bell. When I think of you, I tremble, and the bell shakes and rings out your name! Everything you do I love! I remember every action of yours that I ever witnessed! I know that last year on the twelfth of May, you changed the way you wore your hair. I am so used to taking your hair for daylight itself that, just as one stares at the sun and sees a red blot on all things, when I turn away after looking at you, I see a radiant image imprinted on everything!”

You closed your eyes as he finished speaking and clenched your fists as you whispered your answer, opening your eyes again

“Yes, this is love.”

You knew Roxane was supposed to be in a sort of emotional turmoil at this moment and that your reaction, if a bit excessive, was not out of character, counting on that fact not to attract Jace’s attention. Yet, his gaze softened and he frowned a little to show his concern, but you nodded to tell him to keep going. This was another thing you cherished about your relationship with him; he could understand you without needing any word.

With a little hesitation, he continued the scene, but from this moment on, his eyes did not leave your frame on the edge of the bed, towering over him but looking so fragile. He walked a little closer to the edge of the bed, as if he was expecting you to faint and wanted to catch you.

You reached the climax of the scene a few minutes later. You knew it was coming from the beginning, the moment where Christian, high on enthusiasm to see Roxane fall in love, asks for a kiss. The kiss does not happen in the scene, Cyrano backtracks, but the demand creates an immediate tension in the scene. Yes, you knew it was coming. Nevertheless, when you Jace said “a kiss,” it felt like a punch in your guts. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, God knew what you would have given to kiss them just once, for a second.

Your brain was moving slowly, like it was underwater, and you couldn’t find your next line. No matter how hard you tried to remember it, your mind was blank, all you could do was stare at him in awe. When your eyes left his lips after what seemed to be an eternity, he was looking at you, his face a few centimetres away from yours. You could see every detail on his skin and smell the faint fragrance of his cologne.

You blinked, and when you opened your eyes again, his lips were on yours. They were soft, and warm, and a little hesitant. You returned the kiss without even realising it, lips parting and hands flat against his chest while his own hands found your hips and held you still to prevent you from falling from your bed.

Jace broke the kiss, too quickly in your opinion, but it had been enough to tie the wires in your brain even tighter and the only thing that you managed to blurt out was a pathetic: “This isn’t in the script.”

Your best friend chuckled, still holding you. His touch was gentle but it was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I really hope the look on your face is surprise and not pure horror.” He said, and you sensed the nervousness behind his light-hearted tone. You hadn’t even realised your eyes were open wide. You shook your head and carefully grabbed Jace’s hands, keeping them between your two bodies.

“Why did you kiss me, Jace?” You made sure that your voice was soft and your question genuine, so that he couldn’t interpret it as a blame.

The boy seemed to be taken aback for a split second and looked for reassurance in your eyes, which he seemed to find as he licked his lips and answered.

“Cyrano’s words. They’re mine. I mean, they’re not exactly mine, they’re way more eloquent than I can be. But what they say matches what I feel. This whole scene, it’s… It’s acting, but it’s not. I mean it.” He started fidgeting with your fingers. “I’ve been feeling like this for a little while now I think, but I’ve never really admitted it to myself.”

“What changed then?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe the fact you joined the theatre club? You’re so radiant when you talk about it, let alone when you’re on stage. You- you shine like a star in the night, and I realised I loved you more than a friend, I was just too scared to do anything, because losing you would be worse.”

You let a nervous laugh escape your lips and Jace seemed startled by the crystalline sound.

“Oh Jace,” you sighed, “we are so ridiculous. I’ve been feeling the very same thing for months, and I was standing there letting the fear devour me.”

“Seriously?” The word slipped out of Jace’s mouth in a whisper which you barely caught and you nodded in the same discreet, almost secretive way.

You kept quiet for a little while, gazing into each other’s eyes. Outside, the birds were chirping in the garden. The rumble of the cars was echoing from the more active parts of the cities. The breeze was causing the curtains to flow at a low rhythm. And you two felt like the only people in the world.

[maralarsen]

Does he love me? >⁠.⁠<🎀

~Theodore Nott x reader~

WARNING: cursing

Fluff/Little angst

° | friends to lovers| °

° |Summary: Theo starts to be too nice and the reader wants to solve it

° | I'm starting to feel that my stories are boring even though I've only written 3 of them and one of them is supposed to have a sequel

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Who ever thought that the important books would be the highest," I jumped to grab the book on the elixir, but of course like the two attempts before and now I missed. "Sh*t!" I sinned, "pretty girls shouldn't swear."

I turned at the sound of a rather familiar voice. "Theo stop kidding and help me," why am I jumping for a book when he just reaches out and has it right away.

"Try to ask," he said with a smirk.

"I can see how much you enjoy watching me struggle with my height, Mr. Supreme!" but he just smiled and sat down on the nearest chair. He probably won't really help me if I don't ask.

Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not one of "his girls" who will ask him for something. I've known Theo long enough to not be naive that he likes me even though I had him. It's too much to say that I she could admit that at all.

But I'm not going to ask him for one stupid book.

CHAIR.

God, why didn't I think of that sooner. I walked over to the chair that was next to him, on which he was sitting, and moved it to the bookshelf.

"Why don't you just use a wand?" he asked me. "Because I probably forgot it?!" I reached for the book and took it in my hand, "ha, finally!" I raised my hands in the air as a sign of victory and I jumped from my chair to push her to her place.

"What are you planning for the evening?" I turned to face him, "I definitely don't intend to sleep under the image of God." I answered his question truthfully.

I wasn't the type to go to a party and then go to sleep and wake up in someone else's bed in the morning.

"Too bad, I thought you would come today," I raised an eyebrow at him, "and why?" he smiled at me and got up from his chair and slowly walked towards me.

He brushed a stray strand of my (c/h) hair out of my face and tucked it into place, behind my ear. "I don't even know myself, I had a feeling that you would say yes this time," I looked at him in disbelief, I was shocked by his actions.

There was always a friendly atmosphere between us and none of us ever crossed it. Why he suddenly behaves like that is strange to me.

"But as you can see I said no," I pulled away from him and left the library with the book in my hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week later:

Interactions with Theo became more and more frequent.

Touching hands more often while walking. Hugging more often when saying goodbye. More frequent peeking during class. And more often compliments.

It didn't bother me because one side of me screamed after every touch of his, but the other warned me against this and shouted to be careful.

But as it usually happens with a teenage girl in love, the first page won me over. I longed for his touch, for his caress, for every compliment. He was literally making me a desperate pile of misery. Well, I didn't show anything on the outside. At least I tried, I don't know if it really worked.

I wanted to talk to him about this. Because all he gave me was a sweep. I didn't know what to expect from him. Is he serious or just kidding?

This is how I ended up in Pansy's room. "Pansy please give me some advice," I begged her with desperation in my voice. "I think you should go see him…ouch!" she tried to give me advice while doing her makeup for today's Slytherin party.

Unfortunately, this combination ended with a pencil sticking into her eye. "Are you okay?" "Ow. Hey, I just pricked myself, shit." she put the pencil down and sat on the bed next to me. "Listen, go after him," "but what if he..." I started playing with the laces on my sweatshirt.

"No problem! F*ck you woman, you're only young once, so f*ck him if you love him. And also everything points to the fact that he loves you too!" I looked at her.

"But what if I don't love him, what if it's just an infatuation that we'll regret later?!" I threw up my hands. That's what I was most afraid of, that it was just an infatuation, nothing more than a little romance. And I will hurt him and our friendship.

“Listen, (y/n/n)! If you didn't love him and it was just a romance, just an infatuation, you wouldn't be despairing over it now. You wouldn't care. And something tells me he feels the same way. At this time she's always on the astronomical tower smoking." I smiled at her and hugged her.

"Why did I deserve you Pans, thank you!" she grabbed my hands and said: "You'll thank me later now run," definitely I didn't hesitate any longer and ran to the door.

I literally ran through the corridors to get to the astronomical tower as soon as possible and catch him there. When I finally got there, I stopped in front of the stairs. What if he rejects me...NO! Enough of the doubt it's now or never!

I confidently walked up the stairs. I saw him leaning against a pillar smoking. My self-confidence left me the moment he noticed me and put out his cigarette. "What are you doing here?" he asked me. "Theo, we need to talk!" he raised his eyebrows "Did I do something?" Yes you did! I walked closer to him "Damn you realize what you're doing to me. The unexpected affection. Why Theodore, why now. If you just want me in bed then do it right now stop. Because you won't get me there even though I love you so much that I'm afraid to admit it to myself. God, you can't even imagine how much I was bothered by all those girls clinging to you and..." it was so fast that I didn't even have time to react .

One moment he was leaning against a pillar the next his lips were on mine. It was a kiss worth a million unheard words. A kiss that confirmed mutual affection.

He pulled away first with his right hand on my waist and his left on my face. When did he manage to put them there? "F*ck! You don't even realize how long I wanted to kiss you. Feel your lips on mine. I love you. And I'm finally not afraid to admit it. I've loved you since the day I saw you for the first time, even though as an 11-year-old I didn't even realize it and didn't know what love was. Hence all the affection. That's why now. Because when I saw you in that library. That's when I realized that I don't want anyone but you. Only you and your personality." when he spoke, I couldn't believe his words. I had never seen so many emotions in his eyes in my life.

"Theo I don't know what to say," I dreamily looked into his stormy blue eyes.

"Don't say anything just love me. Love me like your life depends on it because I already do," he loves me.

Theodore Nott loves me! Me!

Now I wanted only one thing: "Kiss me." Please!" I begged him. "Are you seriously begging? You (y/n) (y/l)?" "Yes please. And now please do it!" He smirked and his lips met mine, but now with more softness than if they were made of glass and he has to take care of them and protect them so they don't break.

I kissed him back and my hands tangled in his hair and they pulled him closer. He pushed me against the wall in return. I finally felt complete as if I had always belonged in his arms.

I pulled away from his hungry mouth "I love you! Theodore Nott," "I love you too (y /n) (y/l). More than you can imagine," I smiled at him and pressed my forehead to his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

• English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for the mistakes

• If you have any requests for a story, write to me ☺️

[scoops-aboy86]

Your Smile Is My Favorite

Prompt Used: Summer reading (@thehairandthebanished) and cheesy pickup lines (@softsteddieseptember) | Your Smile Is My Favorite | Rating: T | CW: mild body image issues | Additional Tags: chubby Steve Harrington, gay Eddie Munson, pining, bizarre communication through intricate pickup line rituals, Robin loves these two idiots

I wrote most of this while on a 11 hour car trip, I’ll post it to ao3 later. 🥱 Still the 4th in my time zone though!

It’s hard to stay absorbed in a book when Steve Harrington is swimming laps in his little red shorts, but Eddie is managing. 

Sort of. Kinda. 

Okay, not really. Or at all. 

But he’s read Return of the King so many times before that he can fill in any paragraphs his eyes accidentally skim over from memory, so it’s fine. And he definitely rolled high on stealth by being smart enough to bring sunglasses, because Middle Earth has nothing on his view of Steve’s chest while the guy does the backstroke. 

Earlier in the summer Steve would have been poolside with Eddie and Robin, sprawled out in the sun snacking on pizza and chips with them and letting Eddie draw him into their umpteenth debate on which is better, Coca Cola or Mountain Dew. Now he’s going at it in the pool like he has something to prove, or diving in over and over while complaining about his form. 

Which, Eddie thinks, is a very fine form indeed. He’s thickened up some since their harrowing adventures last Spring Break, transformed from merely good-looking to downright beefy in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth water and fingers twitch with the urge to rake through that tantalizing chest hair, test the give of Steve’s deliciously softer pecs and stomach. It’s starting to become a problem. 

As if Aragorn, son of Arathorn, would have an easier time concentrating on a book about the Party’s adventures if Arwen were parading around in front of him while scantily clad, Eddie thinks, trying to make himself feel like a little bit less of a pining loser. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Robin says, sounding bored from the next lounge chair over. She hasn’t even looked up from her own book. 

Eddie considers protesting. He could; they’ve never actually discussed the way they’d clocked each other as queer during Spring Break, he has plausible deniability. 

Instead, he says, “Got a camera you can loan me, Birdie?”

She snorts, sliding her bookmark into place as she turns towards him on her lounger. “No, but now that we’re talking about it, can we talk about how your crush is visible from, like, space?”

“He is not!” The protest tumbles out of him before Eddie even thinks about it, and his cheeks immediately flare red under layers of sunblock. It’s not like Robin would talk about the way her platonic soulmate had recently put on some extra weight like that, Eddie is just a moron. Well, he’ll just have to blow past it and pretend he’d been… bluffing about his crush not being Steve. Yeah. “Uh, I mean. Fuck, I’m not being too obvious, am I?”

Robin’s grin is smug, and definitely a little bit at his expense. “Not really. You’re super easily distracted when there’s more people around, so the kids haven’t picked up on it yet.” She glances back at the pool and the expression softens to amused affection. “It’s written all over your face right now, but I’m pretty sure dingus over there has this fixed idea about your type being all dark clothes and leather and tattoos. He’ll never figure it out on his own, completely hopeless.”

That’s a relief to hear. Eddie relaxes beneath the shade of his poolside umbrella, glances down at his book again… 

And snaps it shut and scrunches up on his side to face her too. He’ll be able to find his place again later, more or less. The occasional splashes of Steve reaching one side of the pool and flipping around to swim back fades into the background for the first time all day in the face of this new, unexplored conversational territory. 

“So,” he says matter-of-factly. Because he’s reconciled with this a long time ago: Robin has literally helped save his life a number of times, she’s safe. “Clearly you’ve got me all figured out. And there’s no way you could be around that all the time and still get anything done without being… oppositely inclined.”

She nods, and the teeny tiny bit of him that had been braced just in case he was wrong relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t see the appeal, but I’ve literally seen a few girls walk into things when they catch sight of him.”

Eddie snickers, like the hypocrite slightly wired on nerves and relief that he is. Curbs, trash cans, the glass doors of Family Video… he’s been there, done that, and been forced to turn it into a bit so no one catches on to what all of those instances had in common. (Steve smiling at him. Steve looking at him. Just, Steve.)

“Not as many lately though,” Robin confides, a little sad. “Shallow bitches.”

“Shallow as hell,” Eddie agrees. One hundred percent. “They have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

“It’s taking a toll on him,” she continues. “You know, how his hair kinda deflates a little when he’s bummed out? Those great big puppy dog eyes come out and it’s all—” her voice drops in a possible Steve impression “—‘Is it me, Rob? What am I doing wrong?’”

Eddie huffs a wordless disagreement with that whole sentiment. Wrong with Steve? Wrong with Steve? There’s nothing wrong with Steve, in his opinion. Badass scars, heart of gold, hair of the gods, and a little more meat on his bones making him even more solid and dependable? Sign Eddie the fuck up. 

Sure, there’s also the nightmares and a general jumpiness whenever the phone rings or lights flicker or a radio starts to crackle, but the same can be said of pretty much everyone in the Party, Eddie included. It’s perfectly understandable after everything they’ve been through, the number of times they’ve helped save the world. 

“I think that’s why he’s leaning so hard into swimming again,” Robin adds. And even though she seems totally casual, there’s something… not pointed, exactly, but definitely not dull behind her words. She’s giving him a look that Eddie can’t figure out, because he just doesn’t have the same kind of in-tune-ness with her that she and Steve display on a regular basis, having conversations with nothing but stares, blinks, and funny eyebrow twitches. 

He tries anyway. Even pushes his sunglasses up into his hair for a clearer look, but message not received. Frowning, he glances over his shoulder at the pool again. “Because he’s… upset about not going on dates lately?”

Not that Eddie had been paying attention or anything. Not that he’d daydreamed hopelessly a few times that it was because Steve was hung up on him, lingering a bit more than necessary when dropping off and picking up the kids on Hellfire days. Inviting Eddie to hangout days like this. Taking Eddie up on it whenever he offers to smoke the guy out, usually when they both have dark circles from sleeping poorly blooming under their eyes and everything about the no longer in peril world around them feels like too much. Springing for fast food whenever they get the munchies, since Eddie supplied the grass…

“Because he thinks there’s something wrong about him,” Robin corrects, “that he needs to work out.” 

Oh. What—oh. Eddie blinks, reorients, and realizes that the thing he hadn’t been able to read before is concern. “But… he looks so good,” he says dumbly. 

Steve is self-conscious about his weight? Oh no, that won’t do at all. Eddie’s mind is already racing through ways to reassure their friend that he looks great, fantastic, amazing, all the positive adjectives that he knows. He wants to build Steve up, make sure he knows that there are definitely people who would absolutely jump at the chance to be with him. 

Or, you know, right here. Or something. 

Splashing sounds draw his attention back to the pool, and it’s Steve wading up the shallow end towards them, apparently tired out for the time being. And Eddie… panics. 

“Damn, Harrington,” he blurts out, “is it hot out here or is it just you?”

Which is. It’s. Something out of that terrible pickup lines book one of the Corroded Coffin guys found at a yard sale a few weeks ago—he can’t remember who exactly, maybe Jeff?—that they’d all howled over, reading the worst ones out loud in ridiculous voices. Why the hell is that what popped into his head?

Steve pauses with one foot still in the pool, squinting at him. “Uh… It’s definitely hot today. Are you… overheated or something? I could get you some ice water.”

“No, I’m good,” Eddie manages. And then, because he’s an idiot, he continues, “Have I told you lately that you’re very attractive? You must eat magnets for breakfast.”

He catches a glimpse of Robin out of the corner of one eye. For a second he hopes that she might step in and save him from himself, but nope; her face is frozen in a look of appalled fascination. No help coming from that quarter. 

“I,” Steve starts, stepping the rest of the way out of the pool and putting both hands on his hips like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “Dude, are you high?”

If only he were. The proximity of Steve’s naked, dripping wet chest and the gentle roll over the top of his swim trunks seems to have roughly the same effect on him though. 

“Nope,” Eddie squeaks. His face feels incandescent, and he can’t even blame it on a sunburn. And still he opens his mouth again, because he’s already gone this far, might as well commit to the bit. “But we should smoke up later, sweetheart. I think weed be really good together.”

That one wasn’t from the book. It’s an Eddie Munson original. If death took him now, he would not hate it. 

Steve looks to Robin, who shrugs and throws him a towel. He catches it and starts drying his hair, returning his attention to Eddie with a perplexed look. “Low blood sugar?” he asks, and it takes a second for Eddie to place that Steve is still trying to guess why he’s being so weird. 

As if the Freak of Hawkins needs something so pedestrian as a reason. 

“We can order pizza,” Robin suggests in a strangled voice. She’s trying so hard not to laugh, which is good. Probably. 

Eddie can muster a little gratitude for that, right up until he opens his mouth again and “Oh, are you craving pizza? Because I’d love to get a pizz-a you” falls out. 

… Maybe he does have low blood sugar. Or, like. A brain tumor or something. 

Steve sends Robin another look, then shrugs and heads inside the house. Presumably to order pizza, and hopefully for Eddie’s sanity to put on a shirt. 

As soon as the glass door slides shut behind him, Robin whips around and whisper yells, “What the hell was that?!”

Eddie throws himself back on his lounger and covers his face with both hands. “I don’t know. I wanted to cheer him up, make him feel good about himself or something, but—”

“And you thought hitting on him would do the trick? Very badly, I might add!”

“Oh, like you know anything about what works when hitting on dudes!” Eddie shoots back, even though she’s right. So very right. Cruelly correct, to a poor gay man who is suffering. 

He rolls over on the chair, only putting a knee or elbow through the plastic straps beneath him a few times before flopping face down and tugging his own unused towel over his entire head. It’s almost restful under there. The lounger cradles his face a little too high because the back is still angled slightly up for, you know, lounging… and Return of the King is dry and solid under one shoulder, twisting his frame a little oddly, but other than that…

~

By the time Steve comes back outside, Eddie barely notices. He feels slow and drowsy from the heat, everything muffled by the towel. But he does hear a scrape over the concrete beneath him and cracks an eye open to peer through the gaps in the chair. 

It’s a slice of pepperoni and extra cheese on a paper plate, positioned directly below his head, right where he can smell it. 

Fuck, okay. He can’t not get up for food freely offered. It’s just not how Wayne raised him. 

“There you are,” Steve says brightly when Eddie emerges and resituates himself with the plate in hand. “Feeling better? Seemed like the heat was getting to you there.”

“Must’ve,” Eddie replies with a weak laugh. “Thanks.” For the pizza, and for allowing him some semblance of dignity to fall back on after… whatever that had been. Because Steve, above all else, is a good dude; something Eddie has been all too aware of for over a year now. 

Steve passes him a can of Mountain Dew and taps his own Coke can against it like a toast. “Don’t mention it. And, uh, Eds…” He’s starting to smile, just a little. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I think you're the gratest.”

Somewhere to Eddie’s other side, Robin chokes on her drink and has to cough a few times to clear it. 

Eddie just stares, jaw dropped open and feeling flushed all over, heart in his throat. Even with his hair still wet and smelling strongly of chlorine, Steve has somehow retained that signature swoop. Maybe he fixed it while he was inside, procuring pizza and slipping into an old and raggedy high school gym shirt that makes him only slightly less biteable. 

And that smile, fully bloomed now and brighter than the afternoon sun. Like he’s decided, playfully, to meet Eddie at his level no matter how dumb it is. 

“Alright,” Robin rasps. “Okay. I’m just gonna go inside to finish my summer reading while you dingi do… whatever this is.” Followed by the creak of her chair as she clambers off. 

“Don’t mess with the thermostat,” Steve calls after her. He turns slightly to do it and releases Eddie from his tractor beam stare, letting Eddie breathe again—when had he stopped doing that? And then those hazel eyes are back on him, hypnotizing. “Well? Cat got your tongue, or do you have any more?”

The words are… different, now that they’re alone. Quieter. Steve is leaning forward slightly, legs over the side of the chair as he faces Eddie. Elbows on his knees and Coke can dangling forgotten from one big hand. His stare is intense in a way that is almost too terrifying to try to read into. 

Eddie wets his lips nervously. “No, I… I’ve got more.” He sits up a little straighter, turns to put his feet down on the shaded but still warm concrete and face Steve head-on. “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”

It sounds, feels, almost terrifyingly like a confession. 

Steve’s grin gets impossibly brighter and Eddie is back to not daring to breathe, because what is happening. “Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.”

Which is. That’s. Does he? Eddie is having some sort of out of body experience trying to think back. 

The part of him that’s still anchored in bones and nerves and skin takes a deep breath. Committing to it. 

“Of all the beautiful curves on your body, your smile is my favorite,” he hears himself say, and it’s probably the plainest, most honest words he’s uttered in his entire twenty-one years of life. 

It’s not like he thinks Steve is going to punch him for saying it. Or even for saying it like that. Good dude, inescapable. But he wasn’t expecting the guy’s eyes to go big and molten, or for him to swallow hard, all while that amazing smile never dims. 

“I’m… Shit, I’m going to give you a kiss, Eddie. If you don't like it, you can return it.”

And then Steve leans forward, and does. 

~

Half an hour later, Robin comes back outside to check on them and finds the two young men twined together on one lounger. Steve is sprawled half on top of Eddie, who looks like he’s holding him in place with both legs and teasing a half eaten slice of pizza against Steve’s mouth. Steve snaps at it with his teeth, and Eddie yanks it away but then goes back in to tap it against his lips anyway with a laugh, loose and easy. Happy. 

They both look so happy together. 

She knew it. All she’d had to do was get those two pining idiots talking about something real—even if Eddie had surprised her with a deeply unexpected means of doing so. Whatever, he’s weird, nothing new there. The important thing is that her plan to end her two best friends’ ridiculous mutual pining for one another had worked. 

And Steve hadn’t believed her when she’d insisted that the metalhead definitely doesn’t think it’s a bad thing that his clothes all fit a little more snug these days. Ha. One more tally on her own You Rule column. 

Feeling magnanimous, Robin decides to wait until they’re done with lunch to turn the hose on them. 

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Catching up! So today we’re mostly having replies related to all the stuff we posted recently.

Starting with the most important question.

Anonymous asked:

Wait, Idia got called a brocon? When?

He did! Grim called him a brocon in 5-13 right after we saw Ortho for the first time :3 (timestamp on 5:42 just in case)

Anonymous asked:

How does that smoke beer donut taste?

(this is about this drawing)

Very smoky! And like something Gidel isn’t supposed to eat…

Anonymous asked:

I wanna see some of your traditional art

Actually, Anon, you’re looking at it…

The majority of things that we post daily was originally drawn traditionally, and then coloured digitally. I really want to do more art that is 100% traditional, but never get a chance to for a bunch of reasons :(

Anonymous asked:

I love your analysis holy cow! see its because of Book 5 that i cant stop seeing Vil and Rook as mom and dad. i love this ship mind you, (they are my comfort ship and it gives me life whenever you draw them you beautiful soul) but even if some didnt see them as a romantic couple--in my opinion they still have that VIBE you know? Like whenever they're there you just cant help but feel like BRO THEY WOULD BEAT UP YOUR BULLIES AND THEN GROUND YOU AND SEND YOU TO YOUR ROOM FOR FIGHTING IN THE FIRST PLACE LOL is it just a me feeling?

(this is related to this post)

Thank you for your kind words, Anon! I am very happy you enjoyed the analysis and that you like my RookVil art <3

Yeah, I think these two being very parental is pretty obvious and pretty intentional! All jokes aside, Pomefiore trio really feels like it was written in a way that they would read as a family. We don’t usually like this trope because characters playing house could get pretty boring, and a lot of family-related tropes don’t resonate with us at all. So I am surprised to this day that we love Pomefiore’s vibes so much. I’m guessing that it’s because of how unusual of a family they are, how Epel actually fights with Vil a lot, and how he grows from being a little brat to being a little brat that is eager to grow and excited to show his senpais his new cool magic tricks, while they tease him but still are very proud and excited for him. Like, they’re strict and would smack him (well, Vil would) but they also want him to grow. Woah, that sounds way too wholesome ew lol

Anyways! Even if we exclude Epel, and this is another thing I’ve talked about a lot, I genuinely feel like Rook and Vil were intentionally written as a couple that has been together for quite some time, at least coding-wise. There are just too many tropes and situations that they have that are usually used for couples… Alright I’ll stop myself or I’ll rant about them again even though I just did a couple of weeks ago.

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

I just love baby Vil so much, makes me wonder what happened

(this is about this drawing)

Adults with shitty opinions + kids that can’t separate reality from fiction happened… truly, two of the worst things that could happen to a possible friendship between actors.

A couple of asks about this drawing:

Anonymous asked:

Oh oh! I saw! Che'nya art! We (smiley kitty fans) are starving! Thank you for the food! It is delicious! May we have another plate, please?

Poor smiley kitty fans! :( I am so sorry you’re starving! Please enjoy your food.

Unfortunately I don’t have any more smiley catfood for you…….. yet.

Anonymous asked:

*see Chenya *

*starts biting at the bars of my containment*

Better question for him..... What that tongue do??? 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

What that tongue doesn’t do, Anon? Wink

Anonymous asked:

Question. How much of Riddle's body do you think Che'nya would lick to clean him?

In theory, he’d probably get bored pretty quickly, but I kind of want him to just keep licking… Riddle thought it would be over 15 minutes ago, but Che’nya’s still licking… The moment he would be done with his face, ears and head (cat saliva in Riddle’s hair…), Riddle would realise that Che’nya is determined to lick him all over. Time to call Trey…

blackbutlerfandomnerddomain asked:

Riddle gets licked my Chenya often in my lil delulu ass world

Sometimes Che’nya randomly appears, licks his cheek and disappears again.

Anonymous asked:

Bro I gotta know, what do the tweel's dick(s) look like on their merform? I was scrolling on ur bluesky and saw this one with jade and idia and something between idia's legs and I was like "is that his dick?" If so DAYUM! May that bussy rest in peace

Love your art and speedpaints btw💗

Thank you for enjoying my art and especially my speedpaints! I am very happy to hear that <3

Hehe I’m glad you liked that one! I had a lot of fun with that piece.

I feel like I draw merpeen differently every single time lol but I love the design we came up with for that Jade/Idia drawing, and in fact I do have a post in which I talk about how it probably works! There aren’t any pictures there, but there are some interesting thoughts…

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Just Like This

Summary: Working a second job in a bar to help pay for Sammy’s education, Dean finds a kindred spirit in bar manager Y/N. When a drunk Douchebag gets too handsy with her, Dean quickly jumps to her defence but faces harsh consequences.

Pairing: Bartender!Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Rating: Teen

Bingo Square: Getting Fired for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: sexual assault (groping), fluff, angst, fighting, minor violence, Chuck is a complete and utter asshole in this, getting fired, quitting in solidarity, first kiss, friends to lovers

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Okay, it feels like an age since I’ve written anything that’s just pure floof. I hope you enjoy this fluffy, protective, besotted Dean fic. Please be kind. I’ve had my angst hat on for a long time, and though this was really refreshing, it’s also a little daunting!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a comment. It really does fuel a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

It wasn’t the best job in the world, but as part-time work went, Dean knew it could be a hell of a lot worse than this. He worked with his dad in the garage during the day and worked four nights a week and two shifts at the weekend in Shurley’s Sports Bar. His wages and tips went to his dad to help pay for Sammy’s education. Sure, the kid had a full ride to Stanford; however, he still needed to pay for accommodation after freshman year and the thousands of books he needed for his coursework. And at least this way, his dad didn’t put himself in an early grave by working all the hours God gave him. Lord knows he’d done enough of that when they were kids.

Shurley’s was a decent bar. It had a prime location between the University of Kansas campus and downtown, so it always has a steady stream of customers. It quietened during the summer when the students went home or on their travels, but the locals still made trade steady enough. The owner, Chuck, was a bit of a dick, but he barely showed his face around the place, and the other staff were decent, making it a great place to work.

“Hey, Dean,” Y/N said as she came out of the back office. Y/N was the bar manager and a great girl. They had a lot in common; both lost their mothers when they were young and looked after their younger siblings while their fathers worked three jobs to try and make ends meet. Y/N’d had to drop out of college when her father took unexpectedly sick, having to take care of him and her little sister. Now that her father had passed and her sister had a full ride to another prestigious college, Harvard, Y/N lived in the tiny apartment above the bakery where she worked four days a week and in the bar four nights a week and every Saturday night. The rest of the time, she studied part-time to finish her college education and sent every spare cent she had to her sister in Boston.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled at her. She was pretty, too, and Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that he had a massive crush on her. Not that anything would ever happen because she was her, and he was… well, he wasn’t good enough for a girl like that. “How are ya, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, Dean. How are you? Oh! Did you manage to get Sam’s apartment sorted?” Y/N asked, and he smiled that she’d remember such a thing.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. We managed to get the rest of the deposit together,” Dean said. “Thanks for the extra shifts, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Y/N smiled. “I still can’t believe landlords can actually do that,” Y/N shook her head as she headed behind the bar and started filling the refrigerators with bottles of beer and wine to prepare for the busy Friday night shift.

“Yeah, us either. But it’s done, and he has somewhere to live,” Dean said as he put the last menus and condiment buckets on the tables. “What needs to be done next, boss?” he asked, smirking when Y/N chuckled. She hated being called that, but he seemed to be the only one she didn’t scold for it.

“I could use a hand changing over the barrels if you’ve got time?” she said, breaking up the cardboard that the bottles had been housed in.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean headed into the storeroom and started shifting the beer barrels behind the bar as Y/N continued putting bottles in the fridges and replacing the almost empty spirit bottles with full ones to accommodate the busiest night of the year: Friday night football and Freshers Week.

The bar was packed with customers, the warm, sunny weather drawing even more of them in than usual, and of course, Chuck had decided tonight was a good night to show face and ‘help’, putting the staff on edge. Dean had gone with the head down and get on with it attitude, glad it was three deep at the bar so he had an excuse not to have to entertain Chuck for very long.

Y/N had been running around after Chuck all night, finding this paperwork and that invoice and the employee payroll for the past six weeks. Eventually, when he couldn’t possibly ask for anything more, she’d escaped the office, having brazenly told her boss that she was needed front of house to help serve customers.

“I swear,” she’d said as she tied her little black server’s apron around her waist, “It’s like he fucking knew tonight would be the busiest night but still came to check months old paperwork! God, that man is insufferable!”

It wasn’t often that Y/N showed her annoyance, and Dean couldn’t help but think it was cute. Though, admittedly, that could be his crush talking, her furrowed brow and tiny pout were adorable.

“What can I do to help?” he asked as she took her place behind the bar.

“I should be asking you that question!” she giggled. “What do you need me to do?”

“We could do with someone collecting and cleaning the empty glasses, if you wouldn’t mind?” he responded, smiling as she picked up a basket, cleaning spray, and a cloth before he’d finished his sentence.

“You got it,” she winked and headed onto the floor to clear and wipe the tables down. And that, Dean thought, is what makes a good boss. Someone who works with the team to achieve the same goal. Someone who isn’t afraid of stepping in to help by doing the most mundane tasks that are below their pay grade.

Y/N was a breath of fresh air for him in so many ways. She was bubbly and caring, and no matter what was thrown her way, she responded with an air of calmness and dignity that he admired.

“Hey, man. What can I get ya?” Dean asked the next patron, finally taking his eyes off the girl slowly taking over his every thought.

“Be careful,” Dean said as Y/N headed back onto the floor to clear more glasses and tables. “It’s getting rowdy out there. You know what those college boys can be like.”

“Thanks, Dean,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He knew she would be. He’d seen her handling every kind of drunk customer. Still, he’d watch her closely because he was more worried than usual. The crowd tonight seemed even more enthused thanks to the local sports team playing. It still surprised him how often the female staff got touched inappropriately and had the most vulgar things said to them by too drunk and far too confident men. More than once Dean had had to step in and stop something from going too far, and he’d do it as many times as he needed to for Y/N or any of the other female staff.

Y/N managed to get around most of the bar unscathed, but there was a particularly boisterous table of men who only frequented the bar when the Chiefs played. Dean had been watching them all night because they seemed to have forgotten their age and tried to out-drink their much younger counterparts. They’d already run their mouths off to the bar staff, and now one of them in particular had their beady eye on Y/N as she moved from table to table, collecting empty glasses and bottles.

Swapping her tray out for an empty one, Y/N made her way over to their table, and the second she got close enough, the balding guy with the beady eye was quick to rear his hand back and smack her ass. Dean’s hackles rose, and he was on high alert as he watched her give the douchebag a piece of her mind. But he didn’t stop. Douchebag wrapped his arms around her waist and tried pulling her onto his lap. All the while, his douchebag little friends laughed and cheered him on like he’d won a fucking prize.

Dean saw red as he ran around the bar and strode purposely over to the group of middle-aged men amid a mid-life crisis and pulled Y/N from his hold, dragging her behind him to protect her.

“The lady told you to leave her alone. I suggest you do that,” Dean fumed, only getting angrier at Douchebag’s smirk.

“Oh, ladies and gentlemen, we have a jealous boyfriend trying to protect his girl! You know, if she were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t let her out the house wearing something so…” he paused as he leered up and down Y/N’s body, “revealing.”

“Listen, asshole, you don’t want to piss me off right now. Why don’t you and your buddies call it a night and go home? You’ve clearly had too much to drink, and we don’t take kindly to people assaulting our staff here,” Dean’s jaw was clenched, but he’d somehow managed to keep his voice steady.

“Sorry, man,” Douchebag smirked as he stood. “Just can’t help myself when I see a pretty girl showing off half her body like a Goddamn little tease. She’s asking for it, really.”

That was the last straw, and as Douchebag made one final (and unfortunately successful) attempt to get his hands on Y/N, Dean pulled his fist back and punched him square on the nose. The resounding crack as Dean broke the guy’s nose was satisfying, as were the synchronised grimacing ‘oohs’ that the audience this little corner of the bar had attracted.

“You broke my nose, asshole!” Douchebag spluttered. “I’m reporting you for assault!”

“You do that,” Y/N said, “and I’ll have you arrested, too. This whole bar and the CCTV saw you grope me twice and clearly saw me trying to get you off me! What he did,” she pointed at Dean, “was save me from being sexually assaulted!”

“Come on, man,” one of Douchebag’s friends said, patting him on the back. “Let’s get you to the hospital. It’s not worth it.”

“Damn straight it’s not!” Dean yelled. “Any way you spin this, he doesn’t win, so get the hell out and don’t come back!”

Tail between their legs, Douchebag and his friends left the bar. The second the door shut behind them, Dean was next to Y/N, checking her for injuries.

“I’m fine, Dean,” she insisted, but her eyes told a different story. The encounter had shaken her up, and Dean wanted to fix it, needed to fix it.

“No, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re–” Dean began but was interrupted by the shrill voice of Chuck.

“Winchester, my office, now! You too, Y/N.”

Seeing Y/N sitting beside him on the other side of the desk was strange. This was where she did all the paperwork, payroll, ordering, and invoicing, so to see Chuck on her chair was disconcerting. And not good.

“I don’t know what was going on out there–” Chuck began, and Dean scoffed in disbelief.

“You’re bar manager was sexually assaulted by a customer. That’s what happened!” Dean sat forward on his chair, raising his voice. He only calmed when Y/N placed her hand on his forearm.

Chuck pursed his lips at his outburst and continued speaking as if Dean hadn’t interrupted.

“I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, sexual assault or not,” Chuck looked pointedly at Y/N before he continued. “It’s no excuse for my staff to behave violently.”

“You have got to be kidding me!” Dean fumed. “That… scumbag… touched her ass and her breasts and tried to force her into his lap! You see those bruises, right?” he asked as he pointed to the dark purple fingerprint marks on her arms.

“Inappropriate comments, slurs, even touching, is to be expected when you work in a bar–” Chuck was interrupted again, this time by Y/N.

“There are no touching policies in every strip club in the country for a reason, Chuck! You cannot expect it to be any different in a fratboy sports bar! No one should go to work expecting that being sexually assaulted is okay!”

“For God’s sake, Y/N! So what a guy touched your ass and tits! You should be flattered!”

“It was sexual assault, Chuck! That guy,” Y/N pointed behind her in the general direction of the bar, “touched me without permission, and I could have him charged! You too with how you’re behaving!”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic! I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how prudish you are!”

“Hey, that is–” Dean interjected, but Chuck kept talking.

“Dean, you’re fired. I cannot, and will not, allow a violent brute to work in my bar.”

“You can’t do that!” Y/N protested.

“Watch it, or you’ll be gone, too!” Chuck threatened, but Dean knew it was an empty one with her. He needed her too much. The bar would burn to the ground without her in charge.

“No need. I quit. Effective immediately. I cannot, and will not,” Y/N glared at Chuck as she repeated his words to him, “work in a place where I’m expected to be sexually harassed and assaulted and ignore it. I cannot, and will not, work for a man who fires a good person for helping someone in need.”

Standing, Y/N took off her apron and name tag and threw them on the desk. She unhooked the keys from her belt and pulled the cash box towards her, opening it and pulling out two brown envelopes, handing one to Dean and putting the other in her pocket. Once she’d locked the cash box, she tossed her keys down on the cheap metal desk with a satisfying clang.

“Really? You’re going to quit over him?” Chuck scoffed.

“Yes. Dean is worth a thousand shitty bar jobs like this one, and I’d choose him over any of them in a heartbeat,” Y/N said with her head held high. “I hope you know you’ve just lost your two best workers on the busiest night of the year. Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

Dean didn’t protest. He stood up, smirked at Chuck because he just couldn’t help himself, and followed Y/N out of the bar and onto the street.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t need to do that. I’m a big boy, and I can look after myself,” Dean said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“I know you can, and yes, I did. That was unfair and undeserved. Especially because it was my fault,” Y/N responded.

“Hey, don’t ever… it wasn’t your fault. Things like that are never the woman’s fault, you know that, right?” Dean couldn’t believe she’d ever think something like that would be her own doing.

“I know, but if I’d listened to you and let Marcus clear tables instead of me, none of this would’ve happened.”

“No. I won’t hear it. You didn’t ask to be groped by a balding douchebag going through a mid-life crisis, sweetheart. Don’t ever apologise for someone else’s wrongdoing,” he reassured her.

“So, what do we do now? We both kinda needed that job,” Y/N chuckled, but it held no humour.

“Well, I might know a guy who owns a wine bar downtown. A classy establishment, so the tips are better. And we’d be treated right,” Dean said, thinking of the bar Cas had tried to get him to work in for months.

“You have a buddy with a bar, and you chose to stay working in that shithole?” Y/N asked in disbelief. “Why? What would possess you to stay there? Willingly?”

“It wasn’t all bad,” Dean smirked. This wasn’t where he envisioned this conversation going–if it ever happened at all, that is–but the perfect opportunity had presented itself and he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t take it. “I got to see you almost every day.”

“Come on! You did not stay there for me!” Y/N scoffed, and Dean shrugged his shoulders, his lips tugging upwards in a shy smile.

“I did, actually. Can’t think of anyone better to spend so much time with.”

“Dean Winchester,” she grinned. “Are you flirting with me?” The teasing tone in her words was one he’d never heard before, and he liked it.

“Do you want me to be flirting with you?” he’d asked, needing to hear her say it before he did something stupid because he’d misread the signals.

“Yeah… I think I do,” Y/N giggled, stepping closer to him, bumping their arms together as they stepped in sync down the sidewalk.

“Yeah?” he asked, checking again because, quite frankly, she was her and he was him.

“Yeah.”

Dean stopped walking and gently grabbed her forearm to stop her from walking ahead. Feeling brave, Dean placed his hands on her cheeks and dipped his head, slowly lowering his lips to hers. Every inch closer he got, he switched his gaze between her lips and her eyes, making sure this was what she wanted.

When there was no hesitation and nowhere else to go, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers. They were as soft as they always looked, softer even, and tasted as sweet as he’d imagined they would.

Y/N pressed herself closer to him with a low hum and slid her arms up his chest, resting one hand on his pec and the other curling around his neck. Dean licked her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth and let him deepen their kiss.

He failed to hold back a groan when his tongue met hers, the feeling so much better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. Dean couldn’t remember how long he’d wanted this, and now that it was happening, he knew he’d do whatever he could to keep her in his arms, just like this.

Tags: @acitygrownwillow @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @nelachu2423 @octoberclidan @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Do You Play?

Day #3 - Prompt: Best Friends | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Goodie (Freak) | Pairing: None | Tags: Making New Friends, Playing D&D

"Can I sit?" a voice beside him asks, startling him.

Goodie looks up, annoyed. He's engrossed in his book, and now there's a boy he's never seen before standing over his lunch table. 

"Uh, I guess?" he answers, because nobody's ever asked to sit with him before. Not even the new kids. Everyone learns pretty fast to stay away from the freak. 

"Cool, thanks," the other boy says. Then adds, "I'm Jeff. My first day," he explains, gesturing around. Yeah, Goodie's aware. He wouldn't be approaching Goodie if he knew anything about anything in this shitty middle school.

Goodie nods as he sits, his lunch tray slapping against the table.

"This is the part where you tell me your name," Jeff prompts, and Goodie sighs. 

"Goodie," he says. Waiting for it: Goody-goody. Little goody two-shoes. Sam Goody.

He's heard it all. He doesn't give a shit anymore. It's unoriginal and tired, and he refuses to play along. Not even for the new kid.

"Do you play?" Jeff asks, seeming to bypass the usual foolishness.

"Play?" Goodie asks.

And Jeff flicks the book in Goodie's hand: Dungeons & Dragons: Rules for Fantastic Medieval Wargames Campaigns Playable with Paper and Pencil and Miniature Figures.

Oh. This is what he's gonna make fun of, then. Great.

"Trying to learn, if I could get this read," Goodie says, pointed. Dismissive. 

"Me too," Jeff says, opening his backpack, holding it out for Goodie to look into, and sure enough, there's a copy of a similar book on top of all Jeff's textbooks.

Goodie admits, "That's cool."

"We'd need a referee. Or, a Dungeon Master as they call them in the later books. Do you want to do it?" Jeff asks.

And Goodie does not. He shakes his head no.

"You know anybody else that plays, then?" Jeff asks. 

Goodie doesn't, and he shakes his head again. 

Jeff nods, accepting his answer, "Well. The two of us can play, but one of us has to be the Dungeon Master," Jeff says, picking up his square piece of pizza and taking a big bite. 

Fine. Goodie will be the referee, the Dungeon Master, but he doesn't want to. Not at all.

They have their stuff spread out on the picnic table in the woods outside of the high school, the only secluded place Goodie knew about. They can't exactly do this in the library. Ms. Waterson would have their asses.

But they're finally playing. It took a couple weeks to read, and learn, but he thinks they finally have a working campaign, as basic as it is.

They are both laughing, having a good time, as Jeff rolls the dice again and Goodie reads from behind his folded out Trapper Keeper he's using as a makeshift screen.

He's about to tell Jeff his fate, when Goodie catches movement out of the corner of his eye, but it's gone in a flash, and he feels a sense of dread. 

"Somebody's here," he hisses, and Jeff turns to look. "Don't look, dummy!"

And Jeff swings his head back around, pretending he wasn't looking. Too late for that.

Goodie tries to ignore the bear, or whatever the fuck it might be lurking in the woods, and goes back to stumbling through the shoddy campaign he's tried to cobble together. It's awful. He wants to play, not host. 

Then he sees it again, the movement behind one of the trees.

"Okay, I know you're there. Come kick our asses or whatever, and then leave us the hell alone!" Goodie hollers, not willing to play peek-a-boo all afternoon.

He thinks nothing is gonna happen, but finally a face pops around from behind the tree.

Eddie Munson.

Great.

The eighth-grader with the buzzcut. The one that's an actual freak. Just what they needed.

From everything he's heard, Eddie Munson is mad at the world, and Goodie isn't about to draw any of that negative attention towards himself. He's no fool. So, he looks away, and hopes Eddie will just leave.

They aren't that lucky. Goodie never is, so he doesn't know why he thought today would be any different.

"What're you boys up to?" Eddie asks, walking over towards the table, and Goodie pro-actively reaches out, trying to protect the set-up. They spent weeks on this, and all of their allowance money. He doesn't want to dig the pieces out of the dead leaves on the ground.

"Just playing a game. Dungeons & Dragons. Ever heard of it?" Jeff asks, like a goddamn fool. 

Goodie glares at his new best friend, trying to relay that this is not the kid to talk to. Abort mission, shut up, Jeff.

But Jeff didn't shut up, and now Eddie nods, sitting down at the table, right next to Goodie, and Goodie resists the urge to scoot away. But he doesn't. Show no weakness. That's what his dad always says. Easier said than done.

Eddie picks up his hand-painted dragon miniature and looks at it closely. Carefully. 

And then Eddie smiles, the barest hint of a grin, "Can I join?"

Can Eddie Munson play with them? Oh, sure, and then later they'll all go to The Hideout for a few beers, Goodie thinks, sarcastically.

"Sure!" Jeff says, excited, "Do you want to be the Dungeon Master? Goodie's terrible at it."

Goodie scoffs.

"Hey, either of you play an instrument? There's a talent show coming up. If we win, that'd be some nice cash to get a new campaign going."

Jeff looks at Goodie, and Goodie shakes his head, adamantly.

"Goodie can play the bass! He's pretty good!" Jeff shouts, and Eddie grins. 

"Excellent," Eddie says, a smile splitting his face, "that's excellent."

Goodie can't help it, he grins back, just a little. Maybe this won't be terrible, after all. For now, he pushes his notes towards Eddie so he can get up to speed on what they do have right now, while they all dream about what they might be able to play together in the future.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[essentiallyleaf]

day 22. daddy kink. with. sakura.

758 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, futa!idol x female reader, daddy kink, cockhungry reader, somewhat rough sex, i’m not feeling very funny tonight.

notes.

they just keep getting shorter! i swear it’s not because i’m procrastinating writing until 12 a.m. though. exhaustedly, leaf.

You met the girl in a mall, she was reading Kafka with the most peaceful, relaxed air, like there was a desert around her, when in reality it was so crowded and loud that you couldn’t hear your friend talk to you from across the table at the coffee shop. She later told you she likes to hear the sound of the artificial waterfall beside the escalator while she reads; you told her, go to the river; she told you, it’s not the same, people go to the river to relax, I don’t read to relax; you asked her, what do you read for?; she answered you, I read to understand what the writer is like in bed. Anyway, you went up to her and asked whether she knew if there was a library in the mall - you knew there was one right around the corner, but pick-up lines aren’t your forte; whose forte are they, if truth be told? - and if she had a book to recommend. “Well, it depends, what do you like?” It’s very easy to make conversation, if you think about it: you can start anywhere you want, and it’s like tributary streams, at some point you always end up channeling into your common interests.

It’s just following the course of the river that leads to her writing down her number on the paper towel you’d gotten with your coffee - “It’s Sakura, by the way, but you can call me Kkura,” she said with a warm smile, like she loved her name, like she had chosen it herself - to the two of you meeting again (neither of you used the word date, but in retrospect, well, yeah) in a bar downtown. They didn’t call themselves a gay bar, but the place had queer written all over it; I mean, Monthly Murder Mystery Monday? Really? To the two of you seeing each other four times in the next week, to her asking if you wanted to come to her house to have a drink after the fourth, cause she wanted to show you her wild animal plushie collection. One thing that surely was wild was the sex, that night. Kkura was plunging into your pussy from the back as you were bent over her bed, ass in the air, and she felt huge inside you. Your face was sunk into the soft light gray-brown fur of the sloth when it escaped your mouth.

“Ngh- ahaadhd- …addy!”

“What did you just say?”

“I- Nothing, I’msor-”

“Again.”

The thing about a river’s delta is, it splits very gradually, just one extra fork at a time, so you don’t really notice how wide it has spread until you’re already deep into it. You start calling her daddy every time you’re hungry for her cock, and she feeds you (the unholy sound of your slurps fills the room like there’s three girls sucking it at the same time, but no, it’s just little old you), then every time you’re hungry. She’s the sweetest girlfriend, you know she’d always get you whatever you’re craving if you asked nicely. You call her daddy when it’s just the two of you, then if there’s close friends around. They still smile jokingly when it happens, but they understand, they know what it’s like; not to be with a girl whose rod that can rearrange your insides, but to be lucky enough to be next to someone that you love and to not be afraid to show it. You almost have a slip up the first time you meet her parents: “Dad- Da… Dadaism was, pretty… wacky, wasn’t it? Duchamp, what an eccentric soul, haha!” Even the save is embarrassing, but it’ll be a great story to tell your kids; ok, maybe not your kids, maybe your friends.

She’s your daddy when you sit on her lap and start grinding on it while she’s having breakfast, when you lay your head on her shoulder and she gropes your tits, only covered by a thin beige t-shirt, while you’re watching Worlds, when she fucks you missionary and slaps your thighs until they become red like your cheeks at her parents’ house, and her fingers gently wrap around your throat, and she kisses you like her throat is burning and only you can help relieve it. You can’t separate freshwater and salt, once you’re out in the sea. It’s all mixed together, as one. And it’s not good or bad, it’s all just part of a natural cycle. Sakura, Kkura, daddy; any name, any place, any time.

-

footnotes.

my favorite shirt from Raygun is the one that says ‘Iowa: flee to flourish’. friedly, leaf.

[sugaredrhubarb]

Reading with Ru: Aug/Sept Fic Recs

I know I'm certainly in need of some positivity and escapism lately, so I'm gonna try to do semi-regular fic and book recs! Starting with a retroactive what I've been reading from the past couple of months with this account! (I might go back in time and make an all-time rec list later)

COD

starting with cod because i know most of you go here

Sergeant Squeaks by @charliemwrites - (series of one-shots ghost x reader and price x reader separately) both one of my favourite reader characters and my favourite canon setting depictions of Ghost and Price. their own weird brands of showing love are wonderful; the tension leading to getting together is fantastic, and the sex is super enjoyable.

Ghost Stories by @kneelingshadowsalome - (ghost x medic!reader) I'm repeating myself, but I love Salome's writing. This is where I was first introduced to it, and I think it's really special. Ghost POV as he struggles with developing and then accepting love. felt so real and grounded. angsty and then fluffy, and you can't help but adore the reader as well.

saltwater by @ceilidho - (ghost x reader) It's pretty unlikely any of you don't know Ceil, but on the off chance you haven't given this one a read yet, it really is a must. I lump praise on her pretty regularly, but I don't know anyone who is able to portray their character's emotions as intimately as Ceil. her ghost feels really grounded in all his complexity. there is a common theme in these recs of really enjoyable reader characters, and this is not an exception; the reader feels like a full but still ambiguous character who is vulnerable and strong and really great.

don't leave me locked in your heart by @ohbo-ohno - (ghoap x reader dark!) we all know bo, we all love bo. I always love the way she depicts ghost and soap's dynamic changing and evolving to include the reader. the descent into dark territory in this is really really fun. It's also just hot and well-written! if you haven't read it before, go read it, and then go read all of bo's drabbles and asks on here. genuinely one of my favourite dark but still fun writers. I think she balances it really well.

body electric by @yeyinde and Afterburn by @sprout-fics - (141 + Los Vaqueros x reader) a classic. I've returned to these so many times. sometimes you just want to read dirty, filthy, well done, smut and then warm cozy aftercare. not to wax poetic about pure sex (except that's exactly what one should do), but I think it can be really hard to write group sex like this and still have such insightful and individual glimpses into each character and dynamic, and Lev does it wonderfully. and then it's also hard to find good aftercare fic, and Sprout's feels like literal aftercare for both the reader character and the reader.

other fandoms

tried to curate to themes i think overlap in some of the cod works! and I think most of these can be read fandom blind.

i revisited @winterrose527's fic in August, and even though she already knows how much I love her work, I won't skip a chance to repeat it. Anna writes for asoiaf and is pretty much the queen of Robb Stark/Myrcella Baratheon, but I would say the modern AUs (my favs) can be read almost completely fandom blind. Any contemporary romance enjoyer would love her work. I'm really partial to her kid/single-parent fics. I think it's so hard to get right, and I always adore reading her kid characters and how she approaches love stories when kids are involved. anna's works are always brimming with love and incredible platonic, familiar, parent-child, and romantic relationships (if kid fic isn't your thing she also has a ton of other great fics). personal favs: We Could Be a Little Something, And There They Are, All the Same

Lawless by @goldcranes - (arthur morgan x ofc) age difference, cowboy love story, essentially a romance novel. if goldcranes has no fans, I'm dead. I encourage you to explore her work; very few people write as strongly across multiple fandoms as she does, and each of her works feels like a really strong love story with special characters.

The Odyssey by @sunlightmurdock - (bradley bradshaw x reader) 1980's roman literature prof x virgin student - no need to know top gun. katie's work is another entry in the 'feels like it stands really strongly separately from the source material' category. she has multiple ongoing AU's that I really love, but this one is a favourite. i think she does complex characters really well - their actions always feel intentional, and as flawed as they are, I always love them.

Wouldn't it be Nice by allyoops - (m/f captive A/B/O) if you aren't reading original works smut on ao3 you are missing out and allyoops is a great place to start for noncon, dubcon, age gap, taboo etc. enjoyers. they have a ton of works; usually one shots with lots of really delicious dynamics and different settings and tropes.

An Intoxicating Presence by FormerlyIR - (mob a/b/o haladriel) MOB. A/B/O. HALADRIEL. picks up with Halbrand in prison thanks to undercover FBI agent (and his mate!) Galadriel. does that sound crazy and awesome? well it is. mix it with Gal's internal struggle, the added complication of omegaverse, and overall great writing. really fun and really damn good.

civitas terrena by banalityofweevil - (darklina) angel Alina on an exploration of love in immortality with fallen angel Aleks. honestly, it's just a must-read for enjoyers of writing. incredibly creative with divine (literally and figuratively) imagery. i think one of my comments was on the precision of lulu's diction and I really stand by that.

tinsel into gold by ribbonedhare - (darklina) ddlg and cnc friends, this changed me. it is so warm and soft and my god, is it good. just scrumptious.

Be My Babydoll by KittyDruthers - (darklina) ddlg dollification need I say more

check the reading with ru tag for more!

[midsummer-semantics]

Schoolyard Crush

[This is originally posted to twt as threads, but I'm posting the parts here as a full bit and will update as it updates]

Preschool teacher Steve/Single Dad Eddie

Threads: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[Part 1]

Steve knows he's not allowed to play favorites. All of his kids are amazing (except Daniel, that kid is a rabid chipmunk in a human suit). But most of them are fantastic.

Minnie, though. She's probably his favorite. Big eyes and thousand-watt smile every time Steve comes in the building. He's only been at the job a few months, but every day reminds him why he took the job in the first place. Especially with kids like Minnie, who always grabs "Mr. Steve's" hand and drags him over to do puzzles or read one of the Dr. Seuss books in the little corner library.

As Mother's Day approaches, the other teachers in his pod get the kids set up to make hand-flower bouquets for their mother-figures. Some do it for their grandmother, others for older siblings, some do two for both mom's.

Minnie tugs on Steve's pant leg while he's helping Braden with his hand prints.

"What's up, Minnie-moo?"

"How do I spell 'daddy'?" she asks, a D and A already written on her vase. She's always been so smart.

Steve helps her spell it out, not even questioning it.

He doesn't know a lot about her home life, but maybe she has a dad she considers a mom as well. Kids are always figuring things out as much as their limited experiences can help them understand.

He's not entirely incorrect. At some point, Minnie wants to show off her dad, grabbing Steve by the hand and taking him over to the wall of family photos in the room that he hasn't actually looked at too closely before.

"That's my daddy!" Minnie says excitedly, pointing to a picture of a curly-haired blast-from-the-past smiling at the camera, Minnie clutched in his arms. Steve's not sure how he didn't put two and two together before. Minnie's hair is the same wild curly brown, her eyes too big in an adorable doll-like way, and her clothes a mix of baby band t-shirts and tutus.

"That's your dad?" he asks to clarify.

"Yep!" Minnie says proudly before walking away, leaving Steve staring at the smiling face of his high school crush like it's not the revelation it really is.

Eddie Munson, notorious metalhead shit-stirrer — who Steve was pretty sure was as gay as he is — is the father of his favorite kid. Somehow, that figures. Steve's always had poor judgement.

It's not until a couple of days later that Steve gets the reality check.

It's recess, Minnie running around the playground with her friends when Eddie shows up, in the flesh. He doesn't stop Steve right away, leaning against the gate to watch his daughter screech and giggle with her friends. He looks good, because of course he does, he always has. But it's been 8 years since Steve's seen him and he's a man now, not the awkward, table-top-rant nerd he was in high school.

Steve takes a chance.

"Mr. Munson," he greets with faux happiness, his heart rabbiting in his chest. He keeps his body turned toward the playground, as per protocol, but mostly so he doesn't have to look in Eddie's stupidly beautiful eyes. He wants to look, but he fights it.

It doesn't matter, though, because as soon as Eddie mutters a shocked but quiet, "Steve?" he knows he's done for.

[Part 2]

Before Steve can respond, Minnie comes running up to the gate screeching excitedly.

“Daddy! Daddy! This is Mr. Steve!”

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes soften so quickly at the presence of his daughter that it makes Steve’s teeth ache.

“I know, sweetie,” Eddie says, turning those same soft eyes on Steve now. “I’ve known Mr. Steve a very long time.”

Minnie’s head tilts like a puppy and Steve has the sudden urge to squeeze her until she pops. “What? But Mr. Steve is new here. And you’re too old for him to be your teacher.”

Steve slaps a hand over his mouth to cut off the cackle that nearly escapes. Yep, that’s Eddie’s kid alright.

Eddie, meanwhile, has gone ruby in the face, sputtering at his daughter’s lack of a social filter.

Steve takes pity on him, though he’s still snickering a little as he swings Minnie up into his arms. She giggles delightedly and boops Steve on the nose.

“I wasn’t your daddy’s teacher, Minnie-moo. I was his classmate. Kind of like how you have classmates here,” he explains.

Minnie’s eyes go wide at that. “Were you best friends like me and Grace?!”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to blush. He looks at Eddie for help, finding his own confusion about how to answer her reflected back at him.

“Uh, not exactly,” Steve starts. “But maybe… we could be?”

The last part is said directly to Eddie, who looks a little shocked at the question.

“Oh, uh. Yeah.” Eddie nods, curls bouncing. “Best friends who… maybe get dinner together? Friday?”

Steve can feel his blush deepen. He hasn’t seen heads or tails of Eddie in 8 years and the man is just… asking him out on a date? While Steve’s holding his child? How does Eddie even know Steve might be into that?

Then, Eddie’s eyes dart down to Steve’s work polo, and Steve puts it together. Eddie’s eying the rainbow pin there. Steve’s suddenly grateful for his boss that lets him wear it. The kids just think it’s pretty, but it’s really coming in handy right now.

“Yeah, Friday,” Steve agrees.

“Seven?”

“Seven is perfect.”

Suddenly, Minnie makes an indignant noise, a pout on her lips. “But I’ll be with Grampa on Friday.”

‘Grampa’ must be the older gentleman that normally picks Minnie up, Steve supposes.

“That’s the idea, kiddo. Time to go,” Eddie says, shooting a subtle wink Steve’s way.

Steve gets her passed off to the front office girl, still standing near the gate as Eddie and Minnie take their leave. Eddie stops by the gate once more, Minnie’s head resting on his shoulder while she fiddles with a band pin on his jacket, still looking put out.

“Seven on Friday.”

“Seven on Friday,” Steve confirms. Then, much lower: “You can tell me how you became a daddy.”

Eddie’s smile turns a little wicked, a flash of high-school Eddie rushing to the front of Steve’s mind.

“Well, Mr. Steve, if we’re 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 friends, I can show you as well.”

Steve inhales sharply, listening to Eddie’s responding cackle as he starts walking away.

Friday it is.

[Part 3]

Steve's not sure he's ever been so nervous for a date before. Which is ridiculous because he knows Eddie. He's known Eddie since he was 15. Surely that has to count for something? But no, the moment he sees Eddie at the table, everything Steve knows leaves his brain in a rush.

Dinner is nice. Great food, better company, but the biggest question is still harping on him.

"Go ahead," Eddie prompts after a time, "Ask."

Steve blushes, knowing he's been clocked. "Sure, yeah. Um... so... Minnie."

Eddie snorts, clearing his throat with a drink of his wine, like he's lubricating his throat for the answer.

Okay, bad thought.

DOWN BOY.

"Minnie is mine, in case you're wondering."

Steve blinks, taken aback.

"Yeah, clearly. Same—" he gestures to Eddie, "everything."

Eddie grins, nodding. "Yeah, clearly. Her other dad is..." Eddie pauses, visibly recalibrating several explanations. "His IUD failed," he settles on. "We weren't dating, just casual, but he got pregnant anyway. And I'm the idiot who didn't wrap it before I tapped it."

Steve waits on baited breath, knowing there's more.

"He wanted to... terminate," Eddie continues. "Even made a couple of appointments, but never went through with them. He never wanted kids and I respected that! It's not my body, ya know? But I think part of me always hoped. And then he made me a deal: he would go through with the pregnancy in exchange for relinquishing all parental rights. No child support, no contact, total single parent life."

Eddie shrugs, like that's just the way the cookie crumbles and not like it was a drastic life decision.

"And I got Minnie out of it," he says, pride clear in his voice. Steve melts, seeing the obvious love in Eddie's voice. "And I wouldn't change a thing about it."

Steve nods, not getting it personally, but empathetic nonetheless. "She's a fantastic person. You've done an amazing job raising her," he says, reaching across to take Eddie's hand. It feels over-familiar, but Eddie doesn't pull away, just turns his hand to interlace their fingers together.

"And you've taught her so much since you started. Every day she comes home and it's 'Mr. Steve' this and

'Mr. Steve' that. I swear, I don't know how I didn't put it together sooner." Steve chuckles despite the way his face heats at the praise. He takes another drink, just to steel himself before he says, "Well, now you've told me how you became a daddy... Still up to show me?"

[Part 4]

They barely make it back to Steve's fully clothed. Eddie had offered up his place, but Steve didn't want the first time he's in Eddie and Minnie's house to be marked by sex they're apparently both eager to engage in.

Plus he really hopes this isn't the only time this will happen, or be the only date they go on, so he can wait to see the more domestic parts of Eddie's life until they have the "what are we?" talk.

Steve nearly leaves his cardigan in the Uber after it was yanked off by Eddie who apparently has no qualms about exhibitionism (Steve leaves a hefty tip in apology), but they managed to stumble into his apartment still mostly in-tact.

Eddie backs him against the front door the moment they're inside, his lips planted against Steve's throat.

"Tell me what you want, sweet boy," Eddie murmurs, seemingly careful not to leave any damning marks on him. Steve would let him if he knew it wouldn't subject him to a world of shit at work on Monday. His coworkers are nosey, and the kids are likely to ask how he got a bruise on his neck without realizing what it is.

"I already told you what I wanted," Steve groans, his hands fisted in Eddie's shirt, contemplating the merits of ripping it off entirely.

Eddie chuckles, a dark thing, and pulls back to look at Steve with dangerous clarity. His thigh is wedged between Steve's, right up against his rapidly growing erection, and Steve's practically vibrating with need.

"Remind me again what that was, sweetheart," Eddie prompts, grinding his hips forward and his thigh up, knocking a shaky moan from Steve's panting lips.

"Ah! Want- want you to show me—" he chokes out, rutting down against Eddie's leg, cursing the layers between them.

"Gonna have to be more specific," Eddie teases, even though he's already working on the buttons of Steve's shirt.

Steve's brain is already fuzzy, rutting mindlessly against Eddie's thigh while Eddie works his shirt open enough to attach his lips to his collarbone. There he finally sucks a mark in the safe zone, the first of many, Steve hopes.

“I w-want you to show me how you became a daddy,” Steve stutters out, fully yanking on Eddie’s shirt at this point. He needs him naked and inside him yesterday.

“Good boy.”

It’s a flurry of rushed movements after that. Clothes go flying, Steve trips on his way to the bedroom like he doesn’t know where he’s going, and Eddie’s laugh lights him up inside.

Eddie pins him to the bed, staring down with stars in his eyes.

“You want me to be your daddy, baby?” he asks, running his hands up Steve’s sides in a way that’s too ticklish for the words he’s saying. “Fuck you raw and keep you full ‘til it takes?”

Steve whimpers, reaching for Eddie’s arms to tug him down.

“Yes, daddy. Please,” Steve pants. Eddie’s cock brushes against his own every time Steve’s hips jump, needing to feel him. “Want it. Want your baby. Give your daughter a sibling.”

Eddie groans and captures his mouth in a filthy kiss before reaching for the lube.

Steve’s mind — and mouth — run through all kinds of scenarios while Eddie opens him up. If only he could get pregnant. Steve’s always wanted kids, a big family, a partner to love and kids to spoil. Maybe 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 could do that for him. It’s way too soon, but —

“Fuck, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦,” Eddie moans, sucking another mark into the crease where’s Steves hip meets his thigh, three-fingers deep already. “You gotta shut up before I tie you down and keep you forever.”

“Want it, want it,” Steve repeats, past the point of caring that he’s a pathetic begging mess. “Please, daddy. Give it to me!”

And he does. Eddie’s careful when he finally presses in, but Steve’s having none of it. He wants this fast and dirty. They can make love later. He needs Eddie to breed him over and over until nature and the universe rewrites itself.

Eddie’s hammering at his insides, one hand jerking Steve off, the other holding himself up as he sucks another mark right over Steve’s heart. 

"𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺!" is all the warning Steve gets out before he’s cumming hard, back bowing and blood boiling.

“Steve, baby, 𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬!" Eddie grunts, finding his own end deep inside Steve.

It won’t take, but Steve can pretend it does. He can hold Eddie close like they’ve been doing this all their life and will keep doing it forever.

“God, I hope so, baby,” Eddie breathes against his neck.

Oops, apparently Steve was thinking out loud again.

“Me too, daddy,” he says nonsensically.

Eddie snorts and kisses the side of his sweaty throat. He leaves his face buried there while they attempt to come back down, just breathing together.

After a moment, Eddie mumbles, almost too quietly for Steve’s ears to pick up: “How many dates do I have to take you on until we can tell Minnie?”

Steve’s heart stops and restarts. Eddie wants to do that? Roleplaying was one thing, but he actually wants his daughter to know they’re… what? Dating? Officially together? Trying to get pregnant even though that’s not going to work?

Okay, maybe not the last part. She’s only 4. 

“Um,” Steve hesitates, swallowing around a dry lump. “It’s your call, Eddie. You already know I love her.”

Eddie nods against his shoulder and tucks in tighter against him.

They don’t have to figure it out yet. They have time.

[Part 5]

Steve’s pretty sure he has a perpetual blush every time he sees Minnie now. Never mind that his coworkers seem to know exactly how close he is with her dad just by looking at him. It’s like he has “Daddy’s Boy” written across his forehead now.

The Friday before Father’s day, Steve and his co-teachers are helping the children make hand-print awards that say things like “# 1 dad” or “# 1 papa”.

“Mr. Steve,” Minnie says from across the little table that he and several of her classmates are sitting around.

It takes all of his self control not to keep her plastered to his side at all times. Eddie desperately wants to tell her about them, but Steve’s worried about confusing her.

He’s also worried that Eddie will change his mind, but he’s terrified to say that out loud, like it’ll manifest immediately if he gives it breath. The fact Eddie is so adamant means the world to him, but his own history with flighty parents means he doesn’t want to risk being that in Minnie’s life. She means as much to him as Eddie does, possibly more because she’s such an angel and he would be lucky to be there for her, however Eddie wants him to be.

So when she says his name in her little voice, his heart flutters and his focus is 100% on her -- a dangerous task when he has Daniel next to him with paint all over his hands.

“Yes, Minnie-moo?” Steve asks, the nickname still making her giggle.

“How do you spell rockstar?” she asks. She has her pencil poised and ready to let him list off the letters. Steve does, doing his best to not let Daniel run amok with gold fingers while helping Minnie create a # 1 Rockstar award for her dad.

“Thank you!” Minnie says excitedly before grabbing her art and running over to Robin. Steve just knows Eddie’s going to cry when he sees it. Hell, Steve can feel the burning of tears behind his own eyes as he thinks about the two of them. They’re a perfect family, and the fact that Eddie wants him to be part of that, even so soon, is something Steve still can’t wrap his head around.

Instead, he tries to refocus on helping the other kids who are making gifts for their parents, and probably doing a terrible job at pretending he’s not always half-watching Minnie.

At the end of the day, while Steve’s chasing the kids around during recess, a gorgeous swath of dark curls catches his eye. He spins toward the gate, spotting Eddie among the other eager parents waiting for their children.

“Happy Father’s day,” Steve says when he approaches the gate, once again keeping his attention mostly on the children playing.

“Thank you again, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sending him a wink.

Again, meaning after Steve texted him first thing that morning. Steve feels his entire face heat up because what he actually told him that morning was “happy father’s day daddy.”

“Minnie has a gift for you,” he deflects.

“I’ll grab it!” Robin pipes up, nearly scaring the shit out of Steve in the process.

“Oh! Uh… thank you, Ms. Robin,” Steve stammers, before dropping low to scoop a giggly Minnie into his arms. “You ready to give your daddy a happy father’s day?”

“We made cards!” she tells him, proud as anything.

“Yeah?” Eddie chuckles. “Is it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,” she states, suddenly very serious. Steve and Eddie both glance at each other, nervous smiles on their faces.

As Robin reappears from the classroom, arms held behind her back, Minnie wiggles in Steve’s arms. “Ms. Robin, I can give them to them, right?”

“Of course you can, Minnie,” Robin replies with a megawatt smile.

“Mr. Steve, can you put me down please?”

Steve blinks a few times, thoroughly confused. “Oh! Sure, of course, Miss Minnie.”

He sets her on the ground, looking over to find the overly fond look on Eddie’s face at the entire interaction.

“Thank you,” Minnie chimes, smoothing her My Little Pony dress out immediately.

“You can walk her out, dingus,” Robin mutters as Minnie walks toward the door to the office.

“But--” he starts, cut off by his boss who opens the door and waves him inside. Steve hesitates only for a moment before chasing after Minnie, scooping her back into his arms before carrying her out to the parking lot. Eddie has moved toward the front door, already waiting for them both with open arms. Steve just steps into them, melting immediately into a group hug with two of his favorite people.

“I missed you both so much,” Eddie coos, planting a smacking kiss to Minnie’s cheek while surreptitiously squeezing Steve’s hip. 

Minnie kisses him back before turning dangerously in Steve’s grasp to call out: “Ms. Robin! My awards!”

“Of course, Minnie, darling,” Robin says with over-inflated grandeur, bowing and then holding several pieces of paper between the bars. Steve shuffles them close enough for Minnie to grab, confused as to why there’s more than one.

“Here,” Minnie says, immediately holding them out for Eddie to take without explanation. Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he accepts them, turning them over to see.

The first is the one Steve helped her with, her hand the centerpiece of an award with # 1 Rockstar written on a would-be plaque.

“Oh, Minnie,” Eddie whispers, tears gathering in his eyes. Steve wants to gather him back up in his arms, but refrains in public.

“There’s more,” Minnie states proudly, and Steve watches Eddie shuffle the top award to the back.

The second says “# 1 grampa” spelled exactly as she pronounces it. Steve’s eyes burn and he’s not able to wipe away the tear that escapes since he has his arms full of the thoughtful 4-year-old.

“It’s for Grampa Wayne,” she explains, like Eddie might be confused.

Eddie sniffles, pressing the award stack to his chest as he says, “He’s gonna love it, sweet pea.”

Minnie looks proud, which makes Steve feel proud too, even if he knows Robin helped her with it. He’s so proud of Minnie for being the amazing little girl she is, but also so proud of Eddie for being the incredible father that she needs.

Eddie moves in to wrap them both back in a hug when Minnie cries: “Wait there’s one more!”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, his voice a little strained despite the breathtaking smile on his face.

He shuffles the pages once more, freezing when the last one is revealed. 

Steve only helped with the first one; he had no idea she made three of them.

He stands there with Minnie in his arms, watching Eddie’s eyebrows draw together and then up, the tears in his eyes pooling even more. It’s all incredibly worrying because Steve’s never seen Eddie cry this much, and now he’s terrified about what the final one says.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asks after a moment, glancing at Robin for a second, who looks on the verge of tears herself despite the smile on her face.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, and then turns the pages over for Steve to see.

There, on the would-be plaque under Minnie’s tiny hand print, says “#1 Steve.”

Steve gasps, eyes raking over the scribbly handwriting again and again.

“Oh no,” Minnie mumbles, her smile falling and big brown eyes tearing up, “It makes you sad.”

Steve chuckles around a sob and holds Minnie tighter, burying his face in her familiar curly hair. “No, baby girl. I’m so happy.”

“Happy tears?” she asks when he pulls back.

“Very happy tears. My number one Minnie,” he replies. Her face lights up once more as she throws her arms around Steve’s neck and attempts to squeeze the life out of him.

Steve looks to Eddie, making sure everything about this is okay. The man looks elated, tears flowing freely. Steve almost forgets they’re standing in the parking lot of his job.

“Now?” Eddie mouths. Steve, blinking back more tears, nods definitively. “Hey Minnie-moo,” Eddie says, running his fingers through his daughter’s hair to get her attention. “What do you think of Mr. Steve being around outside of school? Like, as daddy’s boyfriend?”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you (Pt. 2)

Prologue (Pt. 1) | On AO3 here: i'm outta my head over you | the playlist

Pt 2 to my @steddie-week 2023 entry! this is really the 'first day' entry, but pt. 1 is the prologue :P

today's prompt is: pining

Eddie takes his time after Robin leaves. Finishing the cigarette she made him put out and doing his best to focus on the tune he was expirimenting with on his acoustic before he was interrupted. The curiosity gets the best of him though (of course) and he sets his guitar back down, picking up the papers Robin had handed to him.

He starts to read what he had (correctly) thought was a tracklist.

'Heartbeat? Okay, so it's a sappy love playlist.' He thinks to himself. "The hell's that got to do with me?" he asks aloud to no one.

There's a slightly lighter colored scrawl of "Dustin doctor FRIDAY at 3" written into the top margin of this scanned page, like someone had used a different color pen than the rest of the book, and continuing on--

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Eddie reads the first sentence, and he suddenly feels like he's going into cardiac arrest.

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

Looking back, Steve counts himself insanely lucky that it was Nancy he was dating when he first really noticed Eddie Munson.

Of course, he’d noticed the older boy before, it was hard not to, but the first time he really looked at him, really saw him…he wanted to throw up.

He was actually really pretty. Wait, can a guy be pretty? It doesn’t matter. Eddie is. 

His hair is dark and curly, some curls licking down his face and swirling over his cheekbones, some curling up behind his ears. If it was straight, his hair would definitely look like an overgrown bowlcut. Fuck, it looked soft.

Eddie’s a year above him, a Senior, so it kind of makes sense that he’s a bit broader than Steve is..wait, is he? Or is it just that vest he’s wearing, making him look bigger…

His eyes are dark, brows furrowed, lips yanked back in a snarl–oh yeah, he was in the middle of telling someone off. That’s what called Steve’s attention to him.

“Steve? Are you okay?”

He wrenches his eyes from the side of Eddie’s face to look down at Nancy. He locks eyes with her and was when he noticed how hard his heart was beating.

That, and the fact her eyes were the wrong color.

‘Wrong color?? The hell? They’re blue, they’ve always been blue.’

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine Nance.” Steve looks back up at Eddie. “He’s kinda scary isn’t he. Should I do something?”

“Steve–”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, and approaches Eddie and whoever it is that earned his tirade.

Steve pushes through the gathered crowd, right next to Eddie’s victim. “What’s happening here, guys?” Steve’s snarky ‘King Steve’ smile appears easily on his face, then he notices who he came in next to. “Tommy? What’re you doing man?”

“Oh you know, the usual.” Tommy’s grin makes Steve sick to his stomach. He looks away, down to the empty plastic fountain pop in his hand.

“The usual, huh?” Steve scoffs, turning to Eddie.

Mistake. Mistake! 

Eddie’s dark eyes lock with his and Steve feels weak in the knees ‘ What the hell?? ’

“Welcome to the show, my liege!” Eddie bows low, and Steve sees the short kid that was hiding behind him. Must be a freshman, huge, panicked eyes stare at him under a mass of poofy curly hair (lighter than Eddie’s). An oversized red plaid flannel is resting on his shoulders, and a large dark stain coats his shirt beneath. Ah.

Eddie straightens, and the little freshman is obscured again. That’s when he realizes the denim vest Eddie is wearing is all he’s wearing above the waist. Steve’s stomach twists pleasantly at the sight of Eddie’s pale skin. ‘ What. The. Fuck. Don’t turn red, look away, look away!! ’

Steve locks eyes with Eddie once again, and it’s not much better. Fuck, those eyes…

What the hell is happening to him?? His heart’s beating like crazy. He glances over, and Nancy and her ginger friend with the glasses are watching, twin looks of panic and disgust on their faces.

“Munson here was just introducing me to one of our new little friends!” Tommy’s tone makes Steve’s stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Really Tommy, a freshman? How cliché can you get? Leave the kid alone, man.”

“Really Dude?” Tommy mocks, “What’s it to you? That girl’s making you slip, man.”

It’s not entirely false; it is true that Nancy’s made it easier to get out from behind his King Steve self more often than not, but there was always a part of him that wanted to be better.

Steve just shrugs. “No more messing with the freshmen, Tommy. Show’s over, assholes, get out of here!” he yells over the crowd as he turns his back on his friend’s(?) sputtering face. Facing Eddie again, he asks, “Sorry, Munson, your friend okay?”

Ugh. Even he cringes inwardly at how insincere that sounded. How’d that come out so wrong?

Eddie just gives him a look, and shakes his head, “C’mon Gareth,” he wraps a long arm around the kid behind him while still shielding him from view. “Our benevolent ruler has allowed us to leave unharmed; let’s abscond before he changes his mind.” Eddie shoots Steve another glare over his shoulder and disappears into the dispersing crowd of students.

Nancy and her friend stay behind. Barb. Her name is Barb. 

Barb says something to Nancy, and when she nods in return, Barb leaves for her next class.

Nancy moves to step up to his side again, but he’s whirled around and Tommy’s in his face.

“What the fuck is your deal, Harrington?”

Steve shoves him back, “I already fuckin’ told you. Leave the freshmen alone.”

It’s not a lot, he knows Tommy’s going to over-correct and start berating the sophomore class relentlessly, but that kid looked so scared.. Fuck, he’s a coward. 

“You’re going soft, Harrington.” Tommy shoulder checks him as he walks past him and past Nancy, who gives him a wide berth.

“Sorry, Nance.” he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

She levels him with a look. “What was with you and that senior?”

“Nothing, nothing!” he holds his hands up in surrender.

The look on her face says she doesn’t believe him.

Not that much longer after that, she knows he wasn’t telling the truth. After getting beaten up by Jonathan Byers, Barb going missing from his backyard, almost dying…his whole world being turned upside-down (hah), he deserves to tell someone the truth about his not crush on Eddie Munson…

He asks her “Munson’s pretty right? I mean, for a guy.”

“Do you think he’s pretty, Steve?” she asks in lieu of a response, soft tone and smile letting him know he’s okay to talk to her about it.

His stomach twists, he wants to throw up. He still really likes Nancy, still likes girls, why does he feel all gooey about a guy ? About Eddie ?

“I don’t know, Steve.” She says. Oh shit, he said that out loud. “But it’s okay that you do, you know. I won’t see you any differently.”

The knot in his stomach loosens slightly.

She looks down at her hands where they’re folded in her lap. “It’d be hypocritical of me if I did.”

Steve hugs her then. They stay together, they’re just fine…until they’re not.

They drift apart after that. They hang on for a while, they do care for each other afterall, but everything falls apart at that damn Halloween party.

Steve doesn’t blame her, not fully. Especially when he’s been not so subtly mooning after someone else (Nancy smiles knowingly at him every time she catches him staring at Eddie across the hall or across the cafeteria), and especially not after as much as she’s had to drink.

She’s right to call their relationship bullshit, even if it stings, because it kinda was. Him pining hopelessly after some guy, but still desperately trying to hold onto what he thinks he needs to do while doing so.

Trying to hold onto the future that he’s expected to have. A wife, a house with a picket fence, two kids. All that.

Nancy starts dating Jonathan, and Steve’s happy for them, really, but even he doesn’t know how okay he actually is until he’s jumped in Reefer Rick’s boathouse.

There’s a forearm across his chest, an elbow digging into his right shoulder, a hip pressed to his own, another face only inches away, and he’s head over fucking heels.

Those dark eyes that haunted him in the halls of Hawkins High are suddenly so close he can see just how rich a brown they really are, even around the sheer panic in their forefront. 

The dark curls that Steve wanted to wrap around his fingers three years ago are longer, more full, down to Eddie’s shoulders now, though dirty and matted in some places from his time on the run.

If there wasn’t a broken glass bottle pressed to his neck right now, he’d be fully tempted to just plant one on the other man. Instead, Steve stays perfectly still, echoing anything Dustin says that might get the sharp glass away from his jugular.

Eddie’s eventually convinced to let Steve go, but somehow keeps hold of his heart. Metaphorically wrenching it from Steve’s chest and tucking it away into an inner pocket of his leather jacket.

‘This is the literal worst time for this shit, Harrington, pull yourself together.’ Steve chides himself as he catches his breath. ‘Save him. Get him out of this first, THEN you can worry about your feelings for him.’

Awesome, great plan.

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

Ok.

Yep.

This is a thing that is happening to him today.

The tape in his hand, the messy scrawled notes that were so lovingly delivered to him, were made by Steve "The Hair" Harrington about him, Eddie "The Freak" Munson. 

He must've died back there in the upside down. This is not real. 

How has Steve been pining for him for that long? Especially if that first entry is true, all the way back when now-about-to-go-into-Senior-year Gareth had just started at Hawkins High??

Eddie stops himself from reading the rest of Steve's (Steve's!!) handwriting to dash inside to the phone. The rest of this deserves to be read with the tape playing anyway.

First things first: "Robin! Birdie, Buckley, best woman in the world!" he yells, vibrating where he stands with the phone against his ear.

"Munson. To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asks, infuriatingly nonchalant.

"You know damn well why I'm calling. This is Steve's tape?" He's only slightly embarrassed by the anxious squeak that comes out of him when he says Steve's name.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Robin says, then promptly hangs up on him.

Part 3!

yes, i did in fact use my own handwriting as steve's :o)

[syndrossi]

resonant ch27 dvd commentary

Favorite line:

The red priestess had thought Jon’s resurrection irrefutable proof of her god’s power, yet at times Jon had wondered if he was so different from the wights he faced across the battlefield: something dead, with fire breathed into him rather than ice, intended instead to be a puppet for R’hllor.

It's an interesting parallel, and one that I'm sure Jon has mused upon before. The dead are not allowed to rest; they are tools to be used by unknowable forces. Unlike the wights, of course, Jon is alive and has free will, but that doesn't mean his return to the living wasn't meant to serve a purpose, as the wights do.

Favorite detail:

The gifts! I had a lot of fun picking the first batch out. Rhaegar's gifts are pretty easy/obvious, and we even had Daemon musing last chapter about getting him charcoals and parchment. The book written by Aenar Targaryen will definitely be important/useful as they go through it. With the dragons left in the care of the Dragonkeepers, it's not a book that anyone has likely read in a century. Aegon or Visenya could very well have been the last to do so, other than Viserys briefly scanning it for information to reconstruct the hatchery in his model.

Meanwhile, the generational cartography is something that felt fitting for dragonriders to do. It is far easier to map something from a bird's eye view versus going about slowly on foot, though it requires recalling the details later, as dragonback is not the most stable position to draw from! One eagle-eyed commenter on the chapter guessed at Daemon's reasoning for Jon's gifts: in both chapters 24 and 26, he's shown interest in ship movement on dragonback and the landscape in general. So he gets a map and wooden model ships!

(Obviously Jon is attached to his bronze knife, but Daemon needs more lead time to have a Targaryen equivalent made.)

And the gifts also reflect aspects of Daemon that he shares with both children: a curiosity about the lay of the land and the movement of people and things below (a strategic eye), and his own interest in their family's history and dragons. Daemon's similarities to Jon are often more obvious, because their personalities on the surface are closer, but he shares many things in common with Rhaegar too!

Favorite dynamic:

The cousins, naturally. Aegon and Aemond's childish jealousy (enhanced by their existing dislike for their nephews) of their shiny new cousins spending time with other children, doing that thing that kids do where they demand you admit that they're your best friend obviously and far superior to any other friends.

Then we have Aemond "letting" Jon be Aemon so that he can be Rhaegar's brother instead, living out the dream of having a brother he likes and can relate to / have adventures with. While Aegon wants to buy "cool points" with his secrets.

And the sibling sabotage with Aegon's secrets, of course! With Otto as their grandfather and Viserys as their father, they are privy to some interesting conversations, which is a resource that Jon and Rhaegar can try to leverage in the future.

Meanwhile, no one has made any guesses yet as to the secret Aegon wants to show them...

Quick hitters:

I hate the flow of "Princesguard" but it's KINGSguard and QUEENSguard, so symmetry demands it. It's also very patriarchal (it's not called Princessesguard), but so is the Kingsguard tbh. I imagine "Princesguard" will be considered a neutral term.

I quite enjoyed delving into Jon's musings on the gods, and his conclusion that he'll pray to whoever keeps his family safe. It's a sentiment we've seen from him before, when Rhaegar has been in danger, where he throws out prayers to whatever god might listen.

Jon opens himself a little bit to Jon Redfort and receives a memory in return. A few folks on AO3 have wondered why Rhaegar can remember parts of Raymar's life but not Jon, and it comes down to Jon being very resistant to opening himself up that way. He keeps a very hard line of separation, which can make his emotions more volatile (Jon Redfort's emotions reach a boiling point that spills over).

I considered writing the gift-giving from Daemon's POV after I finished writing it in Jon's. I'm fond of the "least knowledgeable" POV principle, aka writing a scene from the POV of the character who knows the least about what's going on. Daemon lacks context on the candle, and he has no idea what the boys feel about his gifts, so we'd get his reads on both their reception of the gifts and what they're feeling about the candle. But it also felt reasonably fine from Jon's POV and I usually don't bother rewriting a POV unless I'm unhappy with a scene.

Harvest festival + ball name drop! It's about two months out for the start of the monthlong festivities, which gives interested knights of the land time to make the trek for the Princesguard tourney at its close (3 months from now).

The toy ships were a bit of a bust from Jon's perspective, since he's not actually all that interested in nautical matters aside from their implications for conflicts/supplies. But he wouldn't ever want Daemon to think so, so we'll see if Jon forces himself to play with them for his benefit later. 😅 Laenor+the Velaryon boys are more likely to be interested! (Laenor: You know, Daemon, if you ever need someone to teach you about seamanship...)

I really like the godswood as a setting. It's quite peaceful.

This chapter in general was quite peaceful, until Daemon dropped not one but two "famous last words" remarks at the end.

No deleted scenes or even deleted bits this time to share!