#“no it's fine i can leave. this is comics”

[ninguitar]

꣑ৎ　────　𝓟OP THE HOOD , DA 　　　　　lovin' you long takes the pain away 𓈒𓈒

───﹙⚙️﹚𝓢. ｡｡　a trip to the froyo shop ends up leaving daniela with a broken-down car, but hey—at least she got a pretty girl to fix it!

𝓹airing. daniela avanzini x mechanic!f!r 𝓰enre. fluff wc. 1.9k notes. haiaiaiaiia idk anyt abt cars so take everything that is said abt cars w/ a grain of salt 😛 also thinking ab a part2 but idk !! lmk how yall feel or wtv (MASTERLIST)

now playing ⋆ ballad of a badman by tory lanez

MAYBE IT WAS DUMB LUCK.

daniela just wanted to get froyo on her way home; it shouldn't have to be such a big deal, and it sure didn't need to turn into a shit-show. her mustang was starting fine at first—jamming her keys into the ignition, a grin adorning her face as the engine roared lively. she drove safely, but not even an hour later, she stood at the side of the road, smoke coming out the cabin, and her eyebrows knitted together.

though, maybe her luck wasn't so bad, because barely a block away stood an automechanic shop, flashing the words, "tony's wheels & tires." and when she finally arrived at the shop from pushing her car all the way there, it appeared to be a big open garage with a couple cars parked in the slots—full of grease and strewn equipment, the faint smell of smoke and fuel lingered in the air. the bell above the door chimed every few seconds, the sound of engines running accompanying it.

and the sight of a disheveled you underneath a car, fiddling around with the bottom of it, welcomes daniela. a weary, heavy sigh escapes from your throat, as you mutter curses under your breath, before sliding out from beneath the car. shaking your hand in pain, you grunt, and your other hand jots down words on a yellow notepad frantically with a pen. while you were too immersed in writing down the cost of some repair, the latina slowly walks up to you, and you barely raise your head up—though not enough to spot her clearly.

interrupting your dazed, concentrated expression, daniela clears her throat, and your head shoots up, your expression falling into embarrassment. your eyes wander to the girl above you, and for a second, you stare palpably for a fleeting moment. with heat curling at your cheeks, you begin to fumble your words, "shit—didn't see you come in, sorry. hi, welcome to tony's."

the latina meekly flashes a soft, reassuring smile at you, and god do you look at her like she was the one who put the stars in the sky. "it's fine, i just got here," she murmurs, laughing lightly, as her gaze flickers to the navy blue mechanic's button-up that hugged your frame, her eyes fixating on your bright red name patch. and before you could respond back, a beagle appears at daniela's feet, its ears comically perking up, "hey, move along," you groan, gently shooing it away.

"sorry, 's just the owner's dog—she's usually a recluse, but i guess she just likes you or somethin'," you shake your head, a gentle smile painted on your face, before you raise your eyebrows, "so what can i do for you?" you tilt your head, fixing your gaze at eye-level, as you clutch your hand, sliding your notepad and pen into your pockets.

"my car—it broke down, and it wouldn't start. i tried to pop the hood open, but it started smoking, so i pushed it to the slot over there," she explains meekly, her hands clasped together, before she pointed out to her mustang. your eyebrows furrow, confusion washing over your features.

"you- you pushed it here?" you ask, laughing breathlessly, "christ, you know you could've called us, and we would've towed it, right?" you shake your head, a grin curbing your lips, as a playful glint remains in your eyes.

"i- fuck, you guys do that?" a sigh drifts from daniela's lips at your words, warmth spreading around her cheeks, as she wishes the ground could just swallow her up right now. god, she was embarrassing herself in front of you—an insanely, drop-dead gorgeous girl.

and really, she doesn't think it could get worse until you reassure her, your voice dulcet and coaxing, "yeah, but don't worry 'bout it. i think it's cute that you pushed it all the way here." the unbridled sincerity in your words accompanied by the series of giggles escaping your breath makes her knees buck, her self-restraint crumbling bit by bit. "anyway, i'll take a look at your car. 's the red one, right?"

once she nods, you brush past her, the plethora of keys cluttering your carabiner ringing through the lot. and while you were out there, checking out her car, daniela's gaze wanders around the place—random trinkets of spiderman, portraits, and posters crowd the back of the front desk. a bright red clock sat above the posters, ticking each second, and accompanying it was a sign that read "please ring the bell for service," with the words "don't" scribbled above it. and before she knew it, the door jingles a second time, the bells chiming, as you enter back inside.

your navy blue button-up was completely discarded, now swung over your shoulder, and instead, you had a grease-stained mickey mouse graphic shirt on. a thin line presses onto your lips, and reaching for your notepad in your back pocket, you pop the pen cap off. "your car isn't in such bad shape," you start, trying to alleviate her worries, before writing down on the notepad hurriedly, "your fuel pump's a lil' faulty, and you have a coolant leak." your eyes flicker to the latina, watching her profusely nod, trying to process your words. and continuing, you explain the time it'd take to finish the repair and the cost—the only words, 'not gonna be finished until at least next week,' registering in her head.

daniela huffs in defeat, crossing her arms against her chest, "next week? fuck, that's gonna be awhile," she mutters under her breath, worry lines creasing her forehead. you lean against the counter, shrugging, "i know, i really can't do that much—there's still a lot of cars that need to be fixed before yours," you murmur, a frown jutting at your lips, as you look back at her.

and with your eyes tracing her features, you blink, noticing the latina's tense posture, her fists clenched; you could tell she was visibly nervous. you teeter, as you cock your head, a resigned expression on your face, sighing, "i- i mean, if you wanna stick around for a little, i could, maybe pull some strings. just this once though." at your words, daniela's eyes light up, a fox-bright gleam in her eyes, and the corner of her lips quirking up, as she crosses her arms loosely against her chest, "really? you would do that for me?"

you hum lowly in your throat, nodding your head slowly, and scribbling over words on your notepad, trying to keep your eyes glued to your paper. you nearly go into anaphylactic shock at her smile, as your eyes flicker to her features, "yeah—'course, i'll see what i can do." a toothy smile curbs your lips, and you're so sure you look like an idiot trying to win her over—with a simple repair job at that—but you're just desperate.

you shrug, grabbing your toolbox that had random stickers stuck onto it, from under the counter, as you stroll back out into the lot, the curly-headed girl following you shortly. and noticing your stickers, daniela chuckles, "you must really like spider and mickey mouse, huh?" a teasing smile plays on her lips, as she watches you freeze in your movements, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly.

"you could tell?" you murmur, as you lean over the car hood, pulling the handle up, and popping the hood. you softly hum under your breath, before you look back, the girl standing gingerly while watching you, "you- you can pull up a chair from there if you'd like," you mumble, your hand pointing to the stack of chairs by the window. your eyes darts around the different fuses, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a.

"what's your name anyway? never got it," you ask, as you check the clogged fuel filter again, your hands moving around meticulously. "daniela," she answers flatly, her eyes shamelessly trailing down your body. your face scowls at the blockages, too lost in looking at every fuse of the car to even notice the latina mindlessly watching you intently.

"you're a lifesaver, you know that?" she cracks up, chuckling, as she watches you concentrate with your eyes all narrowed. you roll your eyes, shaking your head, "been called stuff here and there but never a lifesaver." you tilt your head, a shit-eating grin curling on your lips. she scoffs, shaking her head in response, "i'm sure you're just exaggerating to make me feel special." her gaze flickers to your lips and then back to your eyes.

and for the rest of the repair, silence falls, leaving daniela with her thoughts. while you scrutinize her car, replacing a few things here and there, daniela couldn't help but notice the way your muscles flexed while your chest rose and fell, exasperated grunts escaping your lips every few seconds. synonymously, she couldn't help but chastise herself for gushing over you—a girl she barely knew but a sweet one at that. your eyebrows furrow, the tightness blooming in your chest, as you toss the girl a look over your shoulder, checking up on her, before brushing away a feeble string of sweat on your forehead.

after a good hour, you screw the hood closed, as you turn your head over to look at daniela—the girl practically knocked out on the small chair beside you. a chuckle escapes your breath, before you tap her shoulder, waking her up. "it's all good now. sorry for uh, keeping you out for awhile," you profusely apologize, dropping her keys onto her lap, as you wipe your hands on your rag, leaving your hands awkwardly clinging to your belt loops. a look of pity washes over your features. your heart knocks and knocks out of your chest, as you try to discern her expression, hoping she wasn't too bored.

daniela shakes her head, and with her voice smooth and calm, she drawls out, "it's fine, at least it's done earlier than in a week." it felt as though you were gonna drop dead at her reassuring tone, and in response, you hum, trying to dismiss the heat spreading at the tip of your ears. you lean against the car before fumbling over your words, "you- you can try out the car, see if it works y'know."

the latina nods slowly, "yeah, i'll definitely try that," as she enters the car, twisting her keys with a quick flick into the ignition, and finally does the engine actually rumble to life. you couldn't help but let a smile dance along your features, your arms crossed against your chest, as she rolls down the window.

"how much do i owe you?" she asks in a hushed tone, and you think for a fleeting moment before murmuring in between your teeth, "$30's fine," hoping nobody else could hear—especially when you lowered the bill by more than half of its original price. and in response, daniela furrows her eyebrows, clearly confused at how the price was now suddenly lower, but she nonetheless shook it off, handing you the money.

and before daniela takes off, she winks at you, a grin plastering her face, and you swear your heart squeezes ever-so-tightly that you could combust, melt, and ascend to the heavens. with your cheeks flushed, you take a few steps back, watching the curly-headed drive away from the lot. before you could wave, your coworker—kazuha—teases, "you know you have a fuck ton of cars to fix, and you need to pay the rest of her bill," as she nudges your shoulder.

you huff, sauntering over to the cash register inside, "shut up, it was worth it," you murmur, as you open the register, pulling out your wallet. you narrow your eyes, as you notice words written sloppily with a black marker on one of the bills daniela handed you.

call me, pretty (###)-####-#### - daniela

"can't believe a girl as gorgeous as her wants… whatever you are," kazuha snickers, raising her eyebrow, as the japanese girl flicks your forehead, making you push her playfully in return. you huff, a scowl on your face, before you slip the written bill into your pocket, shoving bills from your own wallet to pay off the rest of daniela's tab. and maybe you did have to work extra shifts to repair the rest of the cars, but you got daniela's number, and that was all that mattered to you right now.

so when you look me in my eyes

will you take some time?

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[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby notices when you’re depressed. Let’s talk about how she handles that as your partner.

These are modern Abby headcanons. The list was much longer, but I cut it down considerably to keep it from getting too long-winded. I do have a piece written for WLF Abby. If it's something you want to see, let me know.

Thanks for reading. I'm glad you're here.

• Maybe it’s a slow descent this time… little by little, losing interest in your favourite pastimes and finding it hard to discover meaning in daily life. In the midst of trying to survive, there is suddenly no room left for indulging in your hobbies.

Abby, with every random blanket and sheet she owns, constructs a blanket fort in the living room, offering a pressure-free zone where you can do nothing but feel completely safe and loved.

Super cozy, not too busy, and mega peaceful against the demands of a world that is asking far too much of you in this moment.

Does she deep-dive Youtube tutorials on how to build epic forts that probably belong in a magazine? I mean, yeah. Give her a break, alright? Complete dedication is the way this girl operates, and I’ll die on that hill. Also, Abby is a tall, sturdy girlie, and she needs to fit inside it with you. If you’re going to live in this fort together for the foreseeable future, she needs it to be good for you.

Now, if you want an enormous blanket hanging precariously off the side of the couch with a half-dead flashlight and crinkled comics shoved underneath some pillows, date Ellie. Still cute, still the thought that counts, but she’s no Abigail it’s my mission to save you Anderson.

• Abby stocks up on all your go-to snacks because she gets that it's hard to think about the basics when you're too bone-tired to move… nevermind prioritizing measly things like providing yourself sustenance. She’s got you covered.

• She refuses to let you marinate in the feeling of being a burden. She shuts that shit down fast.

“You’re my person, okay? I’m not going anywhere. End of story.”

• Abby grew up around doctors, so she'll for sure be the one to look up therapists and leave the info pinned to the fridge beneath a small magnet that is, of course, a laminated photo of the two of you on your first date. She describes it as the most important day of her life and brings it up regularly.

“You know, I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, but every time I look at it, it hits me all over again—how much that day meant to me.” Her voice dips low as she confesses something so immensely sacred to her. “The day I realized you weren’t just someone I wanted in my life. I’d been waiting for you without even knowing it. I thought I had it all figured out before you. Fuck, was I ever wrong.”

(Just know there's no rush to decide anything big when it comes to choosing a method of healing, but it's there when you're ready.)

• On your hardest days, she stays close, but she doesn’t push. She’ll busy herself with repairs around the home or folding the mountain of laundry shoved up against the wall in your bedroom.

• Abby loves to buy those cute nightlights with little animals on them or the ones that change colours, and she scatters them around the house. When you’re lost in the darkness, right?

• She serves you warm drinks in your favourite mug and nothing else. She’ll handwash it a million times a day if she must.

• Abby's phone chirps with little alarms throughout the day, reminding her to do something special for you. This is all the time, not just when you’re depressed, to be certain.

• Weighted blankets everywhere. Vehicles included.

• I don’t care what anyone says, Abby is soft as a motherfucker, okay? Is she rough around the edges? Maybe. Yes. 100%. Fine, she’s a hot mess, but will she read you poetry aloud, until her voice is hoarse, and her lips go dry? Without a doubt. There are sticks and jars of lip ointment all over the place wherever Abby resides.

Fun fact: Abby hates when her lips feel dry, even slightly. She is constantly reaching for ChapStick and all its cousins. Whenever someone tells her she should stop using her precious lip stuff because it will improve the sensory nightmare in the long run, she’ll immediately do that pouty, nose crinkle thing at them and ignore the advice without a breath.

• Abby lets you wear all her sweaters. That’s a given. But when you’re depressed, she tends to reach for yours as well. It helps her feel close to you when she’s dealing with her own inner turmoil.

• She doesn’t fuck around when she senses you’re starting to spiral. Her routines are extremely important to her, but she will put them on pause to be there for you.

Now, does she gently, lovingly, force your ass to go on walks with her to get some fresh air somewhere you feel comfortable? Yeah, she does. This might be annoying at times when you’re really struggling, and she knows it. She’ll still encourage movement in a way that is manageable for you if leaving the house is too daunting.

If that means you’re standing on her feet, arms wrapped around her neck while she sways side to side with you, so be it.

• She'll binge-watch your favorite shows and movies with you until she drains all the power in the entire city.

• Abby won't make you feel awkward if you cry. She'll just start crying, too, even if she tries so hard not to. She gets better at keeping it to a little glossy eyed moment, but sometimes your pain is her pain, and the dam just… breaks.

• Abby is an actions over words type of human. She’s a doer. Also, timing doesn’t matter much to her. She is desperate to give you a future to believe in because she is so certain that what the two of you share is everlasting.

Abby proposes to you when your hair is a mess, and you’ve been in the same pajamas for days. Fuzzy teeth? Fear not. She isn’t afraid of the hard times. Her love is an anchor. A constant.

She wants to remind you that you’ll never have to face your dark times alone.

Shadows dance on the tapestry walls of the blanket fort, illuminated by the warm, flickering lights hanging inside. Across from you, Abby lounges with her legs stretched out and her back propped against a pile of soft pillows. She’s quiet for a moment, fiddling with something in her hands.

“You know,” she begins, her voice gentle and husky, like gravel smoothed by unrelenting water. “When I was little, I used to make forts like this with my dad. We’d sit in the middle of all the chaos and just… talk about random shit. Nothing outside could touch us.”

As she glances at you, there is a small, almost shy smile playing on her lips.

“That’s what this feels like—being with you. Even when everything else seems like it’s falling apart, you’re my safe place.”

Abby leans forward, her knees brushing yours, and you realize she’s holding a small velvet box. Her confidence wavers, revealing a hint of vulnerability you rarely see.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while. About us—what we mean to each other.” Her voice cracks a little, causing her to pause and clear her throat before she continues.

“I know you’ve been feeling lost. And I know I can’t fix it, even when it kills me—even when all I want to do is make the hurting go away. But I can promise you this...”

She opens the box, the ring glimmering in the soft light, her affectionate, earnest gaze meeting yours.

"I promise you'll always have someone by your side to help you through it. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll be right here with you. For the tough days, the good ones, everything the world throws at us. Because you’re it for me. You always have been."

With each word, her voice grows softer, filled with an unmistakable tremor of emotion.

“Let me be your person forever. Let me love you, fight for you. Let me build you giant blanket forts until we’re way too fucking old to do it by ourselves—and then let me find new ways to take care of you. Because it’s all I want in this lifetime. You’re all I see. Will you marry me?”

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 12/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Twelve: Dent

Two weeks before the end of summer vacation, Martha went to the airport to pick Bruce up. Martha almost didn’t recognize him because he’d grown so much. Bruce was so excited to see her that he dropped his suitcase and ran to her at full speed. “Mom!” Bruce exclaimed. He lifted her off the ground and spun her around. He started crying as he held her. “I missed you so much.” 

“Oh, lovey, I missed you too,” Martha replied as he set her down. She was a little taken aback at how emotional Bruce was. He didn’t expect to react that way when he saw her, but being apart from his mother always made him emotional. “Bruce, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” 

Bruce wiped his face as he pulled himself together. “Can we get something to eat? I didn’t eat on the plane,” Bruce whispered. Martha nodded and held his face in her hands before heading to the car. Bruce fell asleep right after he buckled in, and Martha moved his hair out of his face. 

She didn’t wake him until they got to the drive-thru. “Lovey… Lovey, what flavor of milkshake do you want with your burger?” Martha whispered. 

“Vanilla,” Bruce mumbled. Martha nudged him. 

“Brucie, wake up… You’ve got to eat something,” Martha whispered. Bruce nodded and pushed his hair back as he opened his eyes. 

“I didn’t have time to really get a haircut while I was there,” Bruce explained, “So, you can tell me what you really think about it.”

“Huh? Oh, Brucie, you look fine,” Martha replied with a higher pitch. 

“I’m gonna cut it, Mom,” Bruce replied. 

“How short?” Martha asked.

“As short as you want it,” Bruce replied.

“I never said I didn’t like it at this length… What are you going to do to your hair?” Martha questioned. 

“Maybe something short and spiky,” Bruce answered. Martha ordered and pulled up to the window. “You know… How some of the guys are wearing it.”

Martha smiled at him. “Please don’t do that. I like the long hair on you. It’s shoulder length, and it’s pretty. It makes you look like a poet or a rockstar. No harm in being a little pretty. It is the nineties after all,” Martha replied as she pinched his cheek. “Harvey’s got the Leo. So, I think it’ll be nice seeing the two of you stand next to each other in your sophomore-year uniforms… I wanted to get a haircut like that cute brunette in the movie that came out last year. You know, that pretty girl that you and Harvey like?” 

Bruce shrank down in his seat. “Mommm,” Bruce whined as he hid his face. Martha chuckled. 

**

Bruce and Harvey holed up in Bruce’s room after dinner to catch up. “I went home a few weeks ago to see my dad. He said he almost didn’t recognize me. He said he—.”

“Harvey, please don’t go. Don’t leave. You can’t trust him,” Bruce whispered. Harvey stood by Bruce’s bed instead of sitting down. Bruce had seen it before. Harvey loved his father, and he’d gone home before. Things were always good. Mr. Dent would shower Harvey with affection, promise him that things would be different, and then Harvey would return in tears, covered in bruises, and tell Bruce he’d never return. Bruce’s parents knew that Harvey was abused, but they didn’t know the nature of the abuse. Only Bruce knew about the beatings, otherwise, Harvey would never have gotten to go home. 

“He said he was proud of me, Bruce… And he—. He said he was sober. He hadn’t had a drink in—.”

“Harv, what do you want me to say?” Bruce whispered with tears in his eyes. 

Harvey rubbed his forearm. “It’s not normal for us to be so close. Regular best friends don’t sleep in bed together like that. Not guys—.”

“Who said that? Because I bet you they don’t know you like I do. I bet they weren’t there when you were waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I bet they weren’t sneaking down the dumbwaiter at two o’clock in the morning helping you wash your sheets because you were too scared to make noise on the way to the bathroom. Was it weird when I used to stay up crying with you because you were hurting all night?” Bruce whispered. 

Harvey turned away from Bruce. “He’s my dad. Not every father is as perfect as Mr. Wayne or Alfred. Bruce, I want you to try to be supportive. Why would you make me stay?” Harvey asked. 

Bruce’s answer caught in his throat. It was like the question made him realize something about himself, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “When are you going home?” Bruce asked instead of saying what he wanted to say. 

“Tomorrow,” Harvey whispered. 

“Okay… You can come back whenever you want, you know? I won’t say anything. I won’t ask questions… And I’m gonna miss you waking me up at the last second every morning,” Bruce replied, “I guess you’ll be sleeping in your room tonight…”

“I could be weird for one more night, I guess,” Harvey mumbled as he kicked at the air. Bruce smiled faintly as he wiped a few tears away. 

**

On the first day of school, Bruce met Harvey in their usual spot, and a girl pulled him to the side. She ran her hand down his arm. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Annalise Talbot,” she smiled. 

“We have met. Bruce Wayne,” Bruce answered as he removed her hand from his arm. “You probably remember me as the vampire freak from eighth grade… If you’ll excuse me…” Bruce looked around for Harvey, and his jaw tightened. 

He waited a few minutes before heading to one of the payphones in the hallway. He dialed Harvey’s home phone number and took a shaky breath. Harvey answered on the first ring. “Bruce, I—.” 

“How bad?” Bruce asked. 

“Bruce, he’s sleeping right now… I don’t—. I just—.”

“Harvey, I’m gonna call a cab and come get you. Wait for me outside,” Bruce whispered. 

“Bruce, wait. I—.”

“No buts, Harv. I’ll be there fast,” Bruce replied as he hung up. He called a cab and told them where to meet him. Bruce got picked up in front of the school and went straight to the Dent house. Harvey sat outside on the stoop in his school uniform, but his face was all busted up, and he was bleeding from his browline down the side of his face. Bruce quietly passed him and opened the door. 

“Bruce, don’t—.” 

“Mr. Dent! Mr. Dent!” Bruce shouted before kicking his chair. 

Harvey’s father sat up and frowned at Bruce before calling him a name. “You’re that boy that’s been corrupting my kid—.” Bruce slapped the bottle out of his hand and it shattered on the floor. “I see I’m gonna have to teach you some manners.” Bruce smiled with his tongue in his cheek. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Bruce chuckled as he locked Harvey out. 

“Bruce, please!” Harvey shouted as he knocked on the door.

“I’m just getting acquainted with your father,” Bruce reassured him. Bruce watched as Mr. Dent staggered out of the chair. And it was over before it even started.

[sictkrs]

Nervous (pt. 1?)

⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡⋆𐙚 ₊

MNDNI!! 18+

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: no smut but constant references to eventual smut, neck kissing, praise, honestly both reader and Steve are both switches with how I wrote this, dry humping, (slight) dirty talk, partial nudity, INSANELY long for no reason like it's just build up, not proof read

Boyfriend!Steve taking readers virginity! She is very nervous but also not because she's trying to be more confident!

I haven't written in like forever so here you go tumblr if you want the part two let me know because it is currently one in the morning and I will finish it tmr!!

Smut under the cut!

“Are you worried?” he murmurs, hazel eyes flicking up to look at you. 

For a moment you want to say no, you'd like to lie and tell Steve that you're just as confident as he is, but it seems that the moment you open your mouth the words fall short. 

“it's okay, I—I mean we don't have to, y'know, if you don't want to.” His thumb runs over the top button of your blouse, the smooth round stud so close to unlatching. 

“I want to,” your words are barely a whisper. His hands drop from your collar and settle on your side.

He doesn't seem to believe you. Here you both were lying in your bed, parents gone away for the night. It's perfect, he'd been sweet and caring, he brought flowers and chocolate. Still, you're tense, and he can tell. He leans back into the bed beside you, head resting on the stomach of a comically sized bear he had won you. You sigh, leaning towards him, he quirks a brow.

“I want to,” you repeat, this time your tone more confident. Or at least as confident as you can be with him around. “I'd like to, Steve, I do, I just… I'm nervous.” 

His lips quirk up a little, eyes trailing down your face as you look at him. If Steve was honest he really, really wanted you. God knows how many times he'd have to come up with some stupid excuse to go and jack off in the bathroom just because he kissed you. His teeth graze his bottom lip before he speaks again, that familiar playful look on his face.

“Show me.”

Your brows pull together, lips parting at his words. 

“How do I—How should I—” you start. His hand travels from your side, sliding down the slope of it to instead find home on your hip, thumb brushing over the fabric of your jeans.

“Just do whatever you want,” He tells you, eyes focused and staring into yours with so much intensity that it jarrs you.

“what if I do something you don't like?” You inch closer, leg brushing his. 

“I'll tell you.” His eyes flick to your lips. “But trust me, honey. I'd like everything as long as it's you.”

His words are so sickly sweet that you're sure you must have gotten a cavity. Steve was always good with words, smooth and sultry, everything you didn't know how exactly to be. 

Your tongue slides over your bottom lip, wetting it slightly before swallowing. When you move closer to him, you can hear his breath the way it slips out of him so quickly when your hands settle on his chest for support, the red wool of his sweater warm under your palms.

“You're doing just fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes following your every move as you progress closer.

It's not like you haven't touched him before, that you haven't made out in bathrooms or behind the bleachers at graduation, but this was different. This seemed to have more meaning because of what would come after. His left hand moves to your face, thumb swiping over the apple of your cheek. 

“Just focus on right now.”

It's as if he could read your mind, and you wondered if maybe you could read his too. You lean up, lips placing a soft peck on the corner of his lips, bubble gum lip gloss bound to leave a light shiny stain.

He starts to smile again, Steve liked kissing you. You knew that, it seemed to be one of his favourite things, along with the way you stammered or always seemed to get so jittery when you got too close, like you couldn't even handle the slightest touch. You'd like to prove that last one wrong, show him that you could handle him. 

His lips start to lean up, expecting to kiss you back like he always would, but you shift, left hand coming up and moving his face to the side, giving access to his neck. He does it again, the breath sound, this time it seemed rushed, surprised as it falls from his lips. His hand flexes on your hip, as if he's trying not to squeeze you too tight at the feeling of you mouthing and nipping at his skin. 

“There you go… that's it,” he breathes out, head tipping back. He seemed to be just as sensitive to your touch as you were to his.

“Unbutton my shirt,” you speak against his skin, breath warm and heated against the flesh of his neck. He swallows, adam’s apple bobbing.

His hands slide from their place and find the buttons again. He does it quick too, each button popping out so fast that you realise the last time he had almost taken your shirt off he must have been holding back.

You move closer, legs sliding between his as you plant yourself on one of them. You knew if you sat you'd feel him, you could imagine it. The pressure and the rubbing and everything that goes with that. 

You let go of his face once you feel his hand slide into your shirt, palm warm against your shoulder as you pull your lips (reluctantly) off his neck. 

He looks at you, eyes tracing the crevice of your collar bone all the way down to your chest, he could imagine running his tongue along the gaps, sliding and wetting it all down till he reached your core. Steve legs tense as you sit back, shifting on his lap so his thigh is resting under your sex and your own thigh nudging against the crotch of his jeans. 

“Fuck,” he utters, lips parted as he takes in the sight, the feeling. Your own hands slide off the button up as it pools around you, your pretty little bra on display for him. 

“Is this fine?” You ask, suddenly the previous display of confidence disintegrating as you take off a garment. He laughs, hazel eyes looking into yours.

“You kiddin’?” His hands smooth over your sides again, taking in the feeling of bear skin. “might bust in my jeans with the way you're lookin’”

“Steve!” Your cheeks flare.

“Sorry, honey, just—wow.”

You can't help the way your lips quirk into a smile that matches his, leaning forward. A moan falls from his lips but the sweet sound is quickly consumed when your lips fall on his. He kisses you enthusiastically, pads of his fingers seemingly less afraid to press into your skin. Or maybe he just wants to leave marks, as if they’ll remind both you and him of this night. 

“Take it off,” you breathe, words slipping from your mouth into his as you speak in between kisses. 

“I trust you.” You kiss him again. The feeling of his hands trailing over your skin to your back isn't something that's lost on you, In fact you'd rather it occur more after this. 

“You sure?” He pulls away.

His hands find the clasp, unlatching it and helping to pull the garment off of you. Your hands find his face, settling on the sides of his jaw, thumbs resting on his cheek bone as you kiss him. Steve can't help but peek, one eye opening to just see the site of your bear breasts.

“Oh my god.” 

The words are swallowed by your mouth on his. Hands slide hesitantly, but when you lean in, all notion of hesitance stops. His thumb runs over your nipple, feeling the soft supple skin harden at his touch, he moans into your mouth and the sound spurs you on. Your hips move without thinking, sliding over his thigh, your layers of fabric stopping some sensation but not all. You gasp, he pulls away.

“Was that good?” He asks, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you, hands still grabbing and touching your bear chest. 

“Ah—oh,” his head tips back and this time you watch him. You get to view the gorgeous sight of Steve Harrington tip his head back, and silently swear under his breath. His eyes shut, mouth agape as he reacts to even the barest of touches. His lips are shiny from your lip gloss, pink and swollen slightly when his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

You nod, head falling forward slightly as you repeat the action, denim jeans and cotton panties soaking up any slick your needy hole might be leaking. Your hands shift down and plant on his chest, balling up the wool of his sweater. You needed to hold onto him. You do it again and Steve watches, he wants so desperately to see the way your brows pinch together and your mouth part to inhale sharply. Your thigh kicks up, nudging him, he jolts. 

“I—I want, I want your shirt off.” 

He takes a moment, still recovering from the little sensation that still seemed to set his body aflame, then his hands drop from your chest, curling around the ends of his sweater and when you let go of it, pulling it off his body, hair falling back a little more messy at the action. 

Your hands smooth over his chest, traces of regrowing hair flatten under your palms. You would make a note of asking him not to shave it anymore. Your view shifts to his face, Bambi eyes and parted lips meet you, you lean in. 

It's like instinct, the way your lips glide against his when you kiss. Tongues dart in and you can hear the sound of your own saliva mixing with his, you would have found it rather gross if you didn't like him so much.

You pull away, a line of spit connects the both of you. 

“Jeans.. I..,” you trail off.

“Yeah?” He doesn't finish the sentence for you, instead just urging you to instead. He wants to hear you say it, he wants you to tell him what to do again.

“I want them off,” you finally admit, swallowing after. 

Steve is hesitant at first, not because he doesn't want to, no, he wants to, the growing situation in his jeans definitely wants to. He's just not sure if you're ready yet, he swipes his thumb over your hip bone. 

“.. like?” 

“Can I… can I try somethin’ honey?” he asks, voice soft like the hum of a radio.

“I just want to make sure you're ready.”

“I told you I'm ready, Steve. I—I showed you, didn't I?” you say, brows pulling together in confusion. He cracks a smile.

“Not that kind of ready, I mean…” his tongue wets his bottom lip. “Wanna stretch you out a little before we really go all in, wanna make sure it doesn't hurt too much.”

:3 reblogs, notes, and comments are always appreciated!

I do not consent to my work being copy and pasted on any other platforms and I do not consent to it being used for ai!

[deoidesign]

Time and Time Again comes back tonight!

Thank you all for being so patient with me, I know it was a long hiatus.

My health was struggling, my arm was (is) hurting, and I decided it wasn't worth it. I'd rather be slow!

So thank you for giving me that grace, and I hope you'll be there with me for the rest of the series.

[velvetwyrme]

🗞️💥💥!!!

A little comic based on my initial response to @wave-nine's post ;3c

[fandomtrashcan]

Hunter's in game detailed suit and Midnight Suns Lore Dump.

Hunter is Marvel's Midnight Suns protagonist and Road to Recovery co-protagonist. If you haven't played the game you might be a little bit confused about her background and what's going on behind the scenes so beware: big text ahead.

According to the game's lore, centuries ago, Hunter was born the only child of an ordinary man and a powerful immortal. When Hunter’s father fell victim to a plague, Hunter’s mother, the sorceress Lilith, was consumed by grief and ended up striking a deal with Cthon itself, selling her soul in the process and permanently corrupting Hunter when they were still a baby.

Hunter was raised in secret by Lilith's sister, Sara, also known as Caretaker. She was raised and trained as a living weapon since they were a child, destined to face their mother. This goes to the extent that they don't have a real name besides their title as Hunter.

When Hunter came of age, they fought against Lilith with the Old Midnight Suns, their former team. In the end, Hunter defeated Lilith but perished in the process.

Both were buried for centuries, until Lilith was awoken by Doctor Faustus working for Hydra, her devastating powers augmented and amplified by modern technology and magic. Hunter was resurrected as well, to lead a new team of Midnight Suns.

The new Midnight Suns are composed by Robbie Reyes, Illyana Rasputin, Nico Minoru and Blade, who had already been training for a while when the Avengers arrived to the Abbey so they could join forces against the upcoming Apocalypsis. Since then, the young Midnight Suns have found themselves sidelined and are not very enthusiastic about it.

Most of the action of Road to Recovery takes place in The Abbey, Hunter's ancestral home, and the present-day makeshift base of the Midnight Suns, located within a pocket dimension on the cursed grounds of Old Salem in Salem, Massachusetts. The Midnight Suns use Illyana's portals as a means to get out of the Abbey and reaching their missions locations. The Abbey counts with a Training Yard and The Grotto, a small lake that serves as pool for the Abbey's residents to relax. It's also surrounded by extensive patches of haunted land and forest.

In the game, Hunter is a customizable character. This version of the Hunter is female and identifies as such. Since the game dates don't make a lot of sense (Hunter is supposed to be 18 but mentions having been slaying demons for decades), this Hunter was born in 1690 and died in 1713 at 23 years of age, but has been going out in missions and hunting monsters since she was a teen.

[sforzesco]

‘Is there a point to any of this or do you just want to see how much more I can take?’ snaps Crassus. ‘Oh, I knew there was still some bite left in you,’ says Cethegus, thrilled. Cethegus teaches Crassus the art of politics and the ways of business. Sulla is not a fan.

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

Crassus, Catilina, and the Vestal Virgins, Ronald Syme

Sulla: the Last Republican, Arthur Keaveney

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

now that I've had some time to think about Book Three's cover/description, here are some bullet-point thoughts

The art style has vastly improved from Book One. It feels like Tillie's finally comfortable with style, and the characters here don't have same face syndrome here. Also the color palette here is my favorite of the three covers. From everything that I've read from Tillie, the way she works with color is a strong point of her work... which again, makes me wish the entire comic was in color but nooooo...

It looks like Ricca has her own cane now, which makes sense given a bit point of her character through the series is her worsening vision like... even with her glasses, she's practically blind.

Clementine has a new hat. Y'know... because her iconic hat got left with AJ... y'all still remember AJ, right? The comics don't.

Dr. Barnwell the cat made it onto the cover.... you know I'm in too deep with these damn comics when I see some random person be like "Clementine's getting a new cat" and I say, out loud, "That's Dr. Barnwell, you dingus, he's been around since the end of Book One." AS IF ANYONE ELSE CARES!

I know too much about this series, y'all

In my defense, I'm a little snappy about stuff like that after Book Two came out and people were just making shit up about what happens, going as far as to fake screenshots, and tell people it's "just like fifty shades of grey" when uh NO? it's not? People were deliberately trying to deceive others over certain elements and it still makes me mad whenever I think about it.... ANYWAY

We also see Fen and Olivia featured here, too. Fen's one of the more interesting side characters we've gotten, and I'm glad she survived Book Two, and Olivia.... I notice the way she's drawn with the front of her body hidden. I know that's probably to not show spoilers for Book Two since that reveal's a big deal, but still.

"Clementine finally has it all–a safe place to live, a girlfriend, and even a cat…but nothing lasts forever. And when Clementine suffers a loss unlike anything she’s ever faced, a new mentor called The Gardener offers her a new family, and a new way of living… but at what cost?" This is the description we were given.

First of all, Clementine had it all at Ericson, and it didn't make her happy. In fact, it made her so miserable that she left... I kinda hope this book does something with that by giving her everything she wants [as in, the safe home, a romantic partner, friends, a cat, etc] and she's STILL unhappy...? And it ends with her leaving again? But something tells me it won't.

Clementine's going to suffer a loss "unlike anything she's ever faced"? Ehhhh, press X to doubt. I played the games, I lived through all of her losses. I don't think anything will ever top seeing her parents as walkers and then losing Lee right after.

I mentioned before that the obvious direction here would be for Olivia to lose her baby, or for Olivia to die after giving birth, but uh... Clementine's been through both of those things with Christa and Rebecca... but we have to keep in mind that we're so far removed from the games at this point that it's never going to bring those up, y'know?

Real talk though? I'm very intrigued by the idea of a new mentor character called The Gardener who is apparently offering her a new family and a new way of life... but at a cost. What cost? What new way of life? What new family? Are we joining a cult now?

Listen, we missed out on the opportunity for a cannibalism plot in Book One, and Miss Morro left a lot to be desired in Book Two, so like... go extra dark this time. C'mon, Tillie, do it.

Also, Amos is definitely coming back as a twist villain, I feel it in my bones. We didn't see a body at the end of Book One okay!

I'm mostly joking but also NOT JOKING AT ALL!

My offer still stands, if Amos comes back, the book is an automatic 5/5 stars, no questions asked.

Anyway, I'll keep y'all updated on this, and when it releases next year, I'll write my in-depth review... "I read it so you don't have to" and all that.

Just as a final reminder, and allow me to make it extra big so that everyone can see it:

Leave Tillie Walden alone. I don't care if you hate the comics or think they're an insult to the game or whatever else. You want to express that, then do it on your blog. Don't send it to Tillie. We have enough pricks harassing her as is, and you're the bigger asshole here if you think it's okay to send her shit like that, so don't.

Seriously, it's the last book and then Tillie's done with the series, and I doubt they're gonna sign her on to make more. The games still exist, you can still go play them, these comics aren't taking that away from you... and if you feel like they are, then don't engage with them, period. It's not hard.

I cover the comics in-depth for people who don't want to read them but are curious about what happens. They don't bother me in that "they ruined the games" way that they used to, so I can handle it. If you can't, then do yourself a favor and just don't. Just don't!

[davepepsisprite]

did you know👆

[toastermelody]

Qualia sisters designs GO (ft shitty mockups of their donut designs)

[sysig]

New toys ✨ (Patreon)

[wereh0gz]

Not feeling great abt some of my creative endeavors rn

[moe-broey]

VIVID fucking idea I had last night....

Background info, I think Moe has some really distinct tendencies that Alfonse ends up being able to immediately identify it by (and finds a lot of comfort in doing so). One of which, is it doing a quiet, hesitant, but steady knock. Persistent, but with long pauses in between.

ENTER..... the Vision........ just. This entire sequence. "You'll never hear from me again". Into, the quiet knock only a few hours later. Into bursting in with the MOST enthusiastic, "HOLY FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Moe really is Some Type of Guy LMFAOO

Fave panels.......

[gemharvest]

The job was super easy tonight so I'm actually home and not tired I CAN ACTUALLY BE CREATIVE HOLY SHIT ????? Time to decide if I wanna spend my remaining energy on fic writing or if I start this comic final draft....