mohamedsaber75638

[islayhawkin]

Simon "ghost" riley with ED (erectile dysfunction) and PE (premature ejaculation) due to his past.

Is extremely frustrated and embarrassed every time he fails to perfom. Can't stand the feeling of not having something, his own body, under control. Will tell you how you deserve better and won't be able to meet your eye afterwards.

Sometimes you find him in your shared room aggresivly jerking off as if force would fix him. You need to cautiously make him stop with soft words of reassurance so he doesn't hurt himself.

Will act as if it doesn't bother him and hold his stoic face on everytime you see him struggle with it. If you try to speak to him about it he will get defensive and slightly angry that you would even suggest such a thing. But you can see right through him and small parts of those feelings crack throught his wall once you hold him after a nightmare at the break of dawn.

Talked once with johnny about it when they were a bit tipsy and it was never brought up again. Simon kept the most straight face as if they were talking about the weather.

Simon riley, who wants you to touch him with your soft hands all over. Making him feel strong and grounded. But tries to cover up his private area afraid that you'll be dissapointed and will love him less. Even though he wants you to touch him there so badly. It's the most comforting touch to him.

Simon riley, who apologieses nonchalantly when he ejaculates too fast. And tries to please you in any way he can which made you stop him on multiple occasians.

He can't go throught with any treatment because he is to often away and can't continue it consistently.

It wouldn't work much anyways since he doesn't allow himself to heal from his ptsd even though he gets better at letting you help him throught time and trust.

Simon riley with a ace partner, making him feel comfortable when he can't perform. Touching him dispite his inconsistency on his wish and not needing anything else from him in return.

At the beginning he thought you only said that you didn't want sex to make him feel better and was adamant on finding out what you wanted/liked without talking about it. Because let's face it: he's not good at talking about his feelings at all.

When you react badly to his suggestions/advances he has the biggest shock and will literally not dare to put a finger on you again in case he makes you uncomfortable. Will deny it when you want to talk to him about it.

Once you did tell him everything, when you figured out how it burdned him, he would ALWAYS ask before doing literally anything. "Is this okay?" "Can I touch you?" "Are you uncomfortable?" Are constant murmurs throught his deep throat around you.

Was afraid a long time every time he did the first step at touching you that he is doing something wrong. And battled with those thoughts at night when he wanted, no, needed to touch you so he felt grounded and sure that you were safe.

When you two figure it out together after a long time you are literally the perfect sexual match.

Simon riley not being the sex beast he is often described as.

[lennadanvers]

His Home

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Ace!Reader

A/N: I'm a day late to Ace Week, but I really wanted to post this. I'd love to see more ace representation in fanfiction, so I'm doing my part. Plus, this kind of relationship has always been my favorite- there's something about undefined love that makes it perfect. I really like this one, so much that I wrote it while studying for my History exam. I hope you love it too, happy belated Ace Week!

Ghost is the first one to ask about it.

About you.

It’s late, you went to bed an hour ago, and Johnny offered him a beer. They’re looking at the empty front yard, a normal street in a normal neighborhood- a rare sight for soldiers of their kind. The food you and Soap made for the occasion sits warm in their bellies. The air smells of quiet and night.

Simon has known Johnny for a long time- and he has known him well. He didn’t know about this, though. He heard about you, of course. The first time Soap wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home, it was your name he mumbled. Instructions were clear: his dog tags were for you to receive. Along with everything else in his barracks. Ae dinnae care aboot all the rules. Ye gotta take me home tae ‘er.

Ghost knew you weren’t married- he would have seen it in his sergeant’s paperwork. He decided you were his girlfriend, then.

Until someone flirted with Johnny at a bar, and he happily told them he was single. Single. It didn’t lead anywhere, anyway; he came back to base with the rest of the team that night. Maybe he didn’t have a bird at home anymore, thought Simon.

But then there was the roommate. Soap was always talking about the roommate, how she would always leave hairs in the shower, how the laundry detergent smelled like flowers back home. It was said with fondness, the kind of affectionate jab one develops with family or very close friends. Ghost supposed you might be a childhood friend, then. Someone who had always been in Johnny’s life.

Come the end of their last mission, he had nowhere to stay at. His apartment was waiting for him, of course, but it was as empty and cold as any hotel room. His sergeant invited him home- tae meet ma girl. His girl. That was not a relationship status- no friend, no sister or girlfriend. Just girl, his girl.

He had to say yes.

Then there were you. Johnny’s age, bright eyes full of affection when you saw him. Small, soft hands ruffling the mohawk, saying it was getting out of hand. Nodding when he asked for another trim, bonnie, aye?

You hugged him around the neck, face under his chin. Ghost feared you would suffocate his sergeant. But Johnny’s face was pink, relaxed for the first time since before the mission. His arms were at your back, hands rounding your waist- they were used to that place. His nose deep in your hair- Simon felt like he was overstepping, like he wasn’t meant to see that. No one was.

Until you gave a step back- soft smile, soft eyes, soft Johnny- and welcomed him to your home. You called him L.T., like you knew him. Simon suspected you did. You didn’t try to shake his hand or- God forbid- hug him hello. You didn’t even risk a step into his personal space. He didn’t think it was out of fear- you didn’t blink twice at the black surgical mask. You just smiled and gave him a tour of the house.

That was another thing, the house. Tiny and tidy, cozy. Ghost didn’t have much experience with homes, but that’s what it looked like to him. A place lived in, well loved. A place with a past. Even more intriguing, a place with a future. By the way you talked, he gathered you weren’t renting. This place was owned. Something for the long run.

When you got to the hallway, though, you pointed to the last door. That’s my room! You can knock if you need anything, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Then to the one before that: That’s Johnny’s. Then the guest bedroom and the bathroom.

So you don’t sleep together.

Which would have been an answer to his curiosity, if it weren’t for the kitchen. After he left his stuff- a half-empty duffel bag- in the guest room, Simon went back to the small but charming space that is- all in one- your kitchen, living room and dining room. He was still in his soldier headspace, which means his steps were quiet. When he stepped into the kitchen, neither you nor Soap noticed him there.

You were laughing, hand on his bicep, eyes closed. Johnny was smiling. His shoulders down, his face soft. He grabbed your hand and brought you closer in a weird hug. You swayed together, and Simon almost heard the music you were dancing to. It went on for a while. Johnny went to grab a knife and you’d already placed the cutting board in front of him. You grabbed the oven mitt and he opened the oven.

You two are the perfect machine, always knowing where the other is going next. The smiles never falter. For the first time in years, Simon feels like he’s in a home. It’s confusing and startling. How come Soap has this waiting for him? How is he even able to go on deployment, knowing he might not have the chance to dance around you in the kitchen again?

The thought sparks memories. Soap’s sketchbook, a gleaming eye peeking from the page. His tactical jacket, jasmine perfume as they march through a field. A hair tie in the keychain. Gunpowder hands buying a bracelet in a faraway country. Making flower crowns while waiting for the target to show up. Dodging bullets with blue fevered eyes. Take me home tae ‘er.

He cleared his throat, and you handled him the plates to set on the table.

After dinner, you said goodnight. Johnny kissed your cheek; I left some beers in the fridge. Another kiss on the forehead. You waved at Simon, sweet and tired. Soap’s eyes followed you through the hallway.

Out in the cool night air, Simon asks.

“Tha’ ‘er?”

Soap flinches in his seat. The bottle in his hand twinkles under the stars. Doesn’t seem willing to reply. Maybe he doesn’t know how.

“The one from yer drawings?”

The nod is soft.

“Aye.”

Interrogation is an art. Ghost knows many ways to get information out of people. None of them work better on his sergeant than silence. The man has a need to fill empty spaces.

So he waits until Johnny takes the bait.

“A’v always known her.”

Another silence. Simon doesn’t need to ask the question out loud.

“We arenae datin. She isnae ma girlfriend. Or wife,” Jhonny’s voice is warm and liquid. “She's the love o ma life.”

Curiosity bubbles again. How does this life fit with the man out in the field? How come a cozy little house is home to a demolition expert?

“How’s tha’ work?”

Soap’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a defensive stance.

“She doesnae want sex.”

That’s not quite an answer, so Simon waits. Johnny’s back relaxes slowly, as if relieved by the lack of a reaction.

“But ‘a dinnae care aboot all that stuff. She's here whan ‘a come home, an she takes care o’ me. A tak care o’ her. Thare's nothin more than that.”

Nothing more he could ask for. Nothing more he’d ever want. His eyes glow blue, melting ice in the night. Ghost wonders, surprised, how he never saw it. How he didn’t realize.

After that, he doesn’t ask any more questions. There’s nothing else he’d need to know, really. When the bottles are empty and the air a little too cold, they retreat to their rooms.

The next morning, Simon stays in bed a little longer than usual. He listens to your soft steps in the hallway, the little knock on the door and Johnny’s raspy laugh. He hears the sheets and the whispers, the way he tells you stories about their last deployement- some true (only the lighter ones), the rest made up, with a handsome, Scottish hero. He pictures you tucked in Johnny’s side, his hand in your hair, easy smiles lighting up the room. And he understands. Once again, his sergeant’s words sound in his head.

A dinnae care aboot the rules. She’s ma girl, L.T.

[fbfh]

hello! I was wondering if you could write a Leo Valdez X Asexual Reader? I know you write him horny (which is fine-) so I just wanted to see how he would act with an ace reader :)

-Apollo

absotootly babes!!! listen Leo and his ace s/o is so we'll never have sex by leith ross coded. Leo is so head over heels stupid for you that he genuinely couldn't care less about sex stuff, he's just so glad you exist. He's so glad he gets to exist in proximity to you, that he gets the blessing of being around you, hearing you laugh and watching how pretty you look in the light as it changes throughout the day. He loves listening to you talk, loves holding your hand and dancing with you and getting you to laugh that sweet giggle he loves hearing. He loves spending time with you and making you little mechanical trinkets, giving them to you like a bird bringing its mate pretty twigs and colorful bits of yarn. he loves cooking for you, making you your favorite pasta and grilled cheese and soups, he loves making you little snacks and cutting up your fruit for you. He knows you can do it yourself, he just likes when you let him do it for you. he loves opening your drinks and helping you reach stuff that's up too high, he loves fixing any problems you have with your car or your phone or your plumbing or any other problmes you might have. he loves watching netflix stand up comedy specials with you and laughing at them (but not in the way the comedian intended. usually you're both laughing cause it's really bad.) he loves holding you in his arms and playing with your hair and jewlery, tracing shapes along your back. he loves tapping you little morse code messages even if you can't decipher them. he loves eating takeout in bed and showing you all his favorite telanovelas, he loves watching you get ready in the morning, he loves squeezing you in tight exhuberant hugs and kissing your cheeks and nose. he just loves you with his whole heart, so fundamentally. when you first told him you're ace, that you probably definitley won't want to have sex ever, you were nervous. he could tell you were nervous. when you finished explaining he was super supportive. but he was still worried about you. he didn't realize that's what you were nervous about. he literally said "okay, hey. no pressure about anything, ever. I don't wanna derail cause I know this is important but what's got you so worked up estrella? are you okay? do I need to light someone one fire?"

it's barely a joke. he's so accepting and loving and willing to commit arson for you. he adores you so deeply and altruisticallyand you trust him implicitly. he is never ever going to do anything to make that trust a little bit shaky, much less break it.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Just some tasty self indulgence bc I need it tonight

No cw below the cut, just tighnari reassuring his ace partner 😍

“I can hear you brooding from the study.” Your boyfriend’s teasing voice suddenly fills your ears. Glancing up at the open door, you see Tighnari leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “What are you not telling me?”

“S’nothing, Tighnari.” You murmur in reply, burying your head into your pillow.

“Hey…” he says gently, quickly moving over to sit down next to you on your shared bed. “Is it alright for me to touch you right now?”

You shrink in on yourself, indicating a tinge of hesitation. After a while, you blow out an exhale and nod.

Your boyfriend wordlessly lays down next to you, carefully placing a hand on the small of your back. “Rosebud, what’s going on?”

No words escape, leaving the two of you in a deadly-silent room. You stare ahead at the wall for a few minutes before finally speaking. You ask with a quiet hesitation: “Tighnari… are you sure you want to be with me?”

His face screws into a look of concern. “(Y/N)-“ he places another hand on your shoulder, causing you to turn over and look at him. “Oh sweetheart…” he pulls you in close, cradling your head. “Why would you ever doubt?”

“I was once told that I would never get a partner because of who I am…” you murmur, sniffling a bit as tears start to pool in your eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to ‘fulfill my duties as a partner’, and I’d never make a good betrothed.”

“Sweet pea, I don’t know what you mean.” your boyfriend replies honestly.

You lift your head and match his gaze. Your glossy eyes, with tears flowing down your cheeks, meet his aquamarine colored irises. “Tighnari, we will likely never have sex. Are you positive that you’re okay with that?”

Another wordless moment occurs as your boyfriend smiles at you, wiping your tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m completely okay with you being asexual, if that’s what you’re asking, (Y/N).”

“But-“

“No buts.” he holds the sides of your face and plants a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “I don’t need sex in my life if it means I won’t have a partner as incredible as you. It is absolutely unimportant to me as to whether or not we have intercourse, and I certainly don’t feel like you’re neglecting me, or neglecting whatever these ‘partnerly duties’ are. Do you hear me?”

You nod as you let your head fall into his chest, sobbing softly.

“Sweetheart, I don’t expect anything from you. Sex is the furthest thing on my mind right now. And while I do think you’re absolutely, painstakingly gorgeous, you’ve expressed how you don’t have any sexual desires, and I’ve made it my goal to respect that.” Tighnari runs his fingers through your hair as he explains. “So no, I won’t ever dream of leaving you, nor do I ever want you to leave me. You fulfill any worldly desire I could ever have, so why would I make you suffer to fill one more?”

“But i-isn’t it my job as your p-partner? T-To fulfill your needs?” You whimper, unmoving.

“No, rosebud.” He replies, gently tracing his fingertips over your back. “Not if it makes you uncomfortable. So I don’t care who told you that you were weird and not normal, I don’t care who said that nobody would want you because you’re asexual, I just don’t care about them. I’m here to tell you that I care about you. We do not need to have sex to be close with each other.”

He hugs you closer to him once more, squeezing tightly as his tail wraps around your back. “What I’m trying to say is: I love you, and we don’t need to have sex to prove that.”

As you continue to sob, Tighnari holds you wordlessly, running his fingers through your hair. He carefully leans backwards on the bed, still holding you close to his chest. “I love you, (Y/N).” He whispers, kissing the crown of your head.

“I-I love you t-too, Tighnari,” you reply, mirroring his tone.

A commodity of shared silence is emitted between the two of you. As you slowly calm down, Tighnari never lets you go. Eventually, your stress leaves your body and you finally fall asleep.

Your boyfriend looks down at you and smiles.

“Sweet dreams, my love.”

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[daydream-cement]

hii! i'm not sure if you'll be okay with this but may i ask for a larissa x ace! reader who loves physical intimacy with larissa? idk what setting it should be but there's cuddles, kisses, caresses. just reader basking in her girlfriend's presence. only if it's alright with you. thank you!

Puzzle Night

Larissa Weems x Ace!Reader

Authors Note: GAHH this was so cute! Thank you for requesting this anon!! It's just a short lil fic.

Larissa sat on the floor in front of you as you sat on the couch. She was hunched over the coffee table, eyes scanning puzzle pieces before her. Her body was settled between your legs, humming to herself every few moments when she fit two pieces together.

Sitting up, you admired Larissa in her relaxed state: hair down, make-up off, pajama clad. You smirk to yourself and scoot forward, leaning over her to look over the puzzle to find a match. Within a few seconds you find a piece with words that connected to another, you set the piece in place and lean back on the couch once more, "I've done my part."

"Oh, thank you so very much." Larissa's voice was dripping with sarcasm as she reclined back between your legs, head leaning back to look at you.

"I'm a helper. What can I say?" You return the joking sarcasm with a smirk and a kiss on Larissa's forehead. Larissa's hands move up into your hair, keeping you bent over near her face. She pulled you down a few inches so she could press a kiss to your lips. It was these little moments with her that had made falling in love with her so easy in the first place.

Once you part, Larissa keeps your face nearby as she whispers, "Sit down here with me?"

How could you say no to that?

You move away from Larissa and she pushes the coffee table away, gesturing to you to sit between her legs. You take your place between her legs and pull the coffee table closer, now able to take a closer look at the pieces. Larissa took this opportunity to take a break from the puzzle to pay a little more attention to you.

Her arms loop around your middle and she buries her face into the crook of your neck with a content sigh. Rocking back and forth ever so slightly, Larissa closes her eyes and enjoys the physical content as you place the pieces together.

Larissa remains snuggled up to you for 10 minutes before she presses a kiss to your neck and turns her attention back to the puzzle. One of her arms remains around your waist, holding you close to her as she tries to finish a small section of a red barn.

You grow tired of the puzzle after an hour and recline back into Larissa's arms to rest your eyes for a moment. Larissa maintains her focus on the puzzle, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting her cheek against your forehead.

From the point in which you started seeing Larissa to the point in which you came out as asexual, Larissa was always ready to provide you with the physical intimacy that you loved without ever crossing your boundaries. She was always your safe space.

[kentocidal]

im so tired. dazai and ace gn reader just kissing and being sappy asf. i trust u

users: qpp!osamu dazai x ace!gn!reader

internal warnings: this is written as a qpp relationship, but reader’s discretion. no warnings; fluff, brief alcohol usage, mention of smoking (barely), kissing n cuddling

internal notes: banging my fists on the table. I! LOVE! QPP! SMOOCHING!

you took in a deep breath as you shoved your way through the front door and pushed your shoes and jacket off.

no, it wasn’t your place. but you made yourself right at home, dropping your jacket on the floor and dragging your feet into some slippers that didn’t belong to you. you wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a beer as you heard chuckling from the living room.

“would’ve been nice of you to call, you know.”

“i live here. shut up.” you rolled your eyes, popping the beer can open and finally turning to look at the actual resident of the place you so rudely barged into.

dazai was smiling lazily at you, sipping his own beer, clearly lounging during a rare night in. you, however, did not have that luxury; kunikida kept you behind to clean up one of dazai’s messes.

“you’re a real jackass.”

“and yet, you’re here in my apartment. how interesting is that!” he laughed again, tilting his head as you moved to sit next to him on the couch and deflate like a punctured beach ball.

“your place was closer than mine. i didn’t want to walk home.”

“you had kunikida drop you off.”

“i had kunikida drop me off.” you took a swig of your beer and made a face. “couldn’t even get better beer? this is shit.”

“didn’t know you were coming, your highness. will you ever forgive me?”

“i’m mad at you,” you stated, but it came out more like you were remembering that you were supposed to be mad rather than actually being mad. you yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand, and dazai sat up to reach toward the coffee table and use the remote to shut the television off.

“you look exhausted.”

“wow, thanks.” you shot dazai a look, and he just smiled a bit and shrugged with one shoulder.

“just making an observation.”

he kept his mouth shut for just a moment and let you sip your shitty beer, and then put it down. you sat back again in his couch, turning your head to look at him.

dazai pushed some of his hair back from his face as he shifted us position, resting his upper back against the armrest and bringing one of his legs up onto the couch cushions. he hummed as he opened his arms to you, “c’mon. you look like you need a little something.”

you let out a tiny breath, almost of relief, kicking your slippers off to move and crawl over him.

dazai understood you. you had no drive for romance, not wanting any form of relationship, really, but the need for human connection was always there. dazai had understood from the moment you said it.

you rested your weight on him, feeling his arms wrap around you with practiced ease. his one hand moved to your chin and guided your face towards his. you let your eyes flutter shut as your lips gently met his. he tasted like menthol and peppermint. maybe he did know you were coming over. he was always intuitive.

he kissed you so gently, almost sweetly, but it was more an expression of human connection. it made you feel warm, cared for, comfortable.

you pulled away and he didn’t chase. you settled your cheek against his collarbone and felt his lips graze over your hairline, his long fingers tracing over your back as he held you.

“seriously though, you look like shit. you should sleep.”

“i could absolutely wring your neck right now.”

“you would? really? oh, thank- ow! hey!” you pinched him in the side, huffing against his neck in annoyance.

“shut up. i’m trying to relax here.” you grumbled against his skin, and you heard his laugh rumble in his chest.

“fine, fine. since you did me a favor, i guess i’ll let you use me like a mattress.”

“you owe me a lot more than this.”

“can i pay you in kisses?”

“no. but you can pay me with lunch tomorrow.”

“hm, fair.” dazai mumbled into your hair as he fully went limp under you, and you know he shut his eyes, too. your annoyance faded into that deep feeling of care and gratefulness as you nuzzled more into the crook of his neck.

dazai was an ass, but he was your ass. you could keep him around.

[gonzo-rella]

So after originally identifying as ace and deciding to just use the term queer because of uncertainty about my specific sexuality, I've realised that I am, in fact, more than likely asexual after all. There's probably a more specific label under that umbrella that would fit me, but ace is good enough for me lol. Anyway, with this 'realisation', I'd like to write some more ace!reader fics. When I eventually start writing for TWD, I plan on doing some ace!Daryl x ace!reader fics. Other than that, I'm at a loss for who to write for. So, please send in some requests!

[airbendertendou]

JUST TO KISS ME! ♥︎

synopsis : various asexual!characters w asexual!reader ; non-sexual intimacy characters include : sanzu, belphie, kokonoi, and solomon.

warnings : [name] used in place of y/n or mc ; laying on sanzu in his, if that makes you uncomf you can skip ; solomon puts his hand on your throat w no ill intentions ; sexual jokes ; asexuality does not always mean sex-repulsed

song inspo ; we’ll never have sex by leith ross

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

— SANZU! ♥︎

the air is misty as you leave the shower, steam fogged up the mirrors around you, clinging to each and every surface it could. with a frown, you realize you’d left your favorite lotion in your bedroom. clad in only comfy shorts, you make your way there.

sanzu is dozing on your bed, his bare back greeting you as he lays on his stomach. a pile of bloodied clothes sit near the closet — the same suit he’d been wearing that morning. with a thought, you forgo the lotion and make your way to him.

settling down on top of him gently, you hum in delight as your skin touches his. sanzu lets out a grunt only to relax a second later, welcoming your added weight happily.

— BELPHEGOR! ♥︎

sleepy, dream-filled eyes look around until they see you. you’re sitting on the counter as satan cooks, muttering about a book you’d just read. beelzebub is peeking over the blonde’s shoulder, eyes hungry and ravenous as he watches his brother make dinner.

“mornin’, kid! sleep well?” it’s mammon who spots him first. belphie only hums, feet tapping his way to you. he wraps his arms around your hips, nose nuzzling into your sternum as he yawns. mammon lets out a snort, “like we’re not even here…”

“wanted somethin’ sweet,” he’s teetering on the cusp of sleeping again, ignoring the howls and jokes his brothers make. he hears something about you being the sweetest thing in the house — not that he disagrees on that part. with a kiss to your neck, belphie is snoring once more as you run your fingers through his hair.

— KOKONOI! ♥︎

he was meant to be helping you pick out clothes. it was your date night — a weekly, mandatory thing he tried his best not to miss. but, kokonoi looked so pretty as he juggled between two shirts — two of his favorites that he loved to see on you. so, really, it wasn’t your fault.

“baby, how do you like—“ a yelp leaves his mouth the next second. you’d tugged him down gently by his shirt collar, a devilish grin on your lips that melts against his own. pants echo in your mouth ; his tongue sweeping against yours briefly before he pulls away. koko speaks through giggles, “wait… wait a minute. let me set these down.”

his cheeks are flushed as he puts your clothes back in the closet. you’re still eyeing him heavily, sweeping up every inch of him. kokonoi clears his throat before sitting beside you this time. that’s all you need before you’re diving in greedily once more.

— SOLOMON! ♥︎

asmodeous had a problem. many problems, really, but a certain one that irritated everyone else as well. he never knocked. true to his form, asmo welcomes himself into your room, a frown on glossed lips as he holds two sheet masks. “doll, do you think— didn’t know you guys were into that.”

solomon can’t help his grin, even as he rolls his eyes. a spell you’d been trying earlier almost backfired — could’ve backfired if he didn’t help in time. as a result, your vocal chords had been hit. his hand was around your throat, checking your lymph nodes and making sure everything was okay — that’s all.

you pull your chin down and away from solomon’s hand, your own cheshire grin forming at the comment. catching sight of the masks in asmo’s hands, you speak up. “we’ll invite you next time. go with the green one — it’s good for hydration.”

——♥︎——

made this a personal challenge to only have 3 paragraphs idk how to feel abt them hehe but <3 hope they’re okay

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

[why-what-no]

Desire Trying To Seduce An Ace Crush Would Include

Pairing: Desire x GN!Ace!Reader (sex repulsed/neutral)

Warnings: None

Notes: Wow, this got requested like forever ago. I am so sorry lol. I’m gonna try and do better

Requested by: @callmekohaii

A problem had been found in Desire’s plans of seducing the human that they had feelings for. A problem that they hadn’t anticipated

Your reaction was the problem. All the flirting and teasing glances led to… practically nothing. Of course you were polite, interesting and treated them very well, but you didn’t respond to the attempted seduction from Desire.

No matter how much they tried to use their tried and trusted method of letting you know how they felt about you, it didn’t work. In fact, it seemed like the more Desire flirted, the more you distanced yourself.

Finally, they had enough. Scared to lose you, they (rather inelegantly) blurted out their feelings towards you. Telling you about their love and nervously waiting for your reply.

And to their delight, you reciprocated. You loved them too, and Desire felt joy at hearing that.

When they asked you why you didn’t respond their flirting (and preening), you let them know that you’re ace. That type of courting just wasn’t one that you were interested it.

Desire didn’t mind, they were just happy to have you. And honestly… they were a little flattered. So used to being desired, but not used to being loved, this admittance that you loved Desire for their personality, not their looks and powers, sparked a feeling that the Endless wasn’t used to

A lovely feeling. A feeling of happiness that warmed their heart.

They didn’t have to worry about whether your feelings were just lust, they didn’t have to worry about constantly keeping your interest in their looks. Desire could finally relax with another person

Although sometimes Desire was a little frustrated that they couldn’t get out of trouble with you by trying to distract you with their attractiveness, they will admit that having someone that can call them out on their behaviour is good for them.

They wouldn’t trade away their relationship with you for anything.

Taglist: @dark-academia-slut @silverhart93 @witchthewriter @dangerousdreamkitty @endlessly-entertaining @stygianoir @bumblez-of-beez @jar-of-moondust @kiki13522 @suspiciousmoonlanding

[wizardfrog69]

'•.¸♡ Sigma x asexual reader♡¸.•'

There just isn't enough shit with this beautiful man do I've decided to write something

Everyone experiences asexuality different so I'm just gonna do the sex repulsed, but not uncomfortable about the topic kinda ace

This is just gonna be some hc so have fun reading! And please request as always :)

(Also just a side note I kinda hc him as ace or on the spectrum so yeah, we ♡ Sigma)

TW: slight mentions of a-phobia

You were nervous telling him about your sexual orientation especially since so many people don't accept people who are ace and you were afraid Sigma would leave you

But after telling him you were pleasantly surprised when he said he accepted you no matter what and the fact that you were ace would never change that and he loves you no matter what

But you did have to explain to him what it meant to be ace to you (even if he knew what it meant he would still ask)

After explaining to him what it meant, he still wanted to be with you cuz he's amazing

He did educate himself on the topic aswell from the internet and saw other people's experiences

But he never questioned yours because everyone thinks, acts and just is different

He just respects the hell out of you is what I'm trying to say

And if you ever have doubts about not being able to satisfy him sexually then he will tell you that you don't have to and he'll be more happy for you to not have sex with him then you sleeping with him if you don't feel comfortable with it

Hopefully this all makes sense so far

He loves cuddling with you tho, he just loves lying there with you while hugging each other or while the two of you read a book

Even though you don't feel uncomfortable with the topic of sex he still avoids it

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

I hope everyone enjoyed reading that! :)

Idk if you can tell but I love Sigma and he slays so much <3

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

A Year and a Day

My second piece for the Winter Solstice event!

Sandman fandom, Hob x fem!reader x Morpheus (implied future)

Warnings: language, brief violence, injury

*While you can enjoy this on its own - there's gonna be more. It's gonna be a drabble series in all likelihood.This is becoming my de-stress fic. Mostly fluff, and lots of shenanigans, so let me know what you think. <3

A Year and a Day (the first part of many)

The frigid evening wind cuts through the alley, and Morpheus feels it. He feels the cold, the broken asphalt scraping his palm, the blood cooling on his chin.

A year and a day of mortality.

He wonders if he’ll survive the first night.

As the curse had taken effect, and he’d hurtled into the waking world, he’d done all he could to aim for London. With his power bleeding away and his body closing tight around his severed awareness of the Dreaming, a single name flashed at the forefront of his thoughts: Hob Gadling. His friend. Although several mortals know enough of his nature as an Endless to be of some assistance, Hob is the only one he trusts to actually offer it.

If he does not escape this alley, however, he’ll never put that assumption to the test.

A kick lifts him away from the pavement for a moment, and he collapses on his side, coughing. The men above him loom like tall shadows, backlit by anemic streetlights. Two pounce, rifling through his pockets as he struggles to catch his breath, and he once again thanks John Dee for crushing the Dream Stone. It can never be stolen again. Never be abused. Though, apparently, he can still be parted from his power.

Once they determined he has nothing to give them, one of the searchers swears and kicks him again, this time in the back, and Morpheus arches, teeth gritted in a fresh wave of pain.

“Nothing. Man’s got nothing. No wallet. No cash. No phone.”

The third man, ostensibly the leader, stands closest to the street, pointing a knife to warn their victim against screaming in case Morpheus should recover the wind they’ve kicked from his lungs. He shakes his head. “Dressed like that? Whatever. Coat’s worth something at least. Looks nice. Check again. Rich assholes have hidden pockets – hollow shoes, you know, like on tv.”

The hands return. Rougher. Grabbing and pushing as they try to work his arms out of his coat without letting him up from the pavement. Still breathless, he bares his teeth, reaching for abilities stripped from his grasp. He can’t even sense them. His mind is mortal, too, at least as much as it can be, and he’s left to his assailants’ mercy as he fights to regain his equilibrium.

But he has a long memory, and he will remember their faces. They may not pay for their insult tonight, but they will in due course. He promises them silently. He promises himself.

A flash of light illuminates the alley. Two more. Three more bursts of sun. Like lightning without thunder, without rain or clouds.

All three men turn to look at the source just as a clear, feminine voice calls from the opposite end of the alleyway, “I just sent pictures with all your faces to my friend.”

The one with the knife manages three long strides before the voice stops him.

“If anything happens, my friend will show them to the police. Oh, and I just dialed 999, so I suggest you scarper.”

A suggestion. Through his pain, Morpheus smirks.

Highway robbery is an often romanticized but a less than rewarding career. It has always been thus, but desperation and idiocy lead men down familiar paths, from one eon to the next. These robbers freeze like deer when the woman flicks on her phone’s flashlight, giving the scene a more permanent illumination. More prey than predator. Aggressive when they had the upper hand, certainly, when it was three against one. But they hadn’t planned on an interruption, and now a third party they can’t threaten with their knives and knuckles has their faces. Their true colors leak through.

The quiet one who’s been searching him twists away from the light and runs.

“Fuck this.”

That’s the second.

The ringleader stands his ground long enough to make a weak pass at intimidation.

“Bitch.”

The woman behind the light shrugs, the tell-tale light lifting with her shoulders. “Twat.”

For a moment, Morpheus thinks the man will charge her. He angles his head down and spreads his feet, like he’ll take his chances and sprint over to stick his knife in her throat.

This time, Morpheus hears the phone’s camera app click, and the last attacker bolts after his friends. Too much evidence, not enough loot to justify the risk. An old tale often repeated.

The immediate danger has passed.

He has a destination in mind, but he finds himself struggling to rise. Every ache and burn lingers as he leverages his hands under his chest, pushing himself up to his knees and groaning from the effort.

Light steps approach. Not running. Not hesitant, either. Purposeful.

A hand with short, black nails appears before his eyes. He looks up, blinking away the runny watercolor blur from his eyes to find his savior of the hour, a small woman in a flower-print sundress – thick leggings below and a heavy sweater above to ward off the cool breath of autumn. A strange knight errant, but he is hardly in a position to choose.

Still, he does not take her hand.

Pulling himself upright inch by agonizing inch, he cradles his bruised ribs and offers a brief nod to express his gratitude. Though he is short on options, he is shorter on trust. Mortals are treacherous, often without meaning to be, and he is painfully aware of his vulnerability.

“I dialed but didn’t connect to 999,” she confesses, looking directly into his eyes, ignoring the wounds on his face or his ginger stance. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Family? What do you need?”

He needs Hob Gadling. And possibly medical attention. In that order. How far can he depend on this little stranger to aid him?

“Thank you.” He scrutinizes her, frowning, and she bears it unflinchingly, waiting for him to choose his course. Her squared shoulders and tilted chin suggested she’ll help him down whichever path he chooses. His pride rages against the idea, but his very mortal body feels like it may collapse if the breeze pushes any harder.

He cannot call to mind everything he would know about this tiny hero if he were fully himself, but a whisper of an impression lingers. An extra sense. The three men jumped him before he could pick up anything from them, and all he’d gathered during the assault was the anxiety and anger fueling their rage. But now – now he has a moment, and she has a core of moonstone. A fixed, determined thing all but glowing with dreams and hope.

Decided, he speaks quietly, wary of the new hurts along his abdomen, careful not to aggravate them further. “I am trying to reach the New Inn. My friend, Robert Gadling still owns it, I believe.”

Her eyes light up, and she presses half a step closer. He nearly flinches away, startled by the spark of enthusiasm.

“Hob?” She lifts her phone.

She has Robert Gadling’s name in her phone as “Hob Goblin” and something sparks in his chest that isn’t jealousy.

As she waits for the call to go through, phone pressed to ear, she says, “I was actually on my way there. We’re just a couple blocks away. I’ll help you, but I should give Hob a head’s – Hey! Hob, I – No, I’m fine. There’s – Yes, I’m sure. I just ran into – Hon, I love you, but shut the fuck up. Sorry. Yeah. Bumped into a friend of yours, and he’s a little roughed up. Asked for you, so I thought I’d bring him to the New Inn. Wanted to give you advance warning… Okay. See you in a minute.”

The endearments course naturally through the dialogue, and he wonders what he has missed in Hob Gadling’s past year. But when she hangs up and stashes the phone away in her messenger bag, she gives Morpheus a brilliant smile, like all is well and they’re simply on their way to visit a mutual friend.

“Alright. Let’s get you to the Inn. Would you mind leaning on me?”

The nature of the question makes it easy to agree. He lets her pull his arm over her shoulders, and one little hand settles on his back, like she has the strength to support them both if he stumbles.

They work their way down the quiet street, and she doesn’t fight the silence. Their steps and breath mingle with the hoots of nightbirds, distant arguments, and the occasional passing car. She does not ask him why he is on his way to the New Inn, though she clearly had plans of her own with the owner. She does not demand he waste his breath assuring her he is well when he clearly is not. They walk together, and she makes sure he does not trip and fall on the way.

It is appreciated.

When they reach the New Inn, Hob meets them at the door, eyes wide but unsurprised when Morpheus manifests out of the gloom with his small, colorful crutch.

“It is you.” He rushes out to assume the savior’s burden and helps Morpheus into the empty bar. It’s well past closing, he assumes. “I thought it might be, but I wasn’t – what happened?”

Morpheus glances sidelong at the young woman lingering near the door, and she catches the look, quickly straightening with a fresh smile for Hob and excuse to disappear on her lips.

“I’ll head up now. You two must have… a lot… to – let me know if you need anything.”

She moves to the back of the establishment and slips through a door marked “Private.”

Morpheus turns his look on Hob as the man pulls a first aid kit from behind the counter. His son died in a pub brawl, he recalls. The kit is extensive, and while Morpheus is glad to know he does not need a defibrillator or some of the other supplies contained within, a newly-familiar warmth blooms as he considers his friend.

His injuries, though painful, are not serious enough for a hospital. Hob assures him no ribs are broken after a careful series of pressing touches over his chest, back, and sides. The former soldier finds no evidence of internal bleeding, either.

“I’d suggest we go anyway,” he says, apologetic as he sorts through his collection of salves and bandages, “but I don’t think you have an ID or, you know, the kinds of things they’d ask about. In a hospital. And I doubt you want the police involved.”

“No.”

“Right. Okay. Right.” He flounders, clearly unsure of himself as he tries to care for the entity he still knows so little about. “Well, this should be good enough. We can sort something out down the line if…”

The silence pulls taught over the rustle of Hob’s work, and the whole man’s face is bent in concentration. Morpheus can see the thoughts ticking over his open face. Wondering if he can ask. Wondering what to ask.

“What happened?”

What indeed. There is another story, a long one, one he will not share at this time. He does not feel he has earned this punishment, and he will not give another room to comment.

“A curse.”

“What?”

“I am mortal, Hob Gadling. For a year and a day.”

“That’s…” Hob has to stop and think before new words will grow on his tongue, and Morpheus takes the initiative to press ahead.

“I had thought I may ask for your assistance during this time,” he explains. His eyes turn towards the ceiling. “But…”

Hob snaps back to himself, shaking his head and overflowing with reassurances. “You’re more than welcome to stay! I have a guest room in my flat. She doesn’t live with me. Not really. She’s in the smaller flat, and – uh – yes, you are more than welcome to stay. Please.”

So Hob has not taken another wife. It would be a strange arrangement for a courting couple as well, and he fixes on the topic as a distraction from the way his heart beats in his bruises. “Who is she?”

Hob murmurs her name with a smile, flicks his eyes to meet Morpheus’s, and clears his throat. “Well, she’s a friend. We met online, playing games during the pandemic, and she was on the other side of the Atlantic, so I started staying up all hours just to make sure I caught her.”

Adjusting his position in his chair, he leans in, full of a story, and despite the terrible evening he’s had, Morpheus finds himself falling back into old habits. Here they sit in a tavern, the Endless listening to the immortal man’s continuing life story.

“It was just so easy with her. Talking. Playing. Just enjoying ourselves. And then, about three months ago, she told me she was coming to England for work. Asked if I’d like to meet. And I had the empty flat, and I thought… why not? So here she is. Here we are. And,” he chuckles to himself, a smile pulling his face into its sweetest shape, “I don’t really know what to do with myself.”

Morpheus doubts that very much as he holds the man in a steady gaze.

It is strange.

He cannot know her as he would usually know a mortal, but she treats him with the ease of a friend, and as soft creaking above reveals her as she goes about her business, he feels the lines of a story twisting into new forms, as they had many hundreds of years ago when a foolish mortal declared in the presence of Death herself that he wouldn’t die.

Well. He has a year and a day to understand.

[lennadanvers]

Seven Minutes in Hell

Uni Student!Eddie x Asexual!Reader

A/N: One day left of the Ace Week and I finally finished this (kinda sorta, in the way that I can't and I won't keep adding to it, or editing it or rewriting it). I'm completely burned out, my back hurts and I lowkey hate how this turned out- there's so much dialogue and I read it so many times I just think it's bad now. However, since I put so much effort into it, and since I want Eddie to be with an ace reader, I'm posting it anyway. Please be nice, because I've been in a crisis for over a week and I will cry if you're mean. Also, this is terribly long compared with my usual works. Idk.

NOTE: The Reader is asexual. No, there is no use of the word "asexual" here, because it's not needed for a character to be ace. No, the Reader doesn't explain/teach to others what it means to be ace- they just voice their boundaries. Asexual is someone who feels little to no sexual attraction (and you can use it either as an umbrella term or a micro label- please investigate more if you feel like it! It's a very interesting topic and you can learn a lot!). Being asexual doesn't equal to being aromantic: an asexual can still feel romantic attraction. Also, asexuality looks different for everybody- some aces may be okay with kissing but not sex, for example. This Reader isn't okay with either. I hope you enjoy the fic! Happy Ace Week!!

Okay, this was a very bad idea and you should have realized sooner.

In your defense, life this far from your hometown is… different. Lonely. In Hawkins, everyone knew everyone. You had a safety net all the time. Maybe you weren’t friends with everybody- but you were friendly with most, at least.

Here, on the other hand, you are alone. Big city, small-town girl… a sad combination. You’re barely learning how to survive. None of the skills you had acquired at home are useful here. For God’s sake, you can’t even bike to the store- you have to take the subway.

One good thing about the city, though, is the variety. When you first came here, the thing that seemed the most exiting was how open people were about themselves.

They’re just not that friendly, though. No in a deeper level, at least. They are, however, very active. Lots of parties, concerts, bars and nights out. The girls in your dorm are unable to sleep during the night, apparently.

And if you want to fit in with them, you have to at least attend a party once in a while.

That’s what brought you here. You start to question if it’s worth it, though, when Lindsay- redhead, loud, flirty Lindsay- grabs you by the waist and starts dragging you across the room. She’s nice, but she’s… different. She goes out with a different boy every Friday, and brings another one to her dorm room every Saturday. It’s really not your business, and it seems to make her happy, so you simply steer away from her business.

It's not that it bothers you. You just don’t get it. Well, not in practice. In theory, it makes sense. But when you picture yourself in her place… It’s uncomfortable. Weird. Foreign. You’re happy she’s happy this way- it’s just not for you.

She doesn’t feel the same way.

You see the circle of people too late, take too long to come up with an excuse; and before you can stop her, she’s announced you’re playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

You’ve never taken part in things like this. Never wanted to. Now everyone is looking at you, and you’re just too uncomfortable to run away, even if what you want the most is to disappear. Lindsay goes over the rules. You look around for a way out. Maybe a fire alarm will be waiting for you.

That’s when you see him. A curious pair of puppy eyes, a wild mane of hair and an unmistakable rockstar vibe.

Eddie Munson.

This has to be a nightmare. You remember him from Hawkins High- how could you not? He was always so loud an opinionated, so funny and charming, so… So different from everyone else. It was hard not to notice him in the hallways, but that wasn’t the reason you were always looking for him. See, he had- still has, now that you’re face to face again- something that draws you to him. Something in his smile, in the way he moves his hands, so confident, so in display, like the world is a stage and he’s the main character.

And you’ve always felt like the audience, an external observer, the witness to other people’s stories.

Until now, that Eddie Munson is in the same city- the same party, the same room, the same group of people- as you, far away from the hellhole that is Hawkins. Until now, that he’s staring at you, just as surprised, but a little less terrified. Until now, that Eddie looks like he’s expecting something from you. You’re sure your clueless expression is what makes him smile shily and look down at the floor, where an empty beer bottle points straight at you.

Dread washes over you as people start to cheer. Eddie chuckles and stands up. Lindsay grabs you by the arm- who knew that a girl this petite could be so strong? – and drags you to an empty closet.

Only when the door slams behind you, muffling out the music and noise from the party, you realize what happened.

You’re alone, in the dark, with Eddie Munson.

Trapped in a tiny space for the next eternity (seven minutes). And he’s cute, taller than you remember, and he smells nice. And he’s probably expecting something from you. Something like a kiss. Or more.

And you, for the love of God, do not want a kiss. You want him to be pretty and funny and at a safe distance from you.

The silence is overwhelming, his breathing too close for your liking. That’s the only excuse you can find for what you blurt out next.

“I absolutely do not wanna kiss you!”

The silence turns heavier. You press your hands against your mouth, but it’s too late. Maybe it’s a good thing it’s dark in the tiny closet, because at least he can’t see your horrified face. You hear a scoff and what sound like his feet shuffling to the side.

“Of course you don’t. You’re way too out of my reach, yeah? Were you hoping to be paired up with one of those pretty boys?”

His voice is harsh.

You had seen him argue with Jason Carver before. You had seen him mad, frustrated and mocking. None of those times did he sound quite like this. Never had such an edge. If the lights were on, you worry you’d see a sparkle of hurt in his eyes.

Maybe that’s why you start to explain yourself, panic taking over.

“No! No, that’s… That’s not what I meant at all! I just do not wanna kiss!”

Eddie’s laugh is sarcastic and dark.

“Yeah, I figured that much. Well, guess what? I didn’t wanna kiss you either!”

He sounds angrier now. It’s easy to picture him with his arms crossed.

“Really?”

When the only reply is silence, you know you should have shut the hell up. Or at least you could have tried to not sound so relieved. You cringe.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant either. I-”

“Listen, I have no intention of kissing someone who doesn’t want to kiss me. So why don’t we just wait in silence until the time is up?”

You remember his frown when the jocks made fun of him at gym class. Eddie looked miserable half of the time at school. Now he’s left school, moved away from Hawkins, and you’re making him miserable all over again. Even if you really don’t mean to.

The guilt makes you start whispering.

“Anyone. Ever. I don’t want to kiss anyone. Not now. Certainly not any of them. It’s just that Lindsay forced me to play! I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. Trust me, Eddie, if I wanted to be locked in a tiny closet with any guy at this party it would be you, but I don’t! I just really, really don’t want a kiss- I don’t want anyone to touch me, actually… I’m sorry- I bet you wanted to have fun here and I ended up ruining your chance. Listen, I’ll just walk out of here and tell them I feel sick or something, and they’ll have to give you another chance-”

Before you get the chance to embarrass yourself further, Eddie interrupts you.

“Hey, hey, wait a second there.”

You can feel his eyes on you. That’s the only thing that stops you from yapping to death. You wait, but he takes too long to speak.

“I’m sorry if you thought-”

“I never wanted to make you uncomfortable!”

He cuts your apology short yet again.

“I just thought… I recognized you. From Hawkins. Class of ’89, right? I remember you. I just…”

Eddie clears his throat. You take a deep breath because he sounds softer now. He starts talking again and it’s like listening to a cartoon character- fast and disorganized. Cute.

“I just… I thought you were kinda pretty- back then! You were always smiling, and you used to carry around some of my favorite books. I- it’s not like I like you, I… It’s-it’s been a long time, and… I saw you in here. And you look just as beautiful, you know? I’m never lucky like this. Then the bottle landed on you- I thought I had a chance, after all the years of pini- It’s okay, though, I understand! I bet you have better things to worry about, huh? I bet you’re busy publishing novels or something, right? I remember your poem, the one you read on the talent show- I really liked it!”

Somewhere between pretty and beautiful, Eddie started leaning against the wall. His shoulder is warm against yours. You really don’t mean to, but a giggle escapes you.

“Oh, and now it’s me who can’t shut up. I really should have learned by now. I always end up getting in trouble like this. Do you think I could finish all the oxygen here if I keep talking? I could die of suffocation. That would save me the embarrassment of having to see your face when your friend opens the door. Would you do me a favor and forget any of this happened? I really don’t want you to remember how much of a loser I am...”

You’re laughing now. Eddie’s head thumps against the wall next to you and you decide to stop him.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way. I don’t think I can forget how you think I’m pretty and beautiful…”

Eddie is groaning, and probably shaking his head too- his hair tickles the side of your arm.

“Also, if you died of suffocation now you wouldn’t know that I thought you were pretty too. Back then, I mean. Oh, and you were never a loser. I always thought you were very smart- with all the ways you found to get back at Carver and his clique. Also, it’d be a shame to deprive the world of your music! I remember you at the talent show too.”

His voice sounds muffled. Is he hiding his face in his hands?

“Stop making fun of me!”

It’s not an accusation. It’s whinier and more playful. It helps you relax a little.

“Are you kidding? I’d never make fun of you! I’ve actually always liked you, Eddie.”

You’d swear his breath just hitched.

“Are you serious?”

Lucky you, the darkness won’t let him see the way you’re blushing. You shrug, trying to look nonchalant even if he doesn’t see you.

“Well, yeah.”

He’s quiet for a moment.

“Listen, I think we started with the wrong foot here. Why don’t we… Would you like to… I don’t know, maybe sometime we could-”

A beam of blinding light and awfully loud music interrupts him.

Oh, God.

“Time’s up, lovebirds! Ooh, look at you! Girl, you’re red as a cherry! What were you guys up to, all cozy in here?”

Lindsay is smiling at you, and you want to disappear again. You don’t dare take a look at Eddie; you just push past her, out into the party. You just want to get away. You need to get out of this house; out of the city, maybe- run away from the stupidity.

Stupid Lindsay.

Stupid game.

Stupid kisses.

Stupid expectations.

Stupid yo-

Someone takes a hold of your wrist and brings your escape to an end. Shit.

“Hey, hold on! Wait up!”

You really don’t want to turn around. You really, really don’t want to see his round, starry eyes up this close. You really, really, really don’t want to know how far you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of Eddie. No, you want to pretend you never saw him here. No, the last time you saw Eddie Munson was graduation. He was happy, had that stupidly cute smile of his, and then you never heard anything from him-

“Hey, I’m sorry- oh, God, you said you didn’t want to be touched. I’m sorry!”

He lets go of your wrist as if it was hurting him. His voice is a little too loud now that you’re out of the house. But it’s still gentle and nervous. You take a deep breath and turn around. At least you can’t make this worse, can you?

“I didn’t mean it that way, Eddie.”

“You didn’t…? Oh! Oh, no, you didn’t! No, I see, I- I know. Okay!”

Eddie closes his eyes and scrunches his nose, his head falling backwards. It’s a cute face, even if he looks completely humiliated right now. Something that makes no sense to you.

“Listen, I… Would you like to hang out sometime?”

It’s a simple question. That doesn’t stop you from blinking three times before replying with another question.

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Eddie’s eyes open like a cartoon character’s.

“Shit! You don’t do that either? I’m really sorry. Fuck, I’m an asshole, and I should leave you alone. I’m so sorry. I promise you’ll never see me again…!”

In his rush to give you space, he ends up tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. You try to catch him by the arm, but he’s too heavy and you end up falling too.

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

A laugh makes its way out of your chest and it’s impossible to stop it.

“Oh, God…! Are you… okay, Eddie?”

He’s staring at you as if you were crazy. Fair, because you probably are.

“I didn’t mean to laugh,” but you’re still laughing, “I’m sorry. I guess we’re both sorry, huh?”

The giggles keep coming out.

“Yes… I’d like to hang out sometime.”

His head snaps to you.

“Really?”

You do your best to get the laugh under control.

“Really.”

“Okay, then.”

Now he’s taking your hand and lifting you to your feet. It’s a simple movement, fast and soft; but not faster than your ability to blush. At least you’re not laughing anymore. Eddie is closer now than he was in the closet, his chin a couple inches away from your eyes. He smells like wood and blankets: warm and cozy. It’s easy to forget the party behind you, the loud music and cold air disappearing into his eyes.

“So… No kisses, then? Of any kind? Or is it like touching?”

You find yourself whispering too.

“Just no kisses on the mouth.”

“Great.”

Suddenly, coming to this stupid party doesn’t seem that terrible of an idea, because Eddie Munson is kissing your forehead. And it’s ridiculous, silly and amazing. He’s also blushing, eyes crinkling at the sides and a round, shy smile reflecting yours.

“Just so you know, that counts as our first kiss.”

“First? That implies more than one. Someone’s very confident.”

“Well, the night is young and you look like you have some time to spare. What do you say we get out of here? I could introduce you to the best milkshakes in the city.”

“…I’d actually love that.”

This time it’s you who grabs his hand. Eddie grins, and he looks just like the boy who stood on tables back at Hawkins High: young, brave, ready for adventure.

“I shall show thee the path, milady.”

He bows and you laugh. Walking away from the party and the rest of the world is easy. Comfortable. Natural. The way heaven must feel like, if you had to describe it.

[birdgirl90]

Tangled Threads Updates

Alright folks on here, I have been awful at posting links to the updates.  We are three chapters in on updates since I shared last, so here are the links!

Chapter 15 is here, Chapter 16 is here, and I just posted Chapter 17 which is here! This story will have 25 chapters altogether, so stay tuned!

Tangled Threads is a knitlit Loki/Ace!Female Reader fic where the Reader owns a yarn store in the middle of a small town and ends up crossing paths with Loki. I mostly write fluff, so that’s what most of this is, and the Ace!Reader is based on my experiences as someone who is Asexual in a romantic relationship. (I also knit and fantasize about owning a yarn shop, so you can see the inspiration here.) 

The first chapter can be found here!  I used to try to post the actual story here, but got very little interaction for the effort it took, so I only post on AO3 now. 

~Birdie

[tetriminas]

dating Miles Edgeworth headcanons (Miles Edgeworth x fem reader)

He leaves you for a man

[wakacchi]

After all the cool things they do are actually the smallest things (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶)

Read more of this stuffs at my ko-fi here!

[callonpeevesie]

I'm onto something I'm telling you