#.゜–– ic . * answered .

[redemn]

Arthur my man do you support homo rights

this  is  the  funniest  and  most  obnoxious  question  that  arthur  has  ever  received  ,      hands  down  .      not  the  question  as  a  whole  ,      per  se  ,      but  mostly  that  he  ,      uh  ,      has  never  been  asked  anything  in  quite  the  way  this  is  being  asked  for  him  right  now  .      you  ever  been  barreling  down  a  rural  country  road  at  11  o'clock  at  night  and  seen  a  deer  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  road  ,      staring  with  its  reflective  eyes  right  back  at  you  with  all  the  horror  of  the  past  seventeen  generations  of  deer  ?  well  ,      arthur  is  that  deer  right  now  ,      standing  in  front  of  your  anonymous  car  ,      staring  with  his  deep-set  reflective  gaze  that  should  actually  really  be  called  gays  in  this  context  .      and  ,      like  any  idiot  deer  ,      he  doesn't  even  try  getting  out  of  the  way  until  it's  too  late  .      except  he  knows  it's  too  late  ,      and  instead  of  running  to  the  side  ,      he's  running  head-on  ,      whitetail  antlers  pointed  to  garrote  the  driver  .

❝        yeah  ,      'course  i  support  homo  rights  .      ain't  no  one's  business  but  you  and  your  person  who  you  love  .      i  met  a  few  like  that  .      there  was  a  mail  clerk  one  time  ,      or  might  be  he  was  a  train  clerk  ,      or  might  be  he  was  both  ,      but  he  weren't  no  good  at  hidin'  what  he  was  ,      but  he  weren't  mean  and  he  didn't  treat  me  like  nothin'  but  a  good  friend  .      don't  know  if  it  was  just  him  ,      but  you  folks  got  a  funny  way'a  signin'  off  on  your  letters  .      i  don't  know  what  five  x's  stands  for  ,      but  at  least  it  seemed  friendly  .      ain't  no  harm  .      i  can't  pretend  i  understand  them  all  that  much            ❞        (  spoken  as  a  bi  man  who  doesn't  know  he's  bi  right  now      [  …  ]      joke's  gonna  be  on  him  some  day  ,      except  it's  gonna  be  a  semi  that  hits  him  right  in  the  nuts  )        ❝            and  i  also  support  homo  wrongs  .      i  see  you  use  your  fist  to  knock  a  man  out's  causin'  you  trouble  over  who  you  like  to  keep  your  company  with  ,      i  ain't  hesitate  to  look  the  other  way  .      i'll  kill  a  homo-hatin'  bastard  out  there  too  .      if  you  ask  .      for  five  dollars  .        ❞

[penddraig]

there comes a point in one's life where they must determine whether they will stand and face the fight proudly and bravely,   or if they would rather turn tail and dart away to protect themselves.   in the years since he had truly learned to wield and restrain his magic,   howl had learned a good many things about himself.   one :   that he likes to be out and about,   to flaunt his own self-made spells for others' enjoyment.   two :   that having his abilities doesn't necessarily mean he's infallible and untouchable.   and,   three :   that he really,   truly does not want to be caught by a certain someone's certain malicious witchcraft.   he knows he isn't safe in the woods,   and he rather not have liked to leave the comfort of his enchantments,   but he felt he had no choice.   there are things to do,   and he can't stay inside forever !

unfortunately for him,   he had severely miscalculated just how well he could disguise himself and how long he could go without being noticed.   a cantankerous and temperamental stormcloud,   the tiniest wisp of smoke,   a stretch of clawed feline rage :   no transformation is enough to ward off the strong bout of magic that swarms his way.   his flight leads them through small tunnels in the ground,   over large hills,   into the depths of a forested valley.   eventually,   he does lose his pursuer,   having gained enough ground to hook himself around a tree,   turn it semi-elastic,   and fling it back into the menace's face.   it lets out a shrill scream and careens past him,   giving up the pursuit almost instantly.   it gives howl a chance to curve back around,   landing in the tree as a small parrot.   then,   soon,   he's back to himself, leaning against the trunk of the tree and listening to the sound of yet a second pursuer.   this one,   though,   doesn't seem as malicious.

@wolfvirago.   " tell me of the beast,   and i will hunt it for you. "

❝    i’m afraid there is no beast for you to hunt,    ❞    he says from his place in the tree,   peering down at the stranger's flaxen hair,    ❝    and if you’re hoping you’ll somehow find a beast if you follow the trail for long enough,   that won’t happen either.   i know exactly what it is that’s plaguing this land    don’t ask specifics ;   i won’t give them to you,   nor am i even able    and i know it won’t come easily,   either.   i predict it’s already gone and disappeared right off the path ahead,   so you’ll be hard-pressed to find it now.    ❞    carefully,   he adjusts his balance on the branch,   careful not to accidentally tear any of his clothing.    ❝    besides,   you shouldn't.   it's dangerous.   far more dangerous than anything you've encountered.    ❞

.゜––   of fairytales, folklore and faekind.  /  𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

[atlantaen]

BITES HIM!!!

arthur  ,    standing  there  with  his  arm  lifted  into  the  air  and  lilly  dangling  by  her  teeth  from  his  forearm  .          ❝        you're  biting  me  .    i  just  got  back  and  you're  biting  me  .        AT  LEAST  GIVE  A GUY  SOME  TIME  TO  PEE  .        ❞

[hadobreeze]

❛ don’t worry, i’ve got your back! ❜ (from arashi. she's literally just offering a face mask. she's dramatic <3)

             " Oh ! " she takes the face mask in her hands, "My face does look a little dry huh ? " and tired but she refuses to talk on it.

[kiyinian]

Part one

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Ex-husband Simon who: Didn't leave your side when you said you were pregnant, who went to see you every day, even if those visits were after his work, in the middle of the night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Made video calls to you when he couldn't show up at your house, talking to you and the children, asking you multiple times if you were okay. Most of the time he listened to you talk about your day, he listened until you fell asleep on the other side, and he watched you sleep for a while. When he saw that you were safe and well, he would whisper goodnight and I love you, hoping that you would somehow hear it.

Ex-husband Simon who: Always found a way to go to all your appointments, just as he had done with your other times when you were pregnant. Every month he would go with you for a check-up, he could even play the tough guy, but he couldn't hold back the tear that formed in the corner of his eye when he heard the little ones' heartbeat. His own flesh and blood.

Ex-husband Simon who: Cried his heart out when he found out he was going to be the father of two girls, feeling nervous at the same time. At the ultrasound, he held your hand so tightly, his other hand stroking your hair as you watched your girls. He couldn't have been happier, and even happier that you were carrying his children once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Almost committed a traffic accident when one of your kids called him, the little one saying that you weren't feeling well. He drove as fast as he could to your house, his hands shaking as he went to look for you. It was even worse when he found you pale, almost falling to the ground, probably a drop in your pressure. But it was enough to keep him up all night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Wouldn't take no for an answer when you told him he didn't need to move in with you, that you could manage on your own. But how? A whole house to look after, children, pregnancy. No, it was too much. You didn't have to deal with it on your own when he was around. So despite your protests, the next day he showed up with his suitcases, ready to move in with you once again.

Ex-husband Simon who: Did everything in the house, he didn't let you lift a single weight, he didn't even allow you to spend much time walking back and forth. You were pregnant, getting bigger and bigger, all you had to do was relax. The rest he did without complaint. Although he did burn the food, most of the time.

Ex-husband Simon who: Never ignored your cravings, no matter if it was late at night, or early in the morning, he would buy you whatever you asked of him. Even if it meant going out in the middle of the night to buy some random flavor of ice cream, he didn't care, as long as he could see you satisfied.

Ex-husband Simon who: Bought all the baby's utensils together with you, from the crib to the clothes, bottles, pacifiers, whatever you wanted to buy, he would go with you, and pay for everything, of course. Always buying toys for your other children, too. And he'd always buy whatever you wanted or needed, he'd never forget you.

Ex-husband Simon who: Surprised you by preparing the babies' nursery with everything you had bought, he renovated an entire room to make it fit for the arrival of the girls, and he also made some changes to the little ones' room, giving it to them as a gift.

Ex-husband Simon who: Watched you every night, waiting for you to fall asleep, keeping a watchful eye in case you needed something, anything. He was willing to help you with simple things, even if you needed help going to the toilet, if you had a craving, he was there for you. Once he saw you already asleep, curled up in the sheets, cuddled up with your comforter, he would go over to you and give you a kiss on the forehead, whispering I love you, and silently praying that you would respond with an 'I do too'.

Ex-husband Simon who: Agreed to spend the whole night by your side, comforting you after you had a terrible nightmare involving the children. He lay next to you as you asked, gently wrapping his arms around you and hugging you, kissing you on the cheek and calming you down.

Ex-husband Simon who: Felt his heart skip a beat when you told him you loved him and needed him, and that you wanted him to move back in with you and the children permanently. You didn't have to ask him twice, because he was absolutely sure that he would come back to you whenever you wanted him to.

Ex-husband Simon who: Couldn't contain the urge to kiss you, to touch you, just hearing you say you loved him, was enough to ignite a hot flame in him. In a matter of seconds he had his hands all over you, once again claiming what was surely his.

Ex-husband Simon who: Slowly pushed you to the side, spooning you from behind, his lips on your neck as he slowly entered you, pampering you with little kisses here and there. He made love to you so gently, in such a loving way, thrusting into you nice and deep, just the way you liked it. He'd be fucked if he didn't make this night with you count, he did everything the way you loved it, just to hear you begging him for more and more. He wasn't going to let you out of his arms that night.

Ex-husband Simon who: Woke up before you, ready to make breakfast for you and the children, but all his plans went up in smoke when he heard you give a little gasp, whispering that your water broke. He panicked.

Ex-husband Simon who: Knew it was your third pregnancy, but he couldn't control the adrenaline when you went into labor, it was always like the first time. He didn't waste much time and took you to the hospital, praying to whatever God up there that everything would work out.

Ex-husband Simon who: Stayed by your side throughout your labor, holding your hand while whispering sweet words in your ear, he didn't care how hard you were squeezing his hand, it even hurt, but he wanted to do the best he could to help you. It was desperate that he couldn't do anything for you, but his ears focused on the sound of crying that echoed through the hospital room, the first girl had come out, healthy and well. After some more time, thank God, the other little one came out healthy too.

Ex-husband Simon who: Cried inconsolably while holding one of the girls in his arms, rocking her while looking at her with all the tenderness in the world. She was so beautiful, so reminiscent of you. His heart beat so fast as he saw one of his little girls, his little daughter. Just as he didn't leave your side, watching you breastfeed the other little one. He tried to stop himself from crying even more at the sight.

Ex-husband Simon who: He won't leave your side, ever, not even if you asked him to. Especially now that your family was even bigger, he knew the responsibility that would come with two small children, but he also knew that every night awake would be worth it. Just as he wouldn't give up until he put a ring on your finger once again.

[againholy]

tag drop !

[faith-forgxtten-land]

Come to Bed | Donatello

this started with the idea of seducing donnie into healthy sleeping patterns and then just. spiralled from there. i didn't really have a specific iteration in mind but reading it back, it definitely fits bayverse most, i think, so that's what i'll categorise it under!

warnings: NSFW, swearing, general filthiness? gender neutral reader, everyone is 18+!!

summary: there is only one way to get donnie to come to bed (two if you count blackmail)

word count: 2411

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It’s nearly 3am and your eyelids feel heavy, eyes glassy and beginning to ache just a little, and Donnie is still not in bed. You look at the empty space beside you, cold and untouched, and kick the covers off your bare legs. The air is cool, goosebumps raising the moment you abandon the comfort of bed, and you almost regret getting up as your feet hit the freezing floor.

Donnie is so lucky you love him and care for his health.

He's exactly where you'd left him hours before, sitting hunched over a desk in his lab, and you wonder briefly if turtles with their shells can suffer the same complications as humans with poor posture. Perhaps you'll force him to join you and Mikey for your bi-weekly yoga sessions. “Donnie?”

The terrapin doesn't so much as flinch, instead burying his face further into a screen that is already way too close to his face. Oh, his prescription is definitely going to need updating soon, you think amusedly. You clear your throat, attempting your best grumpy Raph impersonation. “Oi, four-eyes.”

Now Donnie does flinch, beak nearly crashing into his monitor, glasses slipping as he salvages his precious technology from being assaulted by his face and spinning in his seat to glower at whoever dared disturb him. He relaxes when he realises it's just you, shooting you a scowl that's devoid of any real heat. “You need to stop doing that voice, it's creepy.”

You grin at him, noting the exact moment he registers what you're wearing – or, rather, what you're not wearing. His eyes go wide and his lips part, scowl melting like ice doused in salt. He swallows thickly. “You're meant to be a ninja,” you tease, stepping slowly into his space and letting his hands fall to your waist before they curl around your back as he pulls you close, palms flattening against your spine. “You can't hear when one measly human is behind you?”

“You are so mean to me,” Donnie says instead of answering.

“We both know you like it. Besides,” you look down at your naked skin, his own eyes following your pointed gaze eagerly. “I think I'm being pretty kind, actually. Someone was meant to come to bed three hours ago and ravish me, but apparently, I'm not more interesting than,” you peer over his shoulder as best you can, squinting at the tiny squiggles. Lips pursed, you look at your boyfriend flatly, not bothering to finish your sentence.

“I can explain.”

“World of Warcraft? Really, Donatello?”

He winces at the full name. “I wasn’t playing for long,” he defends himself. “I’ve been looking over some things Leo asked for since this morning, I was just taking a break.”

“Taking a break means coming to bed and not staring at a screen for even longer.” Softer, you add, “I’ve been waiting for you for hours.”

You run your hands up the bumpy skin of his muscled arms, over scars and rough tissue that you’ve pressed kisses to countless times, to rest upon his shoulders. A small part of you is resentful, but the larger, kinder part of you is concerned; his eyes are bloodshot to the extreme, and exhaustion is etched deep into the lines of his face. You dig your nails in and massage a little roughly, feeling those worried knots and doing your best to soothe them with gentle palms.

It hits him then, just exactly what he��d missed out on by getting caught up, and his shoulders sag under the tender weight of your caress, twitchy energy that can keep him up for days deserting him instantly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly.

You smile at him, fond and warm, one hand trailing upwards to cup his jaw. “It’s okay.” His skin is something you’ll never get tired of touching, you think, as you rub your thumb over the swell of his cheek. You pinch him a little, coy and mean the way you know he loves, before soothing it with a whisper of a kiss when he hisses playfully. “Although, you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“And what is my punishment?” he asks dryly, guilt pushed aside to indulge in your teasing as you lean closer to hide your smirk in the crook of his neck.

“You’ll be in bed by 11 p.m. sharp every night for the next week.” You can tell an objection is on the tip of his tongue, and you fix your teeth along his throat in warning. “I’ve already cleared everything with Splinter and Leo.” 

Donnie sighs both in pleasure and in resignation. “Are you trying to seduce me into having healthy sleeping patterns?”

You start to kiss his neck, soft grazes of your lips against his scaled skin. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Well—”

“If the answer isn’t yes, I’ll be very offended and I’ll be forced to dump you,” you add airily, tongue flicking leisurely over his rapid pulse. “You're incredibly lucky I haven't already for ditching me for World of fucking Warcraft.”

“Oh, blackmail too. Lucky me,” Donnie mutters, but it’s full of mirth and he doesn't push his luck any further.

You grin against his skin, and you grin even wider when he starts as your teeth scrape along the column of his throat. His hands have a bruising grip on your hips, and you bite down harder just to feel his grip tighten.

“You’re such a tease,” he whines, unable to stop himself bucking up into you. His breathing has turned to panting, short and desperate gasps that make heat curl in your stomach, and you trail your nails down the keratin of his plastron slowly.

“You love it,” you murmur coyly, fingers brushing against the elastic of his waistband mischievously. “And you deserve it.”

Donnie curses loudly, head falling back as you pull on that elastic just to let it snap back against him. His pants are soaking, and you feel that familiar rush of smug satisfaction as you slot your knee between his thighs. It does terrible things to your ego seeing him like this; it makes you drunk and dizzy seeing him drenched and needy for you, and you groan under your breath as he grinds against you. 

“Please,” he whimpers.

You hum as casually as you can. “Please what?”

“Fuck, please, I need you—” He cuts himself off with a loud cry of your name as you slide two fingers past his waistband and into his dripping cloaca.

“Keep going.”

He’s quick to turn into a blubbering mess, drool running down his chin and words slurring as he babbles and begs you to continue finger-fucking him. “Don’t stop, please—yes, yes, right there, there, fuck—”

Your fingers pump in and out, scissoring inside him at a harsh pace you know he likes. He’s sopping wet but that doesn’t stop the tiny spikes of pain mixing deliriously with pleasure as you stretch him wide without warning. You can feel his slick coating your hand, running down your skin and over your knuckles, and he only gushes more when you add a third digit.

“Faster, faster,” he chants shakily, almost sobbing when you slow instead. 

“You’re so tight, baby,” you purr. “I wouldn’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s definitely sobbing now. “I can take it, please, please.”

“Oh?” You curl your fingers and fuck him harder and faster, just the way he wants. His cock is there, thick and heavy and ready to drop, and he shudders as you brush softly against it.

His voice is choked as he calls your name again. "Gonna drop, please–”

Your laugh is light and a little cruel and it makes him wail, the sound overflowing with need and desperation. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh god,” Donnie gasps as your fingers rub along his length still tucked inside, a fresh wave of slick trickling down to your wrist.

“I would’ve been kind,” you tell him nonchalantly, kissing his temple and huffing another laugh when he can’t stop his hips from grinding into you, body begging you to bury your fingers deeper inside him. “But you’ve been such a bad boy.”

He drops with a guttural groan followed by a pathetic whimper, gasping apologies feebly.

You sigh and pull your hand back, your resolve faltering just a little when Donnie whines and cries louder at the action. “You’re being very bad tonight, baby.”

He’s still wearing his pants and you roll your lips to hide a smile as he tugs them down frantically, his cock finally free in the air. His hands grip the arms of his chair so hard that you swear you hear them creak, desperate to touch himself but not wanting to disobey you any further. It’s a bit late to play innocent and good now, and you shoot him an unimpressed look that makes his jaw clench. “Please,” Donnie breathes.

Your hand is still soaked, and you watch him watch you as you raise your fingers to your lips, sticky tendrils trembling as you rub your fingertips together before parting them slowly. Eyes fixed on his, you glide your tongue over his slick, sucking gently and exhaling quietly at the flavour that blooms over your tastebuds. The arms of the chair are definitely creaking now, and you smile coyly as his cock twitches.

“Please.”

As much as you love teasing him into a pathetic frenzy, you remember his weary eyes and decide to put him out of his misery. There’ll be plenty of time to punish Donnie the way he deserves later – lots of edging and whining and begging and very little relief. For now, you’ll give him what he wants.

You kneel between his legs, coquettish as you glance up at him through your lashes; he’s working his jaw, teeth clenched and eyes darting wildly as he barely holds himself together. Grasping his hard cock in your hand, slick and heavy, you begin to pump slowly.

The chirps and churrs that escape him are whining and full of ecstasy, his eyes fluttering as you squeeze your palms around his thick length, hands twisting with an obscene squelch at every stroke. The lab is quiet apart from the wet pumping and his throaty groans, and you wonder if his moaning will be loud enough to wake the others. It wouldn’t surprise you, and the thought makes your hand move faster as you rub your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock.

Donnie can’t stop the stutter of his hips, head falling back. “Fuck.” He swears louder as your lips suckle his tip, your name a rasping prayer spilling from his mouth. You flick your tongue, tasting the slightly bitter flavour of his precum and just how soaked he is, evidence of what you do to him coating your face, and he cries noisily when you suddenly take another few inches into your mouth and swallow around him. He’s hitting the back of your throat, and he feels like he’s about to faint from how tight and warm you feel.

A wave of embarrassment hits him as you pull back and smirk, his head still pressed against your flirtatious smile while you continue to work him with your hands. “Please,” he begs for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“You’re so good at begging,” you praise, eyes sparkling when it makes him moan lewdly. Oh, that definitely woke someone up. He’s back to bucking his hips and because you’re so kind, you let him dictate the pace as you continue pumping.

“So close,” he breathes shakily. “I’m so close, please.”

“Please, what?”

His eyes roll back, and the arms of his chair finally give way, crumbling under his crushing grip as impressions of his hands mould into the metal. Donnie doesn’t stop rocking and whimpering. “Please let me come.”

You kiss the head of his cock once more, delighting in the way he tremors at the whisper of touch. “Be a good boy and come for me, Donatello.”

There’s nothing Donnie loves more than being good for you and he shows this by coming undone the second his name leaves your lips, body jolting and convulsing like he's been struck by lightning as you continue to milk his cock while his orgasm wracks through him. Your face is completely covered, ropes of his come painting your skin as he groans pitifully, the sound agonised and mewling. 

It’s almost silent for a few moments, the only noises are Donnie’s wheezing pants and whimpers of oversensitivity, and you watch him quietly. He’s so beautiful like this, blissed out, stress a stranger rather than a constant companion, and you wish you could both stay like this.

The moment is over too soon as the terrapin manages to open his eyes blearily, although they nearly shut again in dizzying satisfaction when he catches sight of your come-smeared cheeks. It’s dripping down your chin, threatening to spill down your neck and to your chest, and a part of you wants to leave it, relishing in the way Donnie is entirely transfixed, but you scoop what you can on your fingers and bring the sticky threads to your mouth instead.

Donnie’s lips part and his breath hitches and it’s your turn to shut your eyes in pleasure, eyes rolling and unable to stop a soft groan as you lick and swallow what he’s given you. “Mean,” he accuses again when you finally open your eyes, and you grin at how faint he sounds.

“Just for you,” you agree and he churrs instinctively, flushing as you snicker. He’s so cute, you think fondly, letting him reach out and grasp you closer, seeking comfort. And so easy.

“I think I need that nap now,” Donnie tells you weakly, and you huff another laugh against his sweaty skin, tasting salt and nuzzling further into him. 

You press a loving kiss to his shoulder and reluctantly pull back. “Shower then bed, come on.” His legs are shaky, and you purse your lips to stop from chuckling as he stumbles like a newborn lamb, begrudgingly relenting to leaning against you. “Poor Bambi,” you tease, brushing your lips against his plastron in a loving caress when he grumbles playfully. 

Hopefully, no one has been awoken by your night-time activities and, if they have, you hope they’re not up and roaming because you’d really rather not have to bump into any of Donnie’s family with his come still coating your face.

[ghostbsuter]

Batclan and Catband (part 1)

> next part

.・゜-: ✧ :-

"I can't believe this." Are the first words out of his mouth once he arrives at their usual breakfast spot.

Elle is still sleeping, head laying on his shoulder and dozing.

Selina, obviously amused, cradles her coffee cup instead of answering.

"Marrying behind my back!" Danny continues, stopping for a moment to give her a look. "Am I invited?"

"Kitten, of course you are." She laughs, making grabby hands to the toddler.

Grumbling, he hands the little star over, leaning back into his seat now with the weight gone.

His mother figure, now with toddler in arms, positively purrs at having her grandchild.

"You do realise you will have to meet your new siblings?"

"Shit. Does Bruce even know I exist??"

At the vague answer and shrug, Danny curses once more.

They have their breakfast in peace after, with lots of questioning and coos once Elle woke up. In the end, Danny leaves with a few phone numbers and a new goal.

He gets to give THE Bruce Wayne the shovel talk.

—

Unknown Number joined the Chat

Danny: hey

So

Who wants to twll the big ol' bat hes a grandpa now

Multiple people are typing. . .

Tim: Whomst the hell

Steph: what

WHAT

Danny: >;)

Tim: what does that mean

—

Anticipation rang high as dinner time rolled around

Bruce had no idea what was going on.

The confusion only grew when Alfred looked at him with a certain twinkle, the one where he knows of something.

In fact, he is only slightly baffled when his fiance strolls in with a teen in arms.

Of course he picked up the signs, the hints and vague wording. Selina wasn't very much hiding the toddler toys or the fact she had a room always closed, and when asked, gave the strangest words and explained nothing after.

At least he now meets one of two mysteries.

"Bruce Wayne," the teen says, grin forming. "I'm gonna give you the biggest and best shovel talk in the world."

It broke the ice and some of his kids arr cackling, definitely gleeful.

Damn, selina's kid is gonna fit right in.

[14dayswithyou]

I'm sorry if this already been answered but I swear I couldn't find if... I'm curious how would enraged Ren(dacted) look like? Like we've seen him a little pissed off but that's pretty much it. How would he(both versions) react if mc did something REALLY unsavory? Or other people who are not potential murder targets (like completelly unrelated to mc, just pissed him off personally and are not worth making his hands dirty). Would he yell? Would he just suck it up? Retaliate somehow? Throw a punch? I know he wouldn't hurt our mc but still he seems like quite an irritable fella, even his Renren mask can't hide it lol Also how does he behave when eleminating targets? Like is he the *laughing maniacly* type of yandere or the ice cold and silent type? Would he have a long talk with the target telling them just how wrong they were? Play a little game maybe? Or would he just quickly do the deed and forget about it? Also...why the sledgehammer?? Looks cool and all but it's not the handiest murder weapon out there... Are there any lore reasons for it?

✦゜ANSWERED: cw: mentions of gore, torture, murder, and similar themes. Also not proofread because I'm on mobile and formatting is p a i n T_T

I've mentioned this a few times before, but [REDACTED] is an extremely patient guy. It'd take a lot to make them feel genuinely pissed off — but even then — they're eerily cold and apathetic, which might result in zero reaction out of them. Because they're so apathetic, there's nothing stopping [REDACTED] from just offing the person who's annoying them and continuing on with his day.

I think the only thing that'd elicit a genuine reaction out of them is if someone killed Angel. But obviously this is ignoring the fact that [REDACTED] will only respond emotionally to Angel and no one else. He would genuinely start tearing up if Angel cupped his cheek and told him that they truly loved him.

[REDACTED] is also very unfazed when eliminating their targets. There's hardly any emotion shown on his face outside of an occasional smug or triumphant smirk — but most of the time — it's nothing more than an unsparing glean in their eyes. If [REDACTED] went through with their red room days, they would most likely play up an online persona to make themself seem more interesting to their viewers (all whilst he tortures his victims). So... I guess his behaviour is very dependent on what the situation is and what it calls for.

[REDACTED] is a genuinely apathetic person (if it doesn't involve Angel), though he'll put on a persona if it's necessary.

As for the sledgehammer; Ren is 6'5" (personally) and has a sleeper build. He's more than capable of swinging it around like it weighs nothing, using it as a barricade to lock his victims in a room, break their limbs and stop them from running, or just make himself look scarier just by dragging a bloodied weapon across the floor. [REDACTED] also frequents rage rooms, so he's accustomed to swinging around a sledgehammer than, say, a gun or knife.

I've also mentioned this before, but Ren can do more damage to someone with a phone or laptop than a sledgehammer!!

[slowd1ving]

Hey I could request for a Daniel Park who has a crush on Male! Reader ( fluff please )

27,000 WON ゜・DANIEL PARK

Armed with nothing but a headache and the fit of a wayward uncle, it's perhaps not your proudest moment. But it's a moment nonetheless: one the cashier in this stupid convenience store locks away in his pounding heart. aka first meetings with this guy /// anon this is more crack than fluff I'm sorry ..my idea of fluff is getting a free umbrella from a fumbling cashier because it's raining, I swear it sounded better and fluffier planned pairing: daniel park + male student reader warnings: mentions of alcohol, convenience store weirdo #1 + #2, tiny bit of violence, not a warning but shy daniel (in both bodies), more reader-centric than anything, pre training arc wc: 2.2k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Without an umbrella, Seoul was a miserable place tonight. Anyone else might’ve appreciated the dense shimmer of rain streaked neon with this fluorescent city, but your head throbbed miserably with the urban cacophony. Fuck. It was pointless stumbling out onto the grey asphalt when you were in such a shit mood. People swarmed and jostled, and you might’ve stepped on a foot or two as you leaned against the rough, corrugated shutters of a closed shop: barely holding on to both your sanity and your consciousness. 

Ironically, it was the detestable luminescent rods that saved you, beckoning your damp body towards a 24-hour convenience store. Warily, you peered at the cold lights—and they winked back. Winked, for their clinical flickering suggested sentience, or at least, some sort of quest window that was your beacon for safety from the downpour. 

Located on the very corner overlooking an alleyway, it really wasn’t very surprising that it was a magnet for trouble too—if you objectively looked back on the situation. Dark, dingy, smelly—all were generous, polite adjectives you’d use to describe the surroundings. 

You dodged the businessman puking up his guts on the off-white wall with a strained smile and a pained twitch in your eye. An abandoned soju bottle sloshed onto your shoes from his wobbling, and your day (night) became worse. Immediately. Biblically, your irritation surged to such unprecedented levels that he might’ve turned into a pillar of salt had you even an ounce of psychic talent.

Still, you stepped across the threshold smelling faintly of pollution and alcohol, but you were finally in one of Korea’s sanctuaries. Albeit soaked, shivering, and possibly seething with annoyance. The triple S threat of all bad days. 

“Shit,” you cursed as your phone rang in your pocket. Desperately juggling the two bottles of barley tea and a lychee ice cream onto the top of a freshly polished shelf, you scrambled for the device and swiped it multiple times with wet fingers. Stupid, stupid phone, you thought as it creaked in your incensed grasp. Answer the fucking call, damn it. 

The caller ID was as followed: stupid sod. The person on the other end? Well. 

“Where’d you go? The weather was supposed to be rainy all through the night, and you really went for a walk?” The voice on the other end of the line was just as irritating as ever. Nasally, too, like if a short dog suddenly started barking with a French accent. Your head throbbed just trying to imagine it, but you did suppose your younger sister was a migraine and a half. 

“Hungry,” you muttered. The brick-red plastic basket at the entrance clattered against the linoleum floor as you pulled it out single-handedly, but still you tried to keep your voice down during these witching hours. Those two barley teas bounced against crimson when you swiped the goods into your mode of carrying, and you thoughtfully threw two blue, cardboard packets of paracetamol into there too. Now, you were just missing some yellow to complete the haphazard primary colour wheel you cradled. 

“What? Can’t hear you.” Your eye twitched at her admission, and you just knew she was squinting at her phone with an open mouth as if she could simply inhale the frequencies instead. 

“—yeah I don’t have my ID, but you could let it slide, right?”

“Hungry,” you enunciated, clearly, for the dear sister struggling to hear a single word. “You happy? I’ll be back in twenty so just don’t burn the house down. And clean out your ears—I don’t want to give the poor guy working the graveyard shift a headache by talking loudly, especially since you’re a banshee on speaker.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismissed. “Get me those chips—those ketchup ones—and those peach candies. The knockoff ones, you know which ones.”

“With whose money? Get them yourself, you lazy bum,” you sighed exasperatedly. You were on, what, your last twenty thousand won? In this economy, too.  

“—what do you mean you can’t just let it slide? Hey! I look over 21, don’t I? C’mon man, don’t make this difficult.” There were snippets of conversation threading along into the spool of your own, and your eyes flicked upwards. One poor cashier in his green vest, hands clasped like God would possibly rescue him from this situation if he was pious enough. The other had an obnoxiously fake leather jacket draped over him—a wannabe thug if you ever saw one. 

“I sent you some, you broke shit. Like, you literally have a job, so there’s no need to be so stingy. Get me some lemon tea too,” she groaned. Her syllables dragged out abrasively, but you were more focused on the conversation unfolding in reality rather than how much you hated her voice. 

“I’m sorry, I really—I legally can’t sell you these products if you don’t produce a valid ID.” The clerk had guts, you had to admit. His voice cracked just twice in his answer, and though he was about half the size of the guy blocking the lottery ticket view, his shaking fists clenched and unclenched. You liked the look in his eyes: determined to stand on principle, even if it was just to some guy high off a power trip. 

“Okay, sure. Uhh, I might be back in forty. I just need to do something.” Words, as fickle as they were, drifted into nothingness while your eyes communicated your intentions. It was a pity you didn’t want to see her irritating face—you would’ve pressed the video call on Kakaotalk just so she could get front row seats to a beatdown. To be clear, the harrasser’s beatdown, not the harrassee’s. 

“Hey. What’s that supposed to mean? Hyung? Fuck, not this— don’t you dare hang up, we’ve literally got our first day tom—”

“Gross.” You made a face as you finally pressed the red button; she should’ve known you’d simply leave the call sooner if she used that term. Cooties. Idiot cooties. Dropping the phone into your pocket and her cavity-inducing requests (plus some cup noodles for your grumbling stomach), you set the basket a safe distance away before eyeing the cashier. 

You were quite the expert in miming and clownish arts, if you said so yourself. His face turned everything from unsettled to confused to hesitant in the span of two and a half seconds: pointing first at yourself emphatically; then to the man’s back as he stood waving his arms about; and finally making a fist and clenching it, all to really emphasise your point. Me. Him. I punch. 

You don’t know if he took it as a joke. You hoped he didn’t, but his eyebrows crinkled and uncrinkled like he was trying to figure you out. 

However, he didn’t exactly have the luxury of piecing together the implications. Not when the man became dangerously more incensed as he was asked to leave, and certainly not when he was about to grab the poor employee’s vest with those nasty hands of his. 

Gross. 

There was no time to hesitate and plead the heavens for forgiveness. 

“Hey man, there’s no need to be a dick to workers,” you gritted out, gripping both his arms in an ironclad grip that miraculously relieved some of your tension headache. Like some damn stress ball, except this was not satisfying at all as you felt the hair on his forearms shift together. Ew. Ewww. 

“Who the fuck are you?” His words sounded garbled, temples throbbing while you glared down at him. Get out. It was enough of a pain to move fast, let alone come up with an answer that didn’t sound corny. In a soaked hoodie, slippers and tracksuit bottoms, there was little you could say that wouldn’t make you stay up at night in embarrassment later on. 

“Shut up,” you instead bade, since you looked like an uncle in this particular outfit. Might as well give out life advice. “Don’t give yourself liver and lung problems, kid.”

The cashier’s lips might’ve twitched in that moment, and your own suppressed the agonising grimace that convulsed through your face. Fuck. Why was a high school student giving life advice to this dropout?

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He began rocking his body to build momentum and twist free—and twist he did. Through the air and right into shiny, slippery linoleum after he canted his hips sideways for a weak punch. And you threw him, plain and simple: collar grasped tight in your aching fists. 

Success. You did not hit anyone! And neither did you accidentally wreck any of these painstaking displays! You would not get chewed out with a slipper curve-balling straight at your head tomorrow!

“Are you—” the cashier began, but you gestured ‘wait’ with a splayed hand as you stared down at the half-conscious man at your feet sheepishly. Was he… alright? Any more of a brain shake and he could end up more stupid than he was five minutes ago, because how the hell would some random shopkeeper join the National Assembly and change the law? Just so this buffoon could buy drinks without an ID. 

“Hold on,” you muttered with a dented pride and some shame. “Let me just—”

You hoisted the guy’s cheap leather-jacketed arm around your shoulder and dragged his wobbling body out, too repulsed by the stench emanating from him to pay heed to his nonsensical babble. There. Now the businessman holed up outside by the bin would have a buddy for company. For good measure, you tossed a powerful mango body spray into the red basket to douse yourself with promptly. 

Awkwardly, you placed the miscellany onto the little table the thug had bracketed off—only this time the cashier’s opponent was some guy trying desperately to not wilt away on his feet. 

“Um. Sorry about that—” The apology was muffled through your hand dragging across your face—peeking through your middle and index finger at the guy in front of you. Pinned to his vest was a nametag you hadn’t spotted earlier: Daniel Park, noted in size 15 Latin characters and rounded hangul alike. “—Daniel Park.”

Gosh, you even bowed. “Please forget what I said to that guy, for my dignity.”

“Sure.” Once his voice had stopped shaking, it really was quite pleasant to the ears—though it currently shook with barely suppressed laughter. He scanned your items with a tiny, tiny smile. “Thanks for that. I might’ve gotten punched if you hadn’t been there.”

“Real pricks out here,” you grumbled. “No sense of shame or anything.”

“Ah,” he quivered for a brief moment, and you felt your ears heat with just how much you sounded like an ahjussi. 

“Forget I said that too,” you muttered mournfully: five stages of grief beginning and ending within you. “I promise I’m not that old.”

Plastic rustled as he pushed the bag towards you: “Twenty-seven thousand won.” And with it, a cheap polka-dot folding umbrella was also pushed your way with a self-conscious smile. You froze, and he floundered. 

“As a thank—as a thank you,” he waved, panicked. 

“Well, thanks.” You honestly were a little dumbfounded at this sudden good fortune. Maybe you’d get struck by lightning on the way home—you were tall enough that it could probably serve as a conducting rod if you tried hard enough. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Just like that you were gone. Back into the neon rain of Seoul you walked, though this time it wasn’t as bad with a pattern over your head and acerbic ice wedged between a sheepish pout. 

・゜・

With a barely suppressed yawn, you stood loudly and proudly (silently and exhaustedly) before your new class. They looked like any other crowd of teenagers: gum surreptitiously being chewed, sneakers squeaking right against vinyl flooring, and a barrage of interesting fashion choices as befitted this department. Back to your own name, you introduced yourself while thinking of about a million other things you could’ve been doing. 

Speaking of your new classmates, they may have been looking at you with curiosity, but there was one particular guy who looked like he’d seen a ghost. Another pretty-boy you’d never done business with, but somehow—for some damn reason—he was staring like you’d shot a horse in front of him. Staring like he was the shot horse. Seriously. Paracetamol was limited in how far it could cure a headache. 

Your gaze met his, and he flinched. Who’s this guy?

Fuck. 

Daniel Park was done for. As you looked at him, he could feel his heart threaten to explode and spatter this whole classroom with veins and sanguine matter. Still wearing that same hoodie, still grinning lazily, and still sporting that confident expression like you could handle anything. His pen creaked in his tight grasp. 

By all heavens, this man was flushed red as soon as your unimpressed gaze met his—pink and suppressing the urge to hide his steaming face in his hands. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

・゜・

“Daniel, why the hell is your face so red?”

‘Are you sick?’

“He’s basically the healthiest out of all of us. Can’t be illness.”

“Okay so you agree it’s unusual then?”

“How odd. Maybe he’s come down with a fever.”

[weemssapphic]

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 22

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Larissa Weems x fem!reader

chapter summary: is Larissa right to be nervous to meet your parents? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

words: ~ 3k | ao3 link in title

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Larissa had gotten a call from you the following morning, asking if you could come over when she was finished with work. It was getting dark out earlier and earlier every day, however, and the thought of you driving alone through the woods again in the dark made Larissa’s stomach churn, so she insisted she come to you instead. 

That evening she drove over to Burlington, picking up some sushi on her way to your apartment. You answered the door with a soft smile on your face, which widened to a massive grin when your gaze dropped to the takeout bag Larissa was holding - it made Larissa’s heart skip a beat, and she couldn’t help but grin back. You ushered her into the living room, taking the bag from her and emptying its contents onto the coffee table as Larissa shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of the smaller couch, before taking a seat on the larger one.

“Cass?” you called out - there were footsteps in the hallway and the brunette poked her head into the room, giving you a questioning glance as she tugged a brush through her hair.

“What?”

“Clear your shit off the table before you leave.”

Larissa arched an eyebrow, giving you a bemused glance as you gestured to a laptop, a flurry of charging cables, and a half empty plastic cup of iced coffee (or what was left of it, as the ice had melted and left a thin layer of water on top of the coffee). Cass rolled her eyes and made her way over to the table, tucking her belongings underneath her arm - she was about to pick up the coffee cup when she spotted the sushi and let out a squeal of delight, reaching out for an avocado roll.

“Hey! Fuck off and get your own!” You swatted her hand away and she huffed, grabbing the cup instead. “I have company.”

“It’s just Larissa,” she said with a laugh, smiling at the blonde - Larissa couldn’t help but smile back, a sideways glance at you showing your annoyed scowl. Cass must’ve noticed too, because she straightened up and started to back out of the room. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry - I’m leaving in 10 minutes anyway. Just don’t forget to put a towel down if you fuck on the couch!”

Larissa could feel her cheeks turn crimson as you picked up Cass’s forgotten hairbrush and threw it out of the room after her.

“I’m so sorry about her, I was hoping she’d be gone before you came over,” you mumbled, your cheeks looking just as red as Larissa’s felt. 

“It’s alright,” Larissa replied, taking your hand in her own and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles as she looked up at you with doe eyes. “She certainly is something.” Truth be told, Larissa found it rather endearing to watch you interact with your friends - especially to see how quickly you got riled up and flustered when they mentioned your relationship.

“Do you want something to drink?” you asked softly, brushing a hand through your hair.

“Just water, please.”

You left the room, returning a minute later with two glasses of water and setting them on the table, before taking a seat beside Larissa on the couch. Her hand landed on your thigh without a second thought, urging you to scoot closer until your thighs were touching as her thumb soothed over the top of your leg in a calming, repetitive movement.

As the two of you began to eat, Larissa could tell you were a bit on edge - you didn’t talk as much as you normally would and you ate slowly, fidgeting with your chopsticks between every bite. Larissa wondered if she should ask you about it, but she didn’t have to, as you set your chopsticks down and angled your body towards her.

“So my mom called yesterday,” you said - Larissa could tell you were trying to keep your tone casual, as if starting a random conversation, but your voice shook a bit and it made her stomach flip. You’d started fidgeting with the hem of your shirt in lieu of the chopsticks, and Larissa set her own aside to turn more towards you and take both of your hands in her own, soothingly stroking your knuckles with her thumbs.

“Oh?” she urged, tilting her head to the side. “Is something wrong?”

“No! Everything’s great. Uh, my parents are coming by this weekend, actually.”

Larissa thought she could see where this was going, and she found herself growing increasingly more nervous, wishing you would get to the point. “That’s nice… isn’t it?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it’s cool. My mom just, um, she mentioned that they really want to meet you.” Your nerves were definitely rubbing off on Larissa - she wasn’t sure what made you so nervous, but she could feel your hands tremble in her own and she squeezed them slightly. “She asked if you wanted to come out to dinner on Friday.”

There was a beat of silence as Larissa took a moment to process your words. She hadn’t met a girlfriend’s parents in ages - she hadn’t had a girlfriend in ages - and her relationship with you was certainly a little unique from an outside perspective. She blinked slowly, swallowing against the lump that was forming in her throat. 

“I can clear my calendar for Friday…” 

You blinked back at her, your eyes widening. “Wait, really? Are you sure?”

“Of course, darling…” Despite her nerves, she knew she should take the opportunity to meet your parents. “I love you. I would love to meet your parents.”

You visibly relaxed, squeezing Larissa’s hands in gratitude. “They’re probably just going to embarrass me,” you mumbled, letting go of one of Larissa’s hands to grab a sushi roll and pop it into your mouth. 

Larissa took a sip of her water as the gears in her mind turned. Knowing that you had a good relationship with your parents certainly helped, but nonetheless she couldn’t help but worry about their potential perception of her.

“How old is your mother?” she asked suddenly, steeling herself for the answer.

“Oh, um, I think she just turned 53. Why?”

Larissa’s stomach dropped. “Have you told her how old I am?”

You bit your lip as you glanced over at her. “Just that you’re older,” you whispered with a shrug. Larissa cocked an eyebrow at you and leaned back against the couch.

“Darling,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I know, I know! I didn’t know how to tell them. I’m sure they’ll be fine once they get to know you, though!”

Doubt was already taking root in Larissa’s mind, and she began to fiddle with the strap of her wristwatch. “I admire your optimism, I really do, but a 28 year gap is quite substantial to spring onto your parents like that…”

“I guess… but I’m going to be with you whether they accept it or not, so it shouldn’t matter either way.” You raised an eyebrow at Larissa and she stared back at you unblinking, her worries, quite honestly, not assuaged at all.

“I really hope you’re right, darling,” she whispered.

~~~

Larissa tried her best to keep herself busy that week - anything to avoid overthinking the upcoming dinner with your parents. And she was mostly successful - or rather, the hyde was successful. After Dr. Kinbott’s brutal murder and Xavier’s resulting arrest, Larissa was left to deal with the fallout. 

The worried phone calls and emails from parents, the constant contact with the sheriff’s department, the search for a new therapist for her students, all kept her busy for much of the week, and whenever she called or wrote to you, the both of you avoided the subject of your parents like the plague.

On Friday, Larissa finished her last meeting of the day at 5:00 pm, after going way over the allotted time - it had been an extremely unpleasant staff meeting, as all the teachers were rightfully on edge from the recent attacks. She made a beeline for her office, locking the door behind her and heading straight for her quarters where she spent the better part of an hour standing in her little walk-in closet, choosing a dress to wear and trying not to overthink. 

She couldn’t help the way her thoughts drifted to her own parents, how she would feel if the roles were reversed and they’d decided to come into town on short notice. The thought made her shudder - she hadn’t seen or even spoken to her parents in years, they didn’t deserve to be involved in her love life. Not that they would approve anyway - her mother had always hated that she’d dated women (a sexual perversion, she’d called Larissa’s crush on Morticia), and her father wouldn’t dare go against anything her mother said… if he even cared enough at all, anyway.

She found herself praying to a God she didn’t believe in that your parents were different.

Settling on a cream-colored, woolen dress with long sleeves and a square collar, with pumps and a coat to match, she sat down at her vanity to fix her updo and touch up her makeup. Every little line on her face was heavily scrutinized as Larissa became overly conscious of the fact that she was so close in age to your mother. She’d thought she was fully over the age gap, had made peace with it, but meeting the woman who’d raised you brought old concerns to the forefront of her mind - worry that your mother wouldn’t accept her, and that it would put a strain on your relationship - the one good and pure thing in Larissa’s life.

Larissa frowned at her reflection - her frown only deepened as her gaze lingered on the deep lines between her eyebrows, around her mouth. She smoothed her fingertips over each wrinkle, working to relax her face - but traces of the lines remained and she slammed her fist down on her vanity in frustration. For a brief moment, she considered shifting the wrinkles away - it would be all too easy to make herself appear younger, to completely rid herself of the slight bags beneath her eyes and the smile lines that gave away her nearly 50 years on this earth…

Her phone lit up, drawing her eyes down to the screen and snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a text from you, asking if you should wear heels out to dinner, and it was successful in dragging a chuckle out of Larissa as she picked up the phone and shot back a text.

Larissa: Wear what you feel comfortable in x

Y/N: Are you wearing heels? Y/N: Nevermind, of course you are

Larissa chuckled a bit more freely at that, biting back a smile.

Larissa: How about I pick your shoes when I pick you up?

Y/N: PLEASE

Larissa: I’m leaving in 10 minutes.

Y/N: Ok, drive safe! <3

Larissa: Thank you.

Standing from her vanity without so much as another look in the mirror, Larissa grabbed her lipstick and slid both that and her phone into her clutch, slipping on her shoes and coat and making her way out to her car, hoping she wouldn’t run into anyone who would delay her.

Luck was on her side - the halls were deserted and she was soon on the road, taking the shortcut through the woods to have as much time as possible with you before dinner. She pulled into the parking spot nearest your apartment, finding herself almost shocked at how confidently she walked towards your front door, as if it were her own. She rang the doorbell and the door opened almost immediately, your bright smile at her presence stealing the breath from Larissa’s lungs.

You were a vision in a form-fitting black turtleneck and gray, high-waisted trousers with a thin black belt, your makeup natural and your feet bare. Larissa mirrored your smile, reaching forward to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and immediately cupping your cheek and tugging you in for a soft, lingering kiss, a pleased hum leaving her lips.

“Hi,” you whispered as you drew back for air, a blush flooding your cheeks, and you reached up to fix her lipstick with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” Larissa whispered back. “You look beautiful.”

Your blush deepened and you quickly ushered Larissa inside, past your roommates in the kitchen and into your bedroom, closing the door behind you. “Which shoes?” you asked, gesturing towards a line-up of shoes at the foot of your bed that made Larissa laugh. She placed her hands on her hips as she scanned the options, humming in thought.

“How about these?” she asked softly, tapping the front of her own shoe against a pair of black, heeled loafers with a gold buckle. You murmured out a ‘thanks’ as you sat down at the edge of the bed to put them on, then graciously took Larissa’s hand as she held it out to help you up, whirling you around to face the floor length mirror in the corner of the room. 

She pulled your back flush against her front, her hands resting on your abdomen and her chin resting on your head as her gaze traveled the length of your body in the mirror, finally landing on your shoes. “What do you think?” she whispered, her gaze flicking back up to meet yours in the mirror and gauge your reaction.

“Perfect,” you whispered back, a little breathless, your cheeks a little flushed - Larissa smirked, her eyes darkening as your own eyes widened.

“Pretty girl,” she purred, a warmth rising in both her chest and her cheeks as your bodies seemed to melt together into one. 

“We have to leave…” Your voice was a little hoarse, and Larissa’s stomach churned as her arms tightened subconsciously around you, your words slamming her back down to earth. She closed her eyes for just a moment as she took a deep breath, pressing a lingering kiss to the crown of your head - then, reluctantly, she stepped back and allowed her arms to drop to her sides.

“Let’s go then,” she said, holding your bedroom door open for you and allowing you to lead her out to the car.

~~~

The drive to the restaurant was rather short, yet it felt like hours to Larissa, who was drumming her fingers anxiously against the wheel. Your hand on her thigh soothed her, but only a little, and as she pulled into the parking lot, she found herself scanning the rows of cars to spot your parents, even though she quickly realized she had no idea what they looked like or what kind of car they drove. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmured reassuringly, giving Larissa’s thigh a little squeeze. She put the car in park and turned her head to face you - despite your words, you looked nervous as hell, and Larissa couldn’t help but chuckle softly in spite of herself.

“Don’t get me wrong, I really am glad to meet your parents, I just-”

“I know.” 

Larissa leaned in to kiss you but stopped halfway when you turned your head and a look of recognition crossed your face. Her heart began to thunder in her chest, so hard that she could feel it in her throat as her gaze followed yours and landed on a couple about her own age getting out of a white SUV. 

As if on autopilot, Larissa got out of her car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you before you could do it yourself. Her fingertips brushed against your lower back as you stood, searching any sort of contact she could get as her other hand pressed the car door closed behind you. To her surprise, your hand found her hand and your fingers wove themselves between hers as you walked towards your parents - she realized that she probably should have asked you in advance about openly displaying affection in front of them, so she couldn’t do anything but grip your hand as tightly as possible and let you take the lead.

Your father was the first to notice the two of you coming, gesturing towards you with a smile and indicating for your mother to turn around. She did so with an equally bright smile, both of them looking eager to see you as they said hello. Your mother pulled you into a hug first, one which you returned one-armed as you kept a firm hold on Larissa’s hand. 

When you pulled back, your mother turned to Larissa, subtly giving her a once-over and dropping her gaze to your intertwined hands, her smile faltering ever so slightly. To an onlooker, it would have been barely perceptible, but it made Larissa’s stomach drop and her cheeks flush - which she quickly shifted away as she painted a decidedly fake smile onto her lips.

“Larissa, I presume?” your mother asked, her gaze flicking between Larissa’s and your own as she extended her hand towards Larissa.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Larissa replied with a slow nod, her voice sweet as honey - the same tone reserved for some of the more difficult parents of her students. She lifted her free hand, but then the smile slipped from your mother’s face and she dropped her hand to her side, making Larissa’s stomach churn as she retracted her own hand and, instead, smoothed it nervously over her updo.

An uncomfortable silence followed, Larissa’s gaze flitting to your father, who appraised her rather stoically. Larissa cleared her throat as her stomach sank further and, feeling her palm grow clammy against yours, she tried to pull it from your grasp - you held it tightly, refusing to let go as you leaned against her arm.

“Should we go inside?” came your voice from beside her, slightly shaky, somehow sounding miles away. Larissa stole a glance at you, tension and embarrassment etched across your features - it provided a brief distraction as it made her want to scoop you into her arms and shield you from the world.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling,” she said softly, squeezing your hand before letting go of it and placing her hand instead on your lower back, her other hand gesturing for your parents to head into the restaurant.

x

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar @giogwensversion @theswordmaiden @sapphictacobomb

[supernovafics]

I know in the I’ll be there for you universe it’s been established that reader and Steve both have not great relationships with their parents - was wondering how Steve would comfort reader if she had a bad go of it with her dad or mom or both angst and comfort?? Maybe this is too self serving tho so feel absolutely so free to ignore 😭

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k words

warnings: explicit language, brief(ish) mention of reader’s mom being shitty, a bit of angst/sadness but with a wholesome ending<3

summary: in which you’re upset and steve tries to cheer you up

author's note: thank you thank you for the request!! i went back to fall for this one because it just felt fitting. enjoy<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

There was something wrong, but Steve couldn’t tell what it was.

You’d been holed up in your room ever since he got home from his Family Video shift. 

At first, he thought it was something he had done, accidentally leaving Harold’s cage open or forgetting to put something away in the kitchen. But, you didn’t seem mad or upset with him; and he knew that if you were, you wouldn’t have shied away from saying something.

When he knocked on your door and asked what was wrong, he didn’t entirely believe your simple head shake and one word response of “Nothing,” but he decided not to press you further because he knew that you’d come to him whenever you were ready to talk about what was going on. But then hours went by and you didn’t say anything; you even passed up his offer to make a grilled cheese for you, which you usually never did. And that made him worried. 

The time was nearing ten and the only moment you had come out of your bedroom since he got home at six was to grab a quick snack from the kitchen. Maybe you were sad about another crush that had gone wrong or maybe it was something bigger. Steve had no idea, but he felt like he needed to do something for you.

He grabbed a random hoodie from his room and then went over to yours, knuckles tapping against your shut door a few times. When you let out a loud enough, “Yeah?”, he took that as his cue to go in. You were sitting at your desk, textbook and notebook opened up in front of you. 

Steve tossed the hoodie into your lap. “Come on, let’s go.” 

You looked up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” He said instead of actually answering your question.

Even though all you really wanted to do was continue wallowing in your room and keep half-focusing on an assignment that you couldn’t care less about, you decided not to protest his words and adamance.

You pulled his hoodie over your head and slipped on a pair of shoes before following him out of the apartment. 

The drive was quiet and you weren’t in the mood to fiddle with the radio, so it simply stayed on a station that seemed to play the same five “pop hits” on repeat. 

It wasn’t until the final few minutes of the ride that you realized where he was driving to. The roads and turns he made started looking way too familiar, and a small smile took over your face when he pulled into the Dairy Queen parking lot. The closest one was over thirty minutes away and Steve hated driving to it because of that, but you never minded it because even though its menu pretty much resembled the dessert menu of your and Steve’s beloved Third Street diner, there was something about this place that you loved too. 

You were always reminded of the summer when you finally got your license and you’d force Steve to come here with you most nights. You two would eat the ice cream in your car, or at one of the red tables that sat outside if it was warm enough; you loved those memories.

Steve put the car in park and then looked over at you. “I’ll grab everything. Do you want your usual?” 

Instead of answering his question, you inadvertently burst into tears. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked softly as he unbuckled his seat belt and reached over to hug you. It was an entirely awkward and uncomfortable position, but you still immediately leaned into him, arms circling around his neck and face burying into his shoulder. You didn’t mind the way the center console was harshly poking into your side, or the fact that your own still buckled seat belt was in the way. “I thought that coming here would definitely cheer you up. Did I completely misread everything?” 

All you could respond with right then was a barely audible “I’m sorry,” and then you sniffled and let out a breath that only made you cry harder. 

“No, I’m the one that should be saying sorry,” Steve said as he soothingly rubbed your back and the subtle action managed to calm you down a bit. 

You shook your head at his words before pulling out of the embrace and looking at him through blurry eyes. 

“Okay, please be a thousand percent honest with me right now,” You said, somehow finding your voice. You half-heartedly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of Steve’s hoodie. “Do you think I’m selfish?”

“What? No, of course not,” The certainty in his tone managed to wash away some of the shittyness you’d been feeling for the past few hours. “Why would you think that?”

You looked away from him then and slumped back against your seat. “I was on the phone with my mom earlier, maybe like an hour before you got home. She asked me to come to this work event for my dad on Friday night, like some sort of dumb party thing. I said that I can’t since I already told you that I’d go with you to take the kids to that new arcade a few towns over. And honestly, even if that wasn’t happening I’d still probably make up some excuse to not go because I hate going to those work parties. But, anyway, my mom called me selfish for saying no, and I know it’s stupid, it’s so stupid, to believe her, but there was a part of me that did. And still kinda does.” 

Usually, most of the things that your mom said to you went in one ear and then out the other, but for some reason, this comment managed to stick. You started overthinking things, feeling like the worst person ever because of something that wasn’t even true, but maybe it was? And you couldn’t stop thinking about that.   

Steve grabbed your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not. I promise.” 

You found yourself believing him and how sure he sounded. He was probably the only person you’d always believe entirely without question because he knew you better than anyone else. You suddenly felt stupid for thinking that your mom was right in the first place. 

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled and then met his gaze again. “This is all so dumb. I’m sorry that you only drove here because I’ve been acting like a sad idiot for the past few hours and you were trying to cheer me up.”

He shook his head and gave you a small smile. “What do you mean? I love coming here.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “You don’t, but thanks for pretending.”

“Do you want me to get you something?”

You nodded and smiled at him. “The usual, please.”

“Okay,” He said before stepping out of the car.

Because of how late it was and since it was the middle of the week, there was no one in line aside from two teens and an older woman, so Steve was back in less than ten minutes with a simple vanilla cup with rainbow sprinkles for you and a cone for himself.

“Thank you,” You said as he also handed over the spoon and napkins that he had stuffed in the pocket of his jacket. 

“Remember those promises we would make when we were kids?” He asked and you were quick to nod, immediately knowing what he was referring to. 

You inwardly smiled as you thought about the slightly elaborate “running away” plans you two made when you were twelve and thirteen. It would always happen after he’d have some sort of disagreement with his parents, particularly his dad, and he’d sneak over to your house in the middle of the night. Or any night you found it hard to sleep because your thoughts were consumed by your parents and all of the pressure they put on you to do well in school, so you’d go to Steve’s place because talking with him was the only way to wash away some of your stress. 

“I still stand by all of it,” He continued. “One of us says the words and we leave. No questions about it. I still don’t know where we’re going, but we’ll figure it out on the way.”

It felt less likely to happen now because you two technically had “left;” moved out on your own. Not necessarily far away, but far enough from your parents that the shit that used to be almost too unbearable became a little bit easier; mainly because you two had each other. And moments like this one only further proved that— you’d always be there for one another. However, that didn’t change the fact that those silly little promises still always stood. 

You smiled at him. “I think our plans had something to do with joining a circus.”

You weren’t sure which of you had suggested it, but you still found it funny either way. 

“Ah, yes, the circus idea,” Steve nodded, laughing a bit. “Not one of our best ones.”

“Oh, wait, actually, I think we either said circus or rodeo.”

“Both equally bad ideas, but I’d still do it for you.”

“And I’d do it for you too,” You told him before eating another scoop of your ice cream. “Hey, I know it’ll probably be midnight by the time we get home, but is the grilled cheese offer still on the table?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[penddraig]

His hips may not lie, but they are ATTRACTING GHOSTS WTF HOWL

you heard it here first,   folks !    not only do these hips not lie,   but they're also bonafide ghost magnets.   ghost vacuum cleaners,   like those ones luigi has.   get yourself a good pair of cursebearing hips,   and you too could start attracting ghosts of your own for the low low price of your heart,   your soul,   and your peace of mind !!!

[hadobreeze]

"You can barely stand."

hidden injuries ( accepting )

        " You should see the other guy " chuckling her knees wobbled retaining what little weight they could withstand. Was it her or did the world's gravity become heavier? Sakura clutches onto a dirty bike railing her knees buckling. Slowly her hands climb across the railing taking one step at a time. " I-I'll be okay ! This is nothing ! "

[greenboyfriend]

choose something cold... (tarot card reading)

"what do you need to know?"

image 1: it's cold. I mean, really cold. but your blood is warm, even if your fingers are blue. where's your soul? image 2: a framed painting depicting a wintry landscape, complete with a log cabin, whose blue smoke trickles from its chimney and blends in with the world around it. image 3: three ornate glasses, made of ice. are those cracks intentional? or just by virtue of its design? image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

there’s an opportunity being presented to you. it may be a celebration of some kind, or just something that has a lot of excitement surrounding it. what i’m getting most of all is that this may be a chance to find freedom. with the seven of swords reversed, maybe you’re the type of person to handle your problems on your own, “lone wolf” style. there’s a million reasons why someone might do this, but for you, you’re afraid or distrusting in others. when you opened up in the past, maybe it didn’t end up so well for you, and this has made you keep things mostly to yourself.  however, the four of wands reversed tells us that this lone wolf energy is blocking you from fully enjoying yourself. “freedom”, in this sense, is the freedom from yourself, or rather, your fear. in the original Rider-Waite-Smith deck, the seven of swords shows us a man with his arms full of swords, shirking off to his own devices. for you, these swords represent an unnecessary burden, being wary or even afraid of others to see your true colors/problems/ect. opening yourself back up again is a task much easier said than done, i know. but the 6 of cups shows us what this looks like, once fully realized. when we talk about our problems and emotions, we’re able to release and/or deal with them more easily. i’ve definitely been in the position of worrying endlessly about something, just to finally open up to someone, and realize that the answer was sitting in front of me all along. the six of cups represents this as having a “clean conscience.” being, you’ve released yourself from carrying a burden all alone, and have found freedom– the four of wands. finally, the king of cups reversed reminds you to have patience, and to be tolerant of others. not just one person can supply you with all the information or support you need.

(6 of cups, 7 of swords reversed, 4 of wands reversed, king of cups reversed)

2.・。.・゜✭

you’re in a period of transition, be that between attitudes or people. this change has you feeling down. maybe not emotionally destitute, but not in the best spot, either. as you wade through these waters, know that the queen of swords is by your side, and will lead you to better times. the queen of swords is someone with a good head on her shoulders, and will always tell the truth. she is very forthright, and doesn’t do any under-the-table dealings. she holds herself to these standards because of her past experiences, and knows that an honest, open approach will best suit her motives. you may embody the queen of swords already, and if you do, great! if you don’t, that’s ok, too. but it’s time to start really leaning into that kind of energy. don’t conceal the truth– both to yourself and others–, and let yourself have a laugh every once in a while! the thing about being experienced is that you know not to take everything so seriously. the queen of swords can see the big picture, and knows that, even if right now is tough, later will be much better. the place/person/vibe you’re coming from is represented by the knight of wands. i’m getting, cockiness– to the point where you/they were being presumptuous. this might also have had to do with someone being hot tempered, and restless, where they couldn’t handle being bored, so they’d decide to pick a fight. this energy is still here, but not necessarily causing harm just yet. what’s really impeding your path towards healing is the knight of cups. the knight of cups reversed is in direct opposition with the queen of swords, in the sense that he allows his emotions to take control of him, rather than accurately assessing the truth of his situation. he may let his imagination become overactive, and begin believing things that aren’t true. where the queen of swords faces all her dealings head on, the knight of cups may shade the truth, dance around the issue, or simply hope someone else will deal with it. he may also tend to isolate himself from others, which only worsens his imagination into spurring up unrealistic scenarios and focusing too much on his own “failings.” i’m thinking… you’re going to need to temper the knight of cups with the knight of wands. use that fiery, self confident energy to seek out the truth, rather than make assumptions. and, in turn, the knight of cups can help to deplete those feelings of restlessness through introspection. most importantly, keep your head level, and honor the truth above all.

(queen of swords, 6 of swords, knight of wands, knight of cups reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭

so… there’s a lot to unpack here, image 3! i’ll start with this, the energy of the queens of wands and of pentacles are important right now. the queen of wands seems to be especially important, urging you to work hard to maintain her optimism, confidence, and enthusiasm. this situation will require you to be a sort of “soft” leader for others, where you can be looked to for inspiration. if you’re able to serve as a role model through keeping your head up even when the going gets tough, and to do so with strength and vigor, it will not only help you and your purposes, but will also inspire those around you to do the same. the opportunity to embody this energy is not fully here yet, but once you hear the call, you’ll know it’s for you. strike the iron while it’s hot and give it your all! no time for dilly dallying. in being a leader (even if you’re not completely cognizant of it) you will have to temper your generosity with what you know to be true. so, for example, if someone is late to a meeting one time, you may give them the benefit of the doubt. but if they’re continuously late, some changes need to be made. this can also apply to other situations, where you will need to decide between your loyalties and what’s true & just. you may have already experienced scenarios like this in the past, so it will help you to call back to those times for foresight. doing what is fair may be difficult in the moment, but will lead to the best outcome. the queens come together here to guide you on your way. keep trying! you know that you’re resourceful, so don’t be afraid to try your hand at solving problems. it may also benefit you to remain down to earth during this time, and not to try to control what others think or say. at the end of the day, you are your own person, and what a wonderful person you are!  finally, we arrive at the page of cups. i’m getting a very loving, forgiving energy from this card. it may benefit you to invite that energy into your life, both towards yourself and others. when a challenge faces you, or someone is less than nice, decide to turn away that anger with love. consider, what may compel them to act this way? maybe they’re going through something you don’t know about. it’s not that you need to nurture them back to good health, but realize that maybe, they’re just not worth your time, and a simple nod & turning of the cheek will do you both some good. most of all, listen to your intuition to tell you whether or not this argument/situation is really worth getting into.

(queen of wands, 8 of pentacles reversed, 8 of wands reversed, queen of pentacles, ace of swords, 3 of wands reversed, page of cups)

[ughgoaway]

hiiii how’s neighbor matty doing on this lovely tuesday (?) night follow up question can i suck his dick

- heather

omg heather my beloved!!!

neighbour matty my LOVE. he is currently trying (and failing) to make weed brownies!! failing because 1) the man can't bake 2) he's already high and 3) he doesn't have half of the ingredients... so he comes not-so sheepishly to your door and rings the bell and excessive amount of times.

(long rambles below)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"Hi, do you have coco powder?" he asks, leaning on your door frame.

"ye-"

"and caster sugar?" he interrupts.

*sigh* "yes ma-"

"Oh, what about self raising flour?"

you don't respond, staring unimpressed at him until you're sure he's finished speaking. Eventually, he nods impatiently, waving his hands, urging you to answer him.

"I have all-"

"and eggs." he cuts in, grinning like the Cheshire cats, "Sorry, could tell it was winding you up, had to do it one last time." he smirks teasingly at you, biting his cheek to hold in his laughter.

"you're a twat." you reply bluntly, "yes, I have all of those. What are you even making? I didn't think you used your kitchen for anything other than storage and heating up deliveroo. " You turn and walk into your apartment, leaving the door open and silently inviting matty in. you wouldn't be caught dead verbally doing it anyway.

he strolls in behind you, "brownies, but more fun if you know whag i mean" he answers half heartedly, too busy nosing around as he does, analysing the framed photos of you and your friends along with the art that covers your wall.

"hmm. I like this one, where'd you get it?" he says pausing in front of a more abstract collage piece.

"I made that one..." you pause awkwardly as matty struggles to find a response. but luckily you start talking again before he needs one, "self rasing right? and how many eggs was it? oh and caster sugar or icing?"

"uhhh... yes?" matty answers, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"you're useless. I'll come over and help, maybe you'll get something edible that way." you say grabbing two aprons and a bag for your ingredients.

"desperate to come over and have some alone time huh? you're welcome any time baby, don't need the excuse of "helping" me." he winks as you breeze past him ignoring his comments as you usually do.

the baking goes reasonably well, matty was in charge of infusing the weed into the butter and you with everything else. he tried to help but ended up dropping 3 eggs and adding 200 grams more flour than you needed.

you stand around in the kitchen chatting as they cook, 45 minutes melts away so quickly when you're talking to him, much to both your chagrin. but it flows, matty makes teasing jokes, and you roll your eyes and try not to smile (he sees right through your frustrated sighs).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

eventually, the timer goes off, and you force matty to check them.

"just stick the skewer in!" you say standing behind him hovering.

"where though? and how deep?" he huffs, muttering under his breath "why can't you just do it"

"you're a grown man matthew, you can test your own edibles to see when they're done." you tease.

they come out perfectly, and matty is too impatient to wait, ripping into them whilst they're still hot and huffing as he chews them.

"Delicious!" he says, or you think anyway. it's hard to decipher when his mouth is so full of brownie he can barely chew.

you take the last bit out of his hand and eat it, holding eye contact as matty raises his eyebrows at you. Shocking him isn't easy, but you can tell he's a little thrown off.

"didn't think you smoked" he says licking the chocolate crumbs off his fingers.

"didn't say I did. edibles aren't smoking, are they?" you say smugly, licking your lips and smirking.

he smiles, grabbing two forks and the pan before walking over to the sofa, silently beckoning you as you had done to him earlier. you silently follow, despite your internal monologue screaming no.

you sit there and eat the brownies with two forks, slowly getting more and more stoned and giggly with each other and with whatever shitty Netflix Christmas movie you put on the TV.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

you wake up groggy at 3am, huddled into matty's side, your legs intertwined and a blanket thrown over the two of you. your eyes scan around the room as you stay perfectly still, assessing the scene in front of you.

an almost empty bronwie pan sits on the table, along with 6 half empty mugs with drinks you both clearly forgot about. multiple times. the only light in the room is the flashing TV, muted and playing some QVC shopping channel selling so-called "super mops".

You can't help but settle back into matty's warmth. pine and cedarwood overhwlem your senses, the hot skin of his shirt riding up is pressed against your arms, with his curls tickling the top of your head. his arm falls around your shoulders, tightening his grip.

that's enough to scare you straight, your eyes snapping open as you try and wiggle out of his grip without waking him. you manage, and he grumbles as he rearranges fast asleep, pulling the pillow you replaced your body with in close.

you slink out silently, shutting the door and gently as you can before sinking into bed. you know you should change your clothes, but the smell of him is just too much to lose.

(ALSO follow up answer; yes, he's currently sitting on the sofa, ready to pretend to ignore you sucking him off with a cigarette in one hand and the other sat on your head to still remind you he owns you! <3)