#He can have a Tiger quirk

[crosspunzel]

New crossover ship idea

[hanasnx]

“ I CAN FEEL IT, CAN YOU FEEL IT, THERE MUST BE SOMETHING IN THE AIR ” — rafe cameron.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: kinktober; takes place in obx s4 e1 but there’s a slight change; also happy birthday @princessbrunette :) i wrote this for you in mind; and based off of the scene in f&f where dom picks letty up calling her his trophy. WARNINGS: spoiler warning for obx season 4 episode 1 ノ non canon compliant: i made rafe win the race ノ size difference ノ established relationship ノ objectification ノ impact play: ass smack ノ mild exhibitionism bcos of pda ノ praise ノ sexual content: p in v stuff ノ dirty talk.

Your feet sink into the sand as you traipse alongside RAFE CAMERON to his station in the race. His large hand envelopes yours, keeping you balanced as he leads you to his bike. The roar of revving fills your ears, loud enough for your boyfriend to have to lean down to your level to speak to you, walking you through the process and your role here. You’ve never been a flag girl before, but he told you she needs to be a “hot piece of ass” and he wants these boys heads still spinning when he wins the race. As a distraction, you were the only girl he wanted for the job.

“… and all you gotta do, baby, is make sure those guys are lookin’ at you. Show off a little something—just this once, I don’t care.” he explains, and you nod your head while brushing your hair out of your face from the wind. The two of you stand aside his bike and he mounts it, swinging a long leg over it. It creaks from his weight, and you roll your tongue between your lips. Without sunglasses, his gaze is narrowed, meeting yours in the light as he tugs you closer to him. “You look good. Prettiest girl on Figure Eight.” he assures you, the corner of his lips quirked as he checks you out. The tiniest booty shorts you could find and a stringy bikini top, you looked good enough to eat. If Rafe wasn’t so concerned with crossing the finish line while these cucks were still drooling over you, he’d be a little jealous they get such a treat. “Man, you are eye candy. Give me a twirl, c’mon.”

It eases your nerves, grinning bashfully to yourself as he raises your hand over your head, twisting on your toes to show him your outfit. He bites his lower lip hard at the sight of the underside of your ass hanging out of your shorts, and he can’t help but give you a tap. You whirl around from the swat, and catch his eyes flash up.

“Mm, baby.” he exclaims, talking about you like you’re dessert and he’s got a sweet tooth. He doesn’t give you a chance to scold him for smacking your ass around all these people, “C’mere,” he murmurs, yanking you to him until your body is draped over him on his bike. Your manicured nails brace on his chest while he steals a kiss, humming in surprise at him when he tilts his head to deepen it. Takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue along yours in a proper good-luck-kiss, which only makes for a string of spit to connect the two of you when you part. You breathe hard, chest rising and falling from thrill as you search his expression. There’s a glow of love-sickness in his eyes.

You try to milk more attention. “I don’t know if I can…” you begin, alluding to how shy you’re gonna be in front of all these people.

“Oh, don’t start that shit, you’re gonna be fine.” he dismisses, seeing right through you and shrugging you off him so you get it’s time to stop being clingy. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” He plucks his helmet up, and rounds his body to place it on his head while you reluctantly leave him.

When it’s time to start the race, you hold up two bandanas—donated by some guys trying to buy you drinks—and Rafe scoffs to himself, patting himself on the back for being such a genius. “Who wouldn’t be lookin’ at you?” he thinks, while he revs his bike. You even give the crowd a little shake, your girls strapped in your bikini top swinging teasingly right before you set them off with the bow of your bandanas and the low dip of your arch. Rafe could’ve sworn one guy glanced over his shoulder to check out your ass bent over because he lost control of his steering for a second after. The race was on, and you did your job exactly how your boyfriend wanted you to.

Some kook with too much time on his hands made his way through the crowd to invite himself into your atmosphere, watching you as you eagerly await Rafe’s return and your signal to drop the flags for the winner.

A voice too close to your ear alerts you, resulting in a minute jolt of your body when he speaks. “What are you doing after this?”

Brows furrow as you glance over your shoulder at him, “Oh, uh, I dunno right now.” you reply, but you’re not showing interest. It would depend on Rafe’s victory. You refocus, keeping an eye on the horizon and the roaring metal of competitive bikes. Rejoining the crowd’s enthusiasm, you react with them when someone wipes out.

“Me and the boys were gonna head to a kegger in the boneyard. You should come.” he tells you. Again, too close for your liking. He’s not particularly bad-looking, or grabby, but you don’t like how he’s standing right next to you and stooping to speak in your ear.

You face him again to respond, but the race takes your attention away, shutting your mouth to whirl around just in time to see Rafe drive back into view, sand kicking up behind his wheel.

After a close call, he wins, and when it’s safe, the adoring crowd cheers as it floods the scene to congratulate the riders. You’re one of them, beelining to Rafe without a second thought. He’s discarded his helmet, tossing it haphazardly to the sand as he meets you.

“Ah, there’s my trophy.” he says, hands clamping onto your waist to lift you from the ground. You squeal with delight, bracing on his shoulders and kicking your feet up. Slowly he lowers you until you can wrap your arms around his neck. He’s hot and sweaty, and smells like it too, inhaling his scent deeply as you embrace him and he spins you around. You’ve completely forgotten about that kook you left behind.

“Did so good, precious, did exactly what I told you to.” Rafe murmurs against your lips, whipping his bike jacket off behind him while you lead him by his jaw deeper into his place.

“Mhm, had to give them a show. Like you said.” you exhale, nodding fervently as you press yourself to him, desperate for some friction.

“Didn’t I say you’d be fine? Huh? What’d I say?” he goads, and stoops, signaling you to jump into his arms. He catches your legs, securing them around his waist before his hand cups your backside and his other pins you to him by the back of your neck.

“I did so good!” you reply, a little perkier than you’d meant to. It breaks him out into a grin against you, and he snickers through his nose. Bringing you to his bedroom, he settles your back onto the bed.

Lips locked, and bodies tangling together, he struggles to find a spare second to keep talking, “Gonna give me my prize? You gonna put out for the winner?” His hips surge, and a familiar hard outline sweeps across the crotch of your denim.

You nod, poking your tongue out in concentration as you help him to undress fully, and you wiggle out of your booty shorts. The peek of your tongue doesn’t go unnoticed, and Rafe’s lips overlays yours, sucking on the pink tip there toyingly. You relax into it, untensing them to melt into a real kiss as the tip of something else nudges against your sex. Already wet and aching from all the teasing today, you go limp at the promise of what’s to come. Bulging mushroom head lazily thumbing in and out of your slit makes your head throw back and jerk. “Rafe…” you whine. Sodden lips mouth at your cheek and jaw, working their way down to make out with your neck as his hips shallowly rut.

Ringed fingers clutch your face, tucking your chin in the web of his index and thumb. It faces you to him, and you look up at him with doe eyes and pretty brows in an upturn. He wants to watch your reactions as he pushes in deeper and deeper, finally sheathing as you cry out. It’s a stingy stretch, and he can see your want for it in the roll of your eyes and the flinch of your delicate expression. “Yeah, baby, gimme that trophy. That’s right.”

[andypantsx3]

balm — todoroki shouto x reader

summary: you help rub down your boyfriend's muscles after a grueling shift. and then a little more.

contents: established relationship, pro hero au, gn pronouns + afab reader (reader has breasts + vagina), emotional intimacy, aged up characters, nsft, riding, nipple play; mndi please! (2.2k)

You find Shouto face down in bed when you get home, handsome and adorably sleep-rumpled.

He's stretched out on his stomach in only his underwear, his hero uniform discarded unceremoniously across the chair in the corner. His bare back and broad shoulders span nearly the entire width of the bed, and one long leg is bent at the knee. One of your pillows looks like it's being suffocated between his bicep and face, bulging from being bunched up so tightly.

You smile, stomach fluttering with the sight of your pro hero boyfriend the way it always does.

Shouto blinks sleepily over his shoulder at you as you set your work bag and keys down on the dresser, his hair ruffled and face pillow-creased. He looks simultaneously like a model laid out for a magazine spread and a baby kitten awoken from a nap.

You are immediately drawn to him like a magnet, leaning down to kiss him. He makes a low noise in his throat like he's pleased, leaning up to give you easier access.

"Rough shift?" you ask when you separate, petting a hand through that split-toned mop of hair.

Shouto nods, long eyelashes fluttering. "I was pulled into a rescue effort. It took a long time. But all is well."

You let your fingers trail from his hair down to his back, tracing lightly over a shoulder blade. Shouto makes a sleepy noise of appreciation, rolling it out in a way that lets you know he's a little sore.

"Can I do anything?" you ask.

Shouto shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes. He looks almost like he might fall asleep again right there. But your eyes are drawn to the jar of tiger balm he keeps on his bedside, its fiery orange logo all the more vibrant in the glow from the setting sun.

You reach for it, holding it out to him. "How about I do this?"

Shouto's mouth finds your wrist, a soft, warm press of lips. "You do not have to, love."

Oh yes you do. Taking care of Shouto is like a physical compulsion for you now. You might not be a pro hero or armed with a powerful quirk, but you want to protect him and care for him in every single small way you can think of.

You shed your coat, dumping it on the floor, and roll up your sleeves, nudging Shouto into a move comfortable position. He moves with you, the muscle in his back shifting prettily in the golden evening light.

You settle next to him, uncapping the tiger balm and smearing it across your fingers. A low groan escapes Shouto when you work it into the backs of his calves with firm strokes.

"Feels good?" you ask, kneading circles with your thumbs.

His reply is muffled in the pillow, but the tone is appreciative. You knead harder, smiling when all of his muscles tighten and flex, and another lower, longer moan escapes him.

"That's it, love," he says, syllables dragging out deliciously.

It's easy to lose time focusing on your ministrations, working the balm carefully and precisely into every muscle. Shouto is the most beautiful man on earth, the only man whose outside accurately reflects the loveliness of who he is inside. You love touching him, looking at him, feeling him firm and sweet beneath your hands.

You work your way up the backs of his thighs, and then climb onto them to reach his back. You work the balm into his waist, then shift forward to sit on his lower back to reach his shoulders, thumbs searching out any knots in the muscle.

You laugh when you notice Shouto is practically a puddle under your touch. His long eyelashes fan the tops of his cheekbones, and his mouth is slack in relief. You can't help but lean down and leave a kiss on his shoulder.

The kiss seems to rouse him. He shifts underneath you then, rolling his body between your thighs. You suddenly find yourself seated on his stomach, instead of his back.

Mismatched eyes flick up to yours, and one long-fingered hand finds your thigh, securing you against him.

Like this you can see even more muscle, the way his bicep tightens with the movement, firm pectorals, and the hint of his abs before they disappear beneath your spread thighs. You find yourself a little winded.

You dip your fingers back into the pot of tiger balm, then cap it and set it back on the nightstand. Shouto watches you quietly as you lean forward rub it over his shoulders, and the tops of his arms where his biceps begin. You're working it into the divots of his arm muscle when a set of elegant fingers gather up the hem of your shirt, rolling it up over your breasts.

You stop and peer down at your boyfriend, but he just stares back innocently, fingers still tangled in your hemline.

"Excuse me sir, I'm in the middle of treatment," you say, raising an eyebrow.

The tips of Shouto's fingers slide beneath one cup of your bra in reply. You shudder when they pass over your nipple, thighs reflexively tightening on his waist.

"It is working. I find I am feeling much better," Shouto intones. His voice is a low rumble when it leaves him, and it feels like it shoots right to your core.

His thumb slowly pets over your nipple again, a little more firmly. A whoosh of breath escapes you.

Shouto's other hand slowly presses at your lower back, guiding you to lean down closer to him. You abandon his arms, pressing your hands into the mattress at either side of his head so you don't fall onto him.

Like this, your chest is in his face, clearly what Shouto was aiming for. His fingers abandon your nipple to grasp the middle of your bra, pulling it up and over your breasts to band across the top of your chest like a harness, pinning your shirt up.

You shudder and gasp when he bends forward, his mouth finding your right breast. His lips close soft and hot over the same nipple, and it sends sparks streaking down your veins.

"Oh!" you gasp. "I thought I was the one who was supposed to be making you feel good."

"Mmm," Shouto hums into your breast, a delicious vibration. "You are."

His tongue flicks across your nipple, and his arm shifts more firmly over your back, pulling you even closer to him. He sucks a little, then swirls his tongue in a way that makes you feel suddenly lightheaded, teasing you the way he knows you like.

You feel your hips start to rock back and forth on Shouto's waist, thighs spreading a little wider to feel more of him between them. Shouto's hand guides you back and forth, as his mouth moves to your other breast, drawing out a gasp from you.

"Shouto—ah!" you say when his other hand finds your other nipple, smearing in the wetness his mouth left behind, pinching softly.

You feel something stiff nudge the back of your thigh as you move back and forth on him, and Shouto's hips cant, pressing him into you harder.

"Always make me feel good, love," he says, leaning up to catch your mouth.

You kiss him back eagerly, opening your mouth to him. His tongue tangles with yours, teasing like he had your nipple. You muffle a moan when the hand at your back presses you down on him more firmly and the hand at your nipple slides down to press against the front of your pants instead, touching you through the fabric.

You shift into his hand, chasing the delicious friction, indirect though it is.

"Take your pants off, love, I want to feel you," Shouto commands gently.

You obey immediately, leaning back to unbutton your work slacks. Shouto holds you steady while you maneuver them off clumsily, still perched over his waist. He's freed himself from his underwear too by the time you're done, his cock flush and full and as insultingly pretty as the rest of him.

He guides you down onto him, sliding home embarrassingly easily with how eager you are for him. He feels incredible inside you, thick and firm and delicious.

His hips lift as his hands pull you down harder onto him, and the feeling is enough to make your eyes almost roll back in your head.

"I want you to ride me, pet," he says, tone low and intimate.

You nod, cheeks flushing with the pet name he only deploys when he's deep inside you like this. Your hips move, sliding you up and down on him. The pad of his thumb presses to your clit, gentle but firm, drawing tight little circles the way he knows you like.

You move over him, panting with the instant, inescapable pleasure. Shouto knows exactly what you like and how you like it, and everything he does is designed to work you up to your peak embarrassingly fast. His thumb moves over you, unrelenting, and his hips buck and flex beneath you, driving himself a little deeper, a little harder with each thrust.

He leans up to take your nipple in his mouth again, sucking delicately. It shoots heat right down all your veins, settling in your core, mixing with the pleasure of what he's doing to your clit, what his cock is doing inside of you.

"So good for me, pet," Shouto says.

You feel yourself flutter around him with the praise, grinding down on him harder. Shouto alternates between praising you and driving you wild with his mouth, and within minutes you're riding him almost mindlessly, nearly delirious with the feeling of him.

"That's right, love," Shouto says, tone soft and pleased. "Let go for me, pet. Let me make you feel as good as you make me feel."

His thumb nudges you more firmly, and he sucks a nipple harder, tongue teasing over the tip. Everything about him is too good to be true, you think wildly, from the way his cock slides all the way inside you to the way his eyelashes flutter as he sucks you. He's beautiful, he's gorgeous, he is diligent and sweet and delicious.

He gives a hard thrust, no longer content with your pace, driving himself up and into you in a way that makes your blood turn to lava. Combined with the feeling of his thumb on your clit, with his mouth on your nipples, with his arm clamped tightly around your back, pinning you to him—it's all too much.

Another sharp, short thrust from him throws you right out over the edge. You arch into him, crying out his name. Shouto grinds up into you, taking the reigns as your hips stutter, fucking you through it. He gasps against your breast, driving himself into you.

He takes your waist in both hands, moving you up and down on him with his strength alone. The way his biceps cord and flex, and the easy athleticism he moves you with lights up another spark inside you, and a wild noise escapes you when slide right into a climax again—immediately on the back of your last one.

It makes the room fuzz and blur, your blood scorch like fire in your veins, and you shout Shouto's name.

He thrusts into you faster, harder, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows, growing pink-cheeked with the effort. And then his hips stutter, pace faltering. There's the flood of him inside you, sweet and hot.

You collapse onto him, sweat slicking your lower stomach to his.

Shouto pants into your hair, his fingers coming up to pet through the damp strands.

"Thank you, love," he says, mouth finding your ear. He sucks the lobe aimlessly, teeth scraping over the shell.

"I was supposed to be treating overworked muscles but I think I've made the problem worse," you sigh, shifting. You can feel him growing softer within you, but you're careful not to move enough to dislodge him, enjoying the intimacy of him still joined to you.

"A sacrifice well worth it," Shouto says, mouth mapping the skin behind your ear.

You smile, shifting your face into his neck. He smells like sweat and tiger balm—salt and camphor and menthol. You love it.

"I'll just have to find other ways to loosen you up," you say. Shouto twitches inside you tellingly, and you laugh, harder when he nips your ear in reproach.

"Perhaps a shower," he says. "And dinner. And then we will see who loosens who."

You grin into your boyfriend's neck, helpless affection pooling in your heart.

"The right kind of sex could be considered a balm for the soul. Among other things," you say, and Shouto huffs a tiny laugh into your hair.

"Then we must work it in thoroughly, for best effect," he says.

You smile and hum your agreement, knowing you will. You will always take your best care of Shouto, after all.

[mysillycomics]

Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!

You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)

(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)

There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.

First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.

Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.

While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.

Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.

Finally, we’d like to thank you.

To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.

To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.

…

While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.

And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.

Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!

I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.

Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕

____

Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.

Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.

I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜

Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️

[bbyobbyo]

Everyone thinks Vernon is always at your place because you feed him. While you can agree it's mostly true, there might be more to it than meets the eye.

content: fluff, f2l, mentions of food

wc: 1.6k

notes: me taking a stab at writing lol. i also don't know how tumblr works. inspired by the fact that this man will eat everything in sight regardless if its someone else's food or not. i'd love to cook for him someday ❤

6pm on the dot. You don't even have to check to know who it is.

"Hey, Sol." You look up from the pot you've been stirring to greet your visitor who let himself in. Your apartment's passcode was practically muscle memory at this point.

"Hey, smells good in here," he comments while taking off his shoes, "I mean — it always does but you get it." You give him a little chuckle in response.

You hadn't been friends with Hansol for very long, but when a mutual friend decided to introduce you two to each other, you instantly hit it off. The whirlwind of a friend group you now shared was filled with strong personalities and quirks: Seungcheol was the self-proclaimed "dad" of the group but you'd swear he would whine and complained more than the rest of them combined. Seungkwan, the one who always had a sassy quip to share, but would be the first to cry at Disney movie nights. There was Jihoon, who showed his love exclusively with acts of service but is so tsundere he would rather die to admit he had any kind of emotions besides annoyance. Not to mention Soonyoung, who made it his mission to convince everyone that he was a tiger. No one knew how this bit started but everyone finds it entertaining nonetheless.

Amongst them all, Hansol was just a dude. A normal guy. As funny as it sounds, that's what made you two click so well. Not that he didn't have his own aspirations (and his own fair share of quirks!), but he had always been the sort of person that was along for the ride. Although a little bit clueless at times, you could tell his heart was in the right place.

"I brought dessert, by the way," He plops a plastic bag onto the kitchen counter, his cheekbones pushed all the way out in a smug grin, "hope you like it."

"Aww, Sol you didn't have to!" delight in your eyes as you wipe your freshly washed but still wet hands on your pants and scurry over to peek inside the bag. "Oh my god, this is that tiramisu from that bougie place, isn't it?! I heard the wait times were, like, over an hour. You're insane for this, thank you so much!" You're practically beaming as you put the dessert in refrigerator, promptly turning around to give him a hug. His hands automatically reach around your back as you bury your face into his chest. Man, he will never get tired of the way you smile at him over the smallest things.

"You're always feeding me, so it's like, the least I can do really" he murmurs as you let go, his own smile spreading across his face when you look up at him.

Right. Your relationship with Hansol was rooted in the fact that you both loved food. Cooking food in your case, and eating it for him. It was a match made in heaven, really. In the beginning stages of your friendship, you always noticed how he would always ask for bites of other peoples' food, the way he would eye a bag of snacks if anyone dared to bring them out, the "you gonna finish that..?" that would inevitably follow the conclusion of every meal. The guy was a human trash can with a black hole in place of his stomach. So really, was anyone surprised when Hansol practically attached himself to you that day you brought in those homemade baked goods for the friend group?

After that day, the rest was history. His insatiable hunger and the lack of his own cooking skills (poor dude would be consuming toast everyday if he didn't eat out) made him worship the ground you walked on whenever you fed him. In turn, his enthusiasm for your cooking and willingness to give honest feedback on your experimental recipes made him a regular guest at your apartment, much like today.

Hansol would be lying if he said he didn't feel like he was taking advantage of you sometimes, no matter how much you insisted that it wasn't the case. He always tried his best to chip in for your groceries or pick up ingredients when you didn't have time. He didn't even mind the way his friends teased him for being at your place more often than his own or the fact that you gained your own nickname among the guys as his personal chef. He was happy with your little arrangement, and it also helped that you were so easy to be around.

"Hey, can you help me set the table?" you say as you push a stack of plates and tableware toward him. Your attention is quickly pulled away again as you go to plate the food you've been laboring over the past hour.

The routine is a familiar one: sitting down across from each other with a wide array of dishes and sides in between. You always make him take the first bites; "I already taste tested everything as I was cooking, silly!" you would say, eyes focused and hands tucked under your chin eagerly awaiting his reactions and thoughts.

Today's meal was a hit, as it usually is. Hansol could count less than a handful of times that he didn't love your food, and even then he still ate everything despite you telling him that it was okay if he didn't finish it.

The next part of the routine, however, rivals even the food in his eyes. Both of you are glued to the chairs chatting away, even when all the food is long gone and empty plates remain on the table. Between you two, there was always something to talk about. Tangents turn to into more tangents turn into "remember when we…" turn into "we should totally do…" Hours can pass by before one of you even remembers that there was dessert in the fridge, and even more hours before either of you get up again to go wash the dishes. When that happens, you simply carry the conversation to the kitchen except this time with the gentle running of sink as background noise.

You were like a breath of fresh air from the chaos of his main friend group and someone he felt entirely comfortable with. Except lately he's been wanting to see you more and more. He would catch himself staring at his phone hoping a text from you would pop up, asking him to come over again.

He's embarrassed to admit that you have never hung out one-on-one outside of the walls of your apartment. It was an unspoken boundary that you two saw each other under the pretense of food, a boundary that he increasingly would like to cross.

You're not even looking at him, attention focused on scrubbing away at the pot in your hand, still talking about that awkward encounter with your neighbor yesterday. But the longer he stares at you, Hansol thinks to himself — have you always been this pretty? He traces every part of your form, from the micro expressions you make with your eyebrows as you talk, to noticing the little strands of hair by your face that escaped the ponytail you put it in, and the way your left sleeve is slowly slipping down your arm and in danger of getting soaked.

"...so screw me if I thought that it was none of his busine— Sol...?"

Before he even knew what he was doing he found himself abandoning his plate drying duty and sliding behind you at the sink, your back pressed against his chest as he grabbed your sleeve and gingerly rolled it up your arm once again. Just as he thinks you can't get any more gorgeous, his world stops when you turn your head around and he finds your face inches from his. The way your eyes glisten into his own makes the split second feel like an eternity before pulling away.

"S-sorry if I scared you, just didn't want your sleeve to get wet." adding a nervous chuckle to the end as he returns to the stack of tableware he has yet to dry.

"N-no! It's okay! Thank you for that!" you stammer back, trying not to look him in the eyes to hide the very obvious blush that spread on your cheeks. "Ahaha... yeah so anyways, what was I saying again?" Without missing a beat, he replies "you were talking about how your nosy neighbor thinks we're dating because I come over so often."

"Oh, haha, right..." your voice is barely above a whisper, a chuckle dies in your throat as you realize you've been scrubbing an already clean pot for 5 minutes now. You sigh as you turn off the water and start drying off your hands to put the dishes back in their places.

"I don't mind," he says after a thoughtful pause. It takes a second for you to register the words. "Sorry, what?"

"I don't mind if he thinks we're dating."

You feel like the hearing comprehension part of your brain just reset. "Wait, wha-"

"I think it would be kinda nice actually... if we dated."

After a second too long of silence from you, he was the one with panic with his eyes this time. "B-but only if you want to! Shit, uh, sorry I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. Just forget I said anyth-"

He's interrupted by your arms snaking around his neck. "You're hopeless, Sol", you say as you press a light kiss to his lips. "I think it would be nice if we dated, too."

[hqbaby]

nine — whatcha reading?

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.2k content. profanity, mentions of injury, descriptions of sex, horny thoughts

Satoru is the perfect boyfriend. He’s romantic and sappy in all the best ways. He’ll show up for surprise dates and wait outside classrooms to hand you a cup of coffee. He’ll give you flowers “just because,” boxes of donuts, teddy bears, bracelets—”just because.” He’ll stay up to keep you company while you work on your papers. He’ll be there for you, anytime, anywhere, just for you.

Satoru is the perfect boyfriend. He’s also ridiculously good at lying about it.

“She’s not here.”

Satoru starts as Kimi’s voice drifts in behind him. He turns to look at her with that quintessentially perfect smile.

“What are you talking about?” he asks innocently.

Kimi just looks at him, unperturbed. “She’s not here,” she repeats. “She’s out for a week. Got injured in the middle of her last game.”

Satoru furrows his brows at her, like he has no idea what she’s talking about. “Who?”

She says your name. He pretends to be shocked by the news.

“I know you were there,” she tells him before he can fake a reaction. “Michiko went to watch her girlfriend. She saw you.”

If there’s one thing Kimi is not, it’s a fool. She’s well-aware that Satoru is in fact not over you. She’s under no illusion that he’s in love with her. The only reason why she’s in this situation in the first place is because her friends wouldn’t stop hounding her about being single for too long and Satoru asked her out at just the right time.

This isn’t a relationship built on love. It’s just a way for them both to pass the time.

Satoru scratches the back of his head in guilt. “I wasn’t hiding it or anything,” he tells her. “I just—”

She raises her hand. “It’s fine,” she says. “I don’t really care.”

She turns to walk away, but Satoru catches her shoulder. He slides an arm around her and nuzzles into her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Kimi just hums, handing him her bag as they walk away from the tennis court to the parking lot, and Satoru starts to list all the things he wants to do with her this week. She looks at him, his eyes all bright as he talks about this new coffee shop that Naoya told him about, and she wonders if he’s just pretending like her—or if he’s actually convinced that he’s selling this whole act.

That he wholeheartedly believes he’s somehow tricked her into believing this.

He turns to her when they get in the car. He tilts his head to the side and flashes her a grin.

“I love you,” he says without an ounce of hesitation.

And all at once Kimi realizes that he’s not trying to trick her.

He’s trying to trick himself.

“Can you get the remote?”

“Sure.”

“Can you charge my phone?”

“Sure.”

“Can you make popcorn?”

“Sure.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Sure—what?”

You, Nobara, and Maki burst into laughter as Sukuna gawks at you from the kitchen where he has dutifully started opening the box of popcorn packets you keep on the top shelf (supposedly to limit your access to it and prevent you from eating too much). He drops the box on the counter and proceeds to sulk.

“It’s funny,” you say like you’re trying to convince him. “You know, you don’t have to baby me. It’s just a sprain.”

He quirks a brow at you. “You say that as if you don’t like being babied.”

“Ew,” Nobara says, grimacing. “You’re such a cheesy fake couple.”

“She loves it,” Sukuna says, picking up the popcorn and reading the instructions on the back of the box. “Right, tiger?”

You toss a sock in his general direction. “I’m gonna kick you out.”

He nods, popping the packet into the microwave. “Sure, sure.”

The three of them are in your apartment against your wishes. After your game a few days ago ended with a doctor telling you that you had a sprained ankle—nothing bad, something you could get over in a week or so—they took it upon themselves to act as your primary caretakers. Sukuna has driven you practically everywhere, Nobara has all but carried you to your classes, and Maki has seen to getting you all the food, painkillers, and ice packs that your heart desires.

It’s annoying, having them hover all the time and treat you like an infant, but you have to admit that it hasn’t been all that bad. You don’t think your apartment has seemed this bright since the breakup. So it’s not all bad. Not at all.

“You have to study,” you remind Maki as she leans back into the armchair she and Nobara are sharing. “You should really head back to your dorm. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She shakes her head. “You need me.”

“I don’t.”

“How are you gonna pee?”

“Oh, I dunno, maybe I’ll do this thing called walking?”

Maki glares at you and shoves Nobara as the other girl attempts to take over more space on the chair. “You have to rest,” she tells you. “The doctor said so.”

“She actually said that it’s good for me to walk a little,” you say, frowning as your friend attempts to become one with the chair. “Please. I’d feel terrible if you started flunking your classes because of me.”

“I can study here,” she says stubbornly.

“You’ve done enough,” you say. You look at Nobara. “You need to do your laundry. You can’t keep wearing the same jeans forever.”

She sticks her tongue out at you. “You can’t make me leave, bitch.”

Sukuna walks into the room now with a bowl of popcorn. He offers some to your friends, allowing them to take handfuls, before he settles on the floor beside the couch you’re on. He holds the bowl out to give you easy access.

“I can stay with her for the night,” he tells your friends. “And she’s right. The doctor did say moving around would be good for her.”

“Thank you.” You sigh in relief at someone actually listening to you for once. You turn back to your friends. “Don’t make me beg.”

Nobara looks over at Sukuna with the same scrutinizing gaze she always looks at him with. She has to admit that she doesn’t wholly hate the guy as much anymore, not with how helpful he’s been these past few days. Despite their differences, they do have a common ground: You.

“You won’t abandon her for a booty call?” she asks.

Sukuna nods. He picks up a piece of popcorn that you dropped on the floor and sets it aside to throw out later. “I got this,” he reassures her. “You guys should go rest.”

Nobara turns to Maki. They share a look that you can only describe as uncertain but relenting. She looks back at Sukuna. “Fine.”

After much stalling, the two girls eventually find their way out of your apartment, calling their goodbyes and promising to see you the next day behind them before Sukuna waves a final time and closes the door. He leans on the wall and slides down to his knees as he exhales loudly, keeping his eyes on you.

“Why do they love you so much?” he asks. “What kind of spell have you placed on them?”

You chuckle. “I’d give my heart to either of them if they needed it.”

Sukuna rolls his head to the side and smirks. “What if I needed it?”

You pretend to mull over the question, chewing at a bit of popcorn as you do. “I dunno,” you say. “Depends on the situation.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines. “I’ve known you longer than they have.”

“Tough luck, bud,” you tell him. “It’s girl code.”

He gets up and walks over to you to flick your forehead. “Mean,” he says, smiling down at you. “Do you need anything else?”

You look over at the pool of supplies that Maki has gathered on the coffee table beside you. “A pile of cash, if you have it.”

“Sorry, I’m all out.”

“That’s too bad.”

Sukuna nods and ruffles your hair. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he tells you. Then, with a warning, “Don’t get up while I’m not here.”

“Bossy,” you say teasingly.

He wags a finger at you. “I’m serious. Be good.”

You flash him a self-satisfied grin. “Yes, daddy.”

“Ew.” He pretends to gag as he walks away. “I’m telling your mom that her daughter is a freak.”

You watch as he disappears into the bathroom. When the door closes behind him, you stretch out on the couch and reach for one of the books Nobara left you. It’s one of those trashy romance novels that she insists she only reads for entertainment but manages to go on a whole rant about when you ask her about them.

This particular book has been tame for the most part, a few chaste kisses from the lead characters, but nothing as wild as the ones Nobara often tells you about. You’ve only just started to believe that maybe it isn’t that kind of book when one character starts to undress another. Then they’re touching. Then the guy slips his hand between the girl’s legs. Then there’s a squelch, a moan, a cock.

Before you know it, you’re reading an absolutely filthy sex scene, complete with sighs, with groans, with thrusting. At some point, there’s a shift into a position you haven’t even considered humanly possible, and yet here it is, all written out for you to read as you feel your face heat up at the obscenity of it all.

You’re so engrossed in the book that you don’t realize Sukuna’s already stepped out of the bathroom and that he’s been watching you flip through pages with the most focused expression on your face for the past few minutes.

“Whatcha reading?”

You practically hurl the book across the room. “Holy shit!” you exclaim, clutching a hand to your chest. “Announce yourself next time!”

He cackles as you will your heart to stop beating so fast. “You’re too easy to startle.”

You open your mouth, about to shoot back some kind of annoyed response, but the words die in your mouth when your eyes finally focus on Sukuna.

He’s leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug smile on his lips. Nothing out of the ordinary—except for the fact that the only thing he has on is the thin towel wrapped around his waist.

From your place on the couch, you take in his entire appearance. Wet hair and bare skin. His shoulders bulge, thick muscles still slightly damp with water. The tattoos that run across his arms and chest are dark against his fair skin, the patterns curling over his naked torso. His abs are firm, protruding on his stomach like they’re made of stone. And then there’s the trail of hair tracing from his navel down to—

“Like what you see?”

You quickly pull your gaze back up to his face. You swallow.

“Fuck you,” you is all you can say before your best friend bursts into laughter again and heads into your bedroom.

You sit with yourself for a moment, trying to understand what just happened. All you can think is, Was he always this fucking hot?

Sukuna reemerges from your bedroom. He’s dressed now, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. He dries his hair and walks towards you.

You do your best to avoid his eyes.

“Wanna go to bed?” he asks, clearly oblivious to the internal crisis you’re having right now.

You toy with the hem of your shirt and clear your throat in an attempt to ground you back in reality. You can’t start thinking that your best friend is hot right now. That’s just wrong.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you say, swinging your legs off the side of the couch. You’re about to get up when Sukuna crouches down to slide his arm beneath yours. You jerk away from his touch.

He frowns, pulling back at your sudden reaction. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Does your ankle hurt?”

You don’t even get to answer before he’s kneeling down in front of you, his hand going to inspect your ankle. You swear your skin is going to melt at just how hot his touch feels.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, slightly panicked as you shift your leg out of his grasp. “I can—I can walk by myself.”

He looks up at you and you think your heart might just explode.

There he is, kneeling between your legs, looking at you with concern, unaware of the fact that there’s a steady warmth growing between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but you’re already getting up on wobbly legs and shuffling over to your bedroom. He catches up to you, because of course he does, and holds his arm out for you to hold. Exasperated, he says, “Just let me help you, tiger.”

Relenting, you grab onto him and let him lead you to the room. When you get to the door, you grab it, holding onto it for support as you use it to slowly push him out. “Okay, I can do it from here,” you tell him through the crack between the door and the frame. You offer him an easy smile. “Goodnight.”

Sukuna looks more than puzzled, but he just nods and waves. “Night.”

He watches as you firmly close the bedroom door, leaving him to stand in front of it, wondering, What the fuck just happened?

notes. reader reading smut is me like sometimes i just don’t know what to do with myself but i also can’t stop reading 😩 how are we feeling after this chapter sukuna girlies??

[irisintheafterglow]

don't even know, i'm talkin' nonsense

summary: on his way back from a patrol shift, your boss gets hit with a mystery quirk that affects his speech. you're the only one in the office who can help him (pro!bakugo x you).

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing cuz bakugo's here and he's angry, miscommunication-based comedy, idiot(s) in love, coworkers to lovers, a little bit of angst/comfort but it's just for the plot yk

note: i'm not sure where the concept of this came from; i was just listening to sabrina carpenter and was like,,,, hey i can use this. so have this! hope you like it :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Okay, go over it one more time for me. I think I’ve got it,” you reassure him, only to be met with a skeptical glare. “I’m serious; I think I understand it, even though it took forever.” You tap the whiteboard of the meeting room with the red marker in your hand, slightly tired from scribbling down as much as you could comprehend from your boss’ vague gestures. He exhales deeply, dragging a hand down his face, and gives you an impatient look. “Ready when you are."

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

“I didn’t understand a word of what you just said,” you remind him and he shoots you a withering glare that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. “And don’t try to write it, since that clearly didn’t work.” You glance at the scribbled mess of letters scratched onto a yellow notepad of paper, Bakugo’s first attempt to communicate that something was off when speech was not working.

“I fucking know that! You don’t think I can’t remember that you have no idea what I’m fucking saying?” You blink at him, desperately biting your tongue to avoid bursting out laughing. Even though Bakugo had been hit with a quirk that was creating some very entertaining moments in an otherwise bland office job, he could still make his palms crackle dangerously in warning. “Remind me to fire you when I get out of this.” You can’t control your laughter that time and you let a snort slip from your throat, wincing when his scathing eyes stare menacingly into you. 

“Sorry, I am so sorry,” you laugh quietly, attempting to subtly wipe a tear from your eye. “It’s just that…that time it was a dolphin.” You scrunch your face to avoid laughing again and try so hard that it makes your stomach hurt. Your boss continues to stand there, absolutely mortified, while you add another animal to the list of sounds that have come out of his mouth. Since he re-entered the office after a seemingly normal patrol shift, the noises of a bear, horse, mouse, tiger, monkey, a bird you couldn’t identify, and now a dolphin had exited his mouth in place of his scratchy voice. You thought it was a sneeze, the first time the bear roar had echoed through the office, but were equally perplexed when you asked him to sign a form and the only answer you received was high-pitched squeaking. 

“There’s no fucking way,” he’d muttered under his breath when you first explained to him what you thought was happening. It became all too real as his face paled when you played what your phone recorded as his “voice,” which only came out as the insistent hoots of a monkey. He was used to receiving weird looks on the street, especially when civilians realized that they were walking next to one of the top Pros in the country, but it dawned on him that they may have not heard his usual voice when he barked at them to move. “And you’re the only one in the office right now?” 

“I have no idea what you’re saying,” you inform him carefully. “But, if you’re wondering if anyone else is here to help you, there’s not.” You can only imagine what kind of colorful expletives he yelled by the unrelenting scream of bird noises that left his mouth. “And I was about to leave, so if you want me to stay and help–” 

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

“Oh, great. You’re a horse now,” you deadpan, understanding from his facial expressions alone what he was trying to communicate. “Well, if you don’t need my help, have fun explaining to the guys why you sound like you swallowed a zoo.” Your boss’ face turns bright red at the idea of showing up to dinner with his old classmates in his current state. He fires off a single, precise shot at the rubber door stop before you can exit the meeting room, effectively locking you in there with him until you sort out how to fix him. “So, you do want my help?” You turn to look at him with a knowingly innocent smirk, delighted to find him seething in place but reluctantly nodding. “What’s the magic word?” A single horse neigh echoes through the meeting room and you head to the whiteboard. “Alright, let’s get to work.”

You spent the next hour and a half playing a ridiculous game of charades with Bakugo after the alarming discovery that anything he tried to write would become illegible scribbles. You figured that it was just an effect of the Quirk itself, which seemed to give the user the ability to communicate with different animals without being understood by humans. If an eavesdropper managed to figure out what they were saying, the words would become unreadable on the page for further secrecy. Despite inconveniencing your boss and preventing you from leaving the office on time, it did serve as an important tool in the Quirk-stealing weapons trade you’d been investigating. The only issue now was to figure out where Bakugo was hit. 

“So, you’re walking down 25th.” A nod. “And make a right on Pine?” His palm hits his forehead in frustration. “No, no, not right. A left, towards 24th.” Another nod. “And that-that alley, by the coffee shop with the good strawberry milk teas?” More aggressive nodding. “That’s where you got hit? With the dart?” He slams his hand on the desk, nodding furiously. You stare at him, slightly in disbelief as you pull out a rolling chair and slump into it. “How the hell did you get pulled into that alley?” 

“Someone was screaming for help and I’m a hero so I go help them, I don’t fucking know.”

“Dolphin again,” you smirk and he rolls his eyes. “But, really. You don’t ever go that route since it’s too out of the way from where your patrol ends. What were you doing on that side of town?” He pauses, his mouth drawn into a tight line and his eyebrows drawn as he searches for an explanation in his brain. Truth be told, he had no idea what possessed him to take that route back to the office. All he could recall were snapshots, little Polaroids of information that, if he pieced them together, made a relatively cohesive explanation. He’d snapped at you unfairly, a common snap of his temper, but the hurt on your face affected him more than he was willing to admit. Something bothered him about your tense expression and it continued to bother him when he was out of the office and kicking villains into the dirt. It seemed like instinct was the only reason why he headed in the direction of the cafe with the strawberry milk he knew you liked. “Well?”  

He blinks at you once, twice, and then stands abruptly and swings open the door. You watch him through the room’s tall windows as he enters his private office briefly and exits with a cardboard drink holder. A minute later, a plastic cup with the taut seal unbroken is unceremoniously set in front of you, along with a large straw to suck up the extra strawberry bits he knew you always ordered. 

“What is this?”

“What does it look like, idiot?”

“I know it looks like a drink, but why did you get it for me?” His eyes widen with the idea that you could understand him again, but you’re quick to shut him down. “And no, I can’t understand you yet. Right now, you’re a tiger.” You half expect him to launch the other drink, something brown sugar looking, at the wall; instead, he pulls out the chair next to you and stabs his straw into the plastic, gesturing for you to do the same. You obey hesitantly, eyeing him curiously as he avoids your questioning expression. “Thank you.” He huffs, something you’ve learned is the only response he gives to gratitude. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I hurt your fucking feelings, of course I needed to.” You’re staring at him again, you and your pretty eyes and kind smile and uncanny ability to withstand even his most fiery temper tantrums. He’d discovered his feelings for you months ago and it was like a speed bump was put in front of him every time you were near, always making him trip or say something stupid. Bakugo was never known to be good with his words or his feelings, but you made him feel so warm inside that he’d be a fool to deny what it was. “I guess it’s good that you can’t understand me right now because I can vent about how stupid you make me feel.” You hum, a fond glint catching in your eye. 

“That’s a new one. You’re a chicken right now.” You laugh and he can feel his forehead get airy, like he’d chugged three sojus. What he felt was sweeter, though, without the bitter taste that always followed alcohol. To him, you were pure light. 

“Makes sense, ‘cause I’m too much of a dumbass to tell you how much I care about you. Fuckin’ idiot.” 

“You sure have a lot to say, boss. Go on and let me pretend I’m on a poultry farm.” You take another sip of your drink and close your eyes, appreciating his unexpected gift. “A much needed vacation, in my opinion.”

“There you go again with your stupid sarcasm and your stupid laugh. You’re insufferable, you know that? Always making me run around in circles because I don’t know what I’m fucking doing around you.” You raise your eyebrows melodramatically and nod at him slowly, still having no idea what he’s trying to communicate. “You’re lucky you’re pretty because if you were anyone else, I’d fucking deck them right now.” Your attention shoots to him but gives no indication that you comprehended what he just said, so he goes on. “I wanna take you out to dinner sometime, but I think I’m a little too proud to admit how much I like you. Fucking hell, you don’t know what you do to me.” 

“Hey, boss?”

“The fuck do you want?”

“The Quirk wore off,” you breathe, in complete shock from what he just unknowingly confessed to you. You’d be less surprised if he’d told you that he murdered his way up to the top three. “You started speaking normally when you said,” you pause to try to slow your racing pulse in your ears, “that I was pretty.” You sneak a look at him out of the corner of your eye to find him bright red and mirroring your wide-eyed expression. “I guess the effects wore off pretty fast?” 

“Yep,” he forces out. “Must have.”

“You really think I’m pretty?”

“It’s why I got you the fucking drink, stupid,” he mumbles, still examining the shiny wood of the table. “Didn’t want you to be sad.” An idea pops into your head and you shrug, leaning nonchalantly back into your chair. You can feel his eyes watching you, reading your body language.

“I know something that would make me less sad.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” You shrug and let the corner of your mouth turn up, brushing a stray blonde hair from his face. You didn’t think it was possible to turn such a deep shade of pink and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t amused by how miserable he looked. 

“Take me out to dinner,” you reply, chuckling at the way his nostrils flare. “Repeat all the stuff you said while you were speaking zookeeper. Beside the love confession, of course. I understood that pretty well.” 

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he mutters, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the office. “Next time I get you that strawberry milk, you’ll be there with me. Then we’ll both have that stupid quirk.” 

“Mmm, great. We can both tell each other how much we like each other while speaking dolphin.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

idk if ur asks are open but PLEASE MORE LOGAN X READER X KURT

also... belly dancer reader if u want (why? because every chubby reader is either fetishized, insecure, or it has nothing to do w the plot/character)

if you want it to be the same story go off but also if you want it to be seperate go off do what u wanna do

~For Fear That You Find Out How I'm Imagining You~

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader x Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: oral (f receiving), Kurt and Logan run they MOUTHS, implied sex and a bunch of sexual advances, Kurt is super nervy

Genre: fluff, & some smut

Summary: Logan and Kurt can't keep their eyes off of you when they see you through a window I won't deny I've got in my mind now // All the things I would do // So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out // How I'm imagining you ~ Talk by Hozier

A/N: Honey my asks are always open xoxo gossip girl lowkey all my readers are plus sized because I am and write with myself in mind but I'm happy to write one that says so explicitly!! Thank you for the request darling. This took much of my brainpower but man did I enjoy writing it

***

You walk around the room as your students practice their hip control.

"Remember everyone, belly dancing is a combination of sharp and smooth. You wanna make it easily distinguishable when you stick something versus milking it. Luckily, the music will absolutely guide you through where to hit things." You say correcting people's posture as you weave between them.

"Can you show it to us again? Like can we see you do it?" One of your students, Max, asks.

"Yeah sure!" You say walking to the front again. You show an example of the moves you've been having them practice. Caught up in your class, you don't even notice the duo whose attention you manage to capture through the large glass windows of your studio.

"Logan, look." Kurt smacks his friend on the chest.

"What? You wanna take a dance class or something?" Logan quirks an eyebrow at him.

"No! Well- do you think that's the way to talk to her?" Kurt's brows furrow.

"Talk to who man?" Logan frowns.

"That woman. The one teaching the class. She's gorgeous don't you think Logan?" Kurt says. Logan looks through the window curiously to check you out. You're wearing a cropped shirt and a pair of shorts that sit low on your wide hips. As you do your choreography at the front of the room Logan notices the cutest little pale streaks on your sides, like tiger stripes decorating your exposed middle.

"Well yeah of course she is, you wanna meet her?" Logan asks him.

"I- I couldn't. What would I say to her?" Kurt shakes his head.

"We could start with hi." Logan shrugs.

"But she's teaching a class."

"Yeah we hang out til she's done, ask the receptionist how long she'll be in the class." He says.

"Would that not be weird?" Kurt frowns.

"Maybe but how else are we going to get a chance to talk to her?" Logan drags Kurt into the dance studio and walks up to the receptionist.

"Hey quick question, how much longer is that dance thing going on? I wanted to- talk to the instructor about what other classes she offers." Kurt is impressed with how easily Logan can come up with a lie so believable.

"It'll be over in about 10 minutes." The guy at the desk answers.

"Cool. We'll just- hang out here." Logan says taking a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting room.

"I can't believe you did that." Kurt whispers.

"Well it was that or watch her like creeps for several weeks until one of us finally works up the courage to speak to her." Logan shrugs.

"Okay but we don't have a plan, what do we say to her when the time comes?"

"We don't need a plan we just say hi and tell her the truth, that we saw her and think she's gorgeous. It can't be that difficult." Logan says.

"You say that but she might hate us."

"If she hates us we leave. She also might like us but we can't know without speaking to her. Either way we should at least give it a shot so we can be sure."

"I guess that's one way to see it." Kurt frowns.

"That's the spirit. Kinda." Logan claps a hand on Kurt's shoulder. Logan turns his attention to his phone, leaving Kurt to his thoughts.

"I can't speak to her." Kurt says suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Logan frowns at him.

"I'm having thoughts that would require more hail marys than I can count in order to repent for them. I can't speak to her." He shakes his head.

"Why? You think she's a mind reader?" Logan scoffs.

"You can't prove that she isn't!"

"Okay well for the sake of not sounding like a paranoid set of weirdos, let's assume she's not because we have no evidence to support that she is. In which case, most days you won't even say a curse word you're not gonna get in there and start spouting all the dirty dirty things you want to do to her. You'll be fine." Logan says.

"I can't think of anything else." Kurt says, eyes wide.

"Fine then I'll do most of the talking all you have to do is stand there. Looks like the class is over, show time." Logan pulls Kurt through the group of people currently heading out of the building and slips into the studio where you're organizing your things while you drink your water.

"Excuse me?" You turn at the sound of someone's voice. You know it's not one of your students before you even turn around.

"Hi, can I help you gentlemen?" You ask the pair.

"Hi, I'm Logan and this is Kurt."

"Okay, and what brings you into my studio Logan and Kurt?" You tilt your head.

"We saw you through the giant window and we hope this doesn't read as badly as it could but we just had to come in here and tell you how gorgeous we think you are." Logan says.

"You came all the way in here to tell me you think I'm gorgeous?"

"Well yeah, why not." Logan shrugs.

"Hm. And uh, do you speak, Kurt, or does Logan do all the talking for the both of you?" You turn your attention to the silent one of the duo.

"I speak. Hi." Kurt says quickly.

"Are you nervous?" You ask him. Kurt glances at Logan. "Don't look at him, I asked you. I know he's not nervous."

"I'm- a little nervous. I wouldn't normally do something like this." He admits.

"Well what's different today?" You ask.

"Logan sort of dragged me in here."

"So then which of you thinks I'm gorgeous?" You cross your arms.

"Both of us." Kurt says.

"Hm. Well, thank you. Although I don't often find myself the subject of interest for a pair like this." You say grabbing your duffle bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

"First time for everything right?" Logan says.

"I guess so. Anything else you boys need or did you just want to throw a compliment at me and be on your way?"

"What's your name?" Kurt asks.

"Y/n." You smile.

"Beautiful." He practically sighs.

"Thank you."

"Would it be hubristic to ask if we could take you out?" Kurt asks.

"The both of you?" You ask and again Kurt looks at Logan who this time looks at him too as if they're discussing something unspoken.

"Yes." Kurt says.

"Well, it's- certainly a bold thing to ask which I guess is worth appreciating. Which of you has a phone I can put my number into?"

"Here." Logan hands you his phone and you quickly input your number and call yourself so you have his.

"Give us a couple of hours to plan something and we'll give you a call." Logan says.

"Well you'd better. Or I'll be pretty disappointed after all this." You wink at them and leave the studio.

"What are we gonna do?" Kurt asks.

"Plan a date, and quickly." Logan says.

The two boys call you in under an hour.

"Hello?" You say when you pick up the phone.

"Hey it's Logan." Logan says.

"And Kurt!" Kurt says.

"Hi boys." You chuckle. "Have you planned something already?" You ask.

"Yes. When are you free?" Logan asks.

"I teach dance classes Monday through Wednesday for most of the day and Saturdays too but only til 4."

"We'll pick you up on Friday 6 o'clock. If you're not comfortable with us coming to your place, we can meet you in front of the studio instead." Logan says.

"My place is fine. I'll text you my address. Where are we going?"

"You'll find out when we get there. Attire is casual."

"Very well. See you Friday." You say and hang up the phone.

Friday comes along and at 6 on the dot, you receive a text that Logan and Kurt are downstairs. You take a moment to double check your makeup and gather your belongings before leisurely making your way out of your apartment building. Outside, Kurt is standing by a car and he opens the door upon your arrival.

"Hello Kurt. You look nice this evening." You say, winking at him as you slide into the car. You're sure if his skin wasn't a deep shade of blue, he'd be blushing bright pink. You wonder if he can blush.

As you get into the car you realize it's vintage, it's got those old school bench seats from the 60s that fits 3 people in the front.

"Hi y/n." Logan says.

"Hi Logan, you look nice too." You tell him. Kurt gets into the seat next to you.

"It's good to see you again liebling." Kurt says.

"Liebling?" You ask.

"It means darling, it's German." Logan says.

"You're German?" You turn to Kurt.

"I speak it." He nods.

"That answer feels evasive." You muse.

"My history is complicated." He shrugs.

"And what about you, Logan, is your history 'complicated' too."

"We're mutants, complicated comes with the territory." Logan says.

"Well- it'll certainly make getting to know you two something interesting at least." You shrug.

"That's a cute outlook." Logan chuckles.

"I mean, when you get asked on a joint date by a pair of- friends? Boyfriends? What is your relationship to each other actually?" You ask.

"We have known each other a long time. I suppose friends is accurate." Kurt says.

"You suppose?" You probe.

"Logan likes to pretend he hates everybody so he never admits we are friends but he's a big softie in secret."

"Oh hush Wagner." Logan rolls his eyes.

"In secret? I'd say it's pretty obvious." You laugh.

"Alright that's enough you two. We're here." Logan rolls his eyes. You look out the window to see that you're at an arcade.

"An arcade?" You smirk.

"We thought it would be best to pick something generally enjoyable, since we don't know anything about you besides that you're a dancer." Kurt says as both he and Logan get out of the car.

"You made a good choice. I hope you're ready to get your asses kicked though." You say climbing out of the car after Kurt.

"Competitive are you?" Logan asks.

"You have no idea." You wink at him.

"You are so on pretty lady." Logan chuckles.

"Bring it big guy."

You spend a couple of hours at the arcade with them, every game you play with Logan is competitive and every game you play with Kurt is just for the fun of playing. Kurt's focus is mostly on getting to know you, and staring. All he wants to do is stare at you. It's a wonder he can manage to focus on anything else. 

If he were honest, he's not been able to shake those unholy thoughts he's been having since first seeing you. As you race Logan in some snowboarding simulator, he wonders what you would taste like. When you challenge Logan to skeeball, Kurt can't stop thinking about how you'd feel wrapped around him. When you and Logan play some zombie shooter game, he imagines your lips against his or teasing kisses down his neck. When you play one of those dancing games he can't keep his eyes from wandering over your curves in your lowcut crop top and your tennis skirt. His eyes catch the part of your tummy peaking between where your shirt ends and your skirt begins and all he wants to do is cover the area in kisses and love bites.

"Dude, what's up with you? You've been more quiet than usual." Logan asks Kurt quietly when you slip away to refill your drink.

"Hail Marys." Kurt says.

"You're doing hail marys?!"

"If only. I should be. How can you manage to hold a conversation with her when she looks so-" Kurt trails.

"Trust me man I am no saint but it's much easier to ignore that urge if you actually try to divert your attention. Play a few games that'll maybe help you dispel some of that pent up frustration you're feeling." Logan suggests.

"What are you two whispering about over here?" You ask.

"You know you've been kicking my ass all night, I think it's time for you to take down Kurt at a few of these." Logan shoves Kurt forward a little bit.

"Okay. Pick your poison Kurt." You say.

"Can I pick you?" He asks.

"Not in public." You wink. "I meant a game hon."

"That one." Kurt points to an air hockey table.

"Air hockey?" You quirk an eyebrow up.

"What? No good at that one?"

Oh no, I just thought you'd pick something else." You shrug walking over to the air hockey table. You wrap one hand around your paddle and Kurt can't help but wonder what it'd feel like for those same fingers to close around his dick the same way. You place your other hand on the edge of the table and lean forward with a smirk.

"Don't take this personally, but I'm gonna wipe the floor with you darling." You say.

"Can't wait to see this." Logan says placing the puck onto the table. It darts quickly back and forth as you both hit it across the table. The first point is yours and you clap your hands when it slides by Kurt's paddle. The next three points are also yours and Kurt hasn't scored once. The game only goes to 7 points so at this rate you'll completely sweep. Logan walks over to Kurt as he grabs the puck from under the table. You can't quite hear their hushed conversation but you watch them whisper for a few moments.

"Aren't you good at air hockey?" Logan asks Kurt.

"I made a mistake here I can't possibly focus with her bent forward like that I can practically see down her shirt." Kurt says.

"Yeah, my view isn't half bad either but I don't have to pay attention to the game here." Logan shrugs. "Focus man."

"Are you two done co-conspiring over there?" You ask.

"I'm giving a pep talk, you're crushing him." Logan defends.

"You asked me to." You say.

The final score ends up being 7 - 4 in your favor. You're surprised Kurt managed to score any considering how obviously distracted he's been.

"Not bad especially since you're barely here." You muse.

"What?"

"You're distracted. It's pretty obvious. Is something wrong?" You ask.

"Uh-" Kurt's eyes dart away from you.

"You're doing that again? I thought we were beyond looking at Logan for answers. Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is I'm sure I can handle it I'm a big girl I promise."

"It's nothing." Kurt shakes his head.

"Oh I find that hard to believe." You hum. "Logan, do you believe him?" You ask although your eyes stay on Kurt. He looks nervous enough when you ask Logan that you're sure Logan knows exactly what's going on with him.

"Well- if he says it's nothing." Logan trails.

"You're protecting him. Cute. But I expect the truth when I ask a question. So again, Kurt, what's on your mind?"

"I don't think I can say."

"Why not?"

"There aren't enough confessionals in the world to compensate for the thoughts occupying my mind at the moment and I- I would never want you to believe that's the only thing I want from you."

"A confessional?" You frown.

"No." Kurt says and you take a moment to dwell on his words before it clicks.

"Ooohh. Naughty boy, imagination running away with you is it now?" You ask.

"You could say that, yes."

"I appreciate the sentiment of being gentlemen but neither of you is particularly subtle enough with your staring for me not to notice. It's quite clear you're both... influenced by your third leg for lack of a better phrasing. Don't look at me like that I'm not a nun. Although if you're hell bent on the whole confessional thing I'm sure I can absolve you of your sins."

"W-what does that mean?"

"I think we've spent enough time at the arcade. Now the question is, how far do you two live from here?" You turn to Logan.

"About 15 minutes." Logan says.

"Perfect." You say grabbing Kurt by his collar and pulling him towards the exist. "Come along Logan." You throw over your shoulder and he does so with a chuckle.

The drive to Logan and/or Kurt's place is quick. 15 minutes isn't by any means long but you're almost certain Logan broke a couple traffic laws to get there in 10. He leads the way to the apartment and once inside the living room, you face the boys.

"Now, I've never gone to a confessional but tell me your sins so that the gods may forgive your transgressions." You say to Kurt.

"I don't speak because it's all I can do to control myself around you. I find myself consumed with thoughts of how you would taste, feel, sound, the faces you'd make in the heat of passion."

"We'll start with taste then." You tell him. With a hand on his shoulder you push Kurt to his knees in front of you. Kurt looks up at you in pure disbelief, hands on your thighs.

"You- want me to, you'll let me-" Kurt trails off as you caress his face.

"I've already asked you to. Isn't that what you want Kurt?"

"Yes please." He breathes out.

"Good, so go on, taste me." You say dropping your skirt and panties to the floor, exposing yourself to Kurt and Logan.

"Christ almighty." Kurt says before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue slides between your folds and you sigh at the pleasure it brings you.

"Don't worry Logan I haven't forgotten you, come kiss me." You say.

"Thought you'd never ask." He says placing a hand at the back of your throat as he kissing you fiercely. You slip one hand up his shirt dragging your fingers over his abdomen enjoying the way his muscles clench under your touch. Your other hand slides into Kurt's hair, holding him against you as he laps greedily at your cunt. Kurt wraps his lips around your cilt and sucks harshly at the bundle of nerves. The sharp waves of pleasure make your knees buckle slightly and Logan's arm winds around your waist holding you against him as he trails kisses to your throat.

"Oh fuck." You moan, tilting your head to give Logan more room to cover your neck in blooms of red. "Don't stop Kurt." You say, fingers tightening in his dark hair. You feel Kurt slip a finger into your entrance, sliding in and out so his tongue can focus on your clit. Logan's hands run under your shirt and when his fingers begin to tweak your nipples your orgasm hits you and your shaky legs are only supported by Logan and Kurt holding you.

"You two are a dangerous pair." You breathe out.

"You haven't seen danger yet gorgeous." Logan says nipping at your ear in a way that makes you shiver.

"Well, there's plenty of hours left in the evening. And Kurt's vices are not yet relieved."

"I hope you don't have much planned tomorrow liebling. We're rather- tenacious." Kurt says kissing along your abdomen as he rises to his feet.

"I can take it sweetheart. Don't you worry." You say. You feel pretty confident in your words, and Kurt and Logan are forever up for a challenge. If the walls could talk they'd have a novel of stories to tell.

***

[wooziorgans]

13:27

pairing: woozi x reader

warnings: this one is set up kind of weird,,, it goes back n forth between past n present idk I hope it reads okay. hoshi doesn’t like reader initially. vernon makes a “they hit the pentagon” joke. idk just woozi n reader being in love n saying it for the first time.

word count: 1.5k

you don’t exactly know what’s going on with jihoon, but you suspect that he’s (in some way) superhuman. something about him is weird, and your speculation is that he has two hearts; one for seventeen, one for you.

he’s been a little different lately. ever since the two of you made it official, he’s been a lot softer. he’s more lenient with letting you touch him. often times, he seeks out your attention on his own. it’s very clear that he loves you, that he’s in love with you, you just can’t quite understand how it even happened.

jihoon has so much love to give in general. while he might not be the best with his words out loud, his actions speak volumes for him. even as friends, he always just seemed to know. he knew if something was wrong, if you were upset. he knew if you had something to tell him, if certain things he did made you happy. small quirks of his that you loved more than anything would make you smile softly with this look in your eyes, and he would do them more often just to see you happy like that.

jihoon always knows, and while he’s not good at saying it, he hopes that you know that he loves you.

and you do. you know he loves you. it’s a little strange transitioning from the dynamic you two had as best friends to partners. he used to groan whenever you wanted to hold hands. now, he gets shy and the tips of his ears redden when your fingers brush his. jihoon has changed, and it’s been for the better.

it was soonyoung who had given you two the final push towards confessing to each other. “he loves you a lot, y’know?” he had said one night. it was after seventeen’s monthly meeting, and vernon had decided to rent out an arcade for the night as his chosen activity. without even a word from jihoon, everyone seemed to have the same idea.

“yes, you can bring y/n.” seungkwan was the one to verbalize the groups collective thought. and so here you were, racing against soonyoung in mario kart at the arcade.

being civil with soonyoung was still a new concept to you. it wasn’t that you and soonyoung had it out for each other, it’s just that he was very hesitant about your presence. jihoon hadn’t really mentioned you much, and then he started bringing you to hang out with the rest of seventeen, and soonyoung had his suspicions.

he just didn’t trust this new figure, one that claimed his spot as jihoon’s best friend. god forbid, jihoon confessed in a drunk phone call that he was in love with you, and soonyoung became even more suspicious of you. he didn’t know your intentions, and he had yet to see if you had jihoon’s best interest at heart for himself.

“hoon, i don’t think he likes me very much.” you had confessed, back slumped against the mirror in the practice room as soonyoung had basically been holding mingyu at gun point to run over a specific part of the dance they had just learned again. jihoon laughed softly, hand awkwardly patting you on the head.

“it’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s just that he doesn’t know you and he’s being careful. i’m sure he’ll come around soon.” and jihoon was right. all it took to absolve months of tension between you and soonyoung was giving him a little tiger plushie you had found at a pop up market the week prior.

he had gawked at it, and then smiled at you before speaking. “okay, i like you.” and he ran off, out of jihoon’s studio without another word or the chance for you to even say anything after handing it to him.

“i know he does. i-i love him too. he’s very important to me.” soonyoung laughed softly, before cursing as he got hit with a red shell.

“you’re in love with him. it’s okay.” and maybe kwon soonyoung had all of the secrets to the universe, or maybe it was just obvious. whatever was going on in this arcade, it caused you to lose the race, hands freezing on the steering wheel.

“you lost to soonyoung?” it was jihoon. of course it was. he threw his arm around your shoulder, ruffling your hair softly. the dumbstruck look on your face still didn’t change. one: because soonyoung of all people was able to tell that you were in love with jihoon. two: because you had just lost a game of mario kart to kwon soonyoung.

soonyoung had shot jihoon a look, nodding softly, and it all clicked for jihoon.

vernon had peaked around the arcade machine and muttered something that sounded a bit too much like they hit the fucking pentagon when he saw the look on both of your faces. joshua shoved him, and soonyoung found his exit as you and jihoon stared at each other.

“we’ll talk about it later, okay? just enjoy yourself here. can you do that for me? just for tonight.” jihoon had all but whispered. you listened, and let him kick your ass at guitar hero.

a week later in the privacy of his apartment you talked about it. both of you cried. both of you felt stupid for wasting so much time by dancing around each other. but a week later, you were together. officially.

you think there’s something wrong with jihoon because being in love makes him a better person. he denies this fact vehemently, but everyone else agrees with you on it. love makes him softer. he’s less stubborn, more willing to work on communication; sure he has a long way to go, but he’s less emotionally constipated than he used to be.

what gives him away is his eyes. they say the eyes are the window to the soul, and you’d have to agree. while he’s often blunt and abrasive towards those who don’t know him well, jihoon’s eyes give him away everytime. he’s not the cold caricature people draw of him. he’s sweet. jihoon is so sweet, and you tell him so often. he might roll his eyes at you when you say it, but there’s a certain amount of love in them that’s reserved just for you.

“there’s something wrong with you.” you’re having dinner with him in the studio.

jihoon just laughs. “yeah, i know. i work too much. we’ve been over this before.” he shovels rice into his mouth.

“no. not like that,” you sigh, picking at your own food. “you have so much love to give. i don’t know how you do it.” jihoon doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you as he puts down his chopsticks, urging you to continue.

“like, between me and seventeen, i don’t know how you do it. you just… you care about all of us. you’ve loved the guys long before you met me, and then i come into the picture and you still have love to give. i don’t know how you do it. and i can’t figure out why.” jihoon stares at you. it was obvious that he loved you, sure, anyone could see that. but almost six months into this relationship and he hasn’t been able to say it. neither of you have ever said the L word, even in conversation.

“i—” he starts, and you shake your head softly.

“you don’t have to say it, jihoon. it’s okay. i know you do.” but he shakes his head and clears his throat softly.

“no. i want to say it, i just don’t know how.” he shifts in his spot on the couch, fingers twitching as if they were reaching out to you.

“it doesn’t have to be anything extraordinary. sometimes just saying it on its own is enough.” you turn to him, hand finding his as you brush the back of his hand with your thumb. he doesn’t pull away or flinch. he just basks in it; in the feeling of your hand on his, and the way you look in the afternoon sunlight.

“i love you.” it’s simple, like him, but it’s enough. it’s enough because you can feel it everywhere in everything he does.

“i love you too.” you push your head against his, and he smiles. jihoon smiles so brightly that it reaches his eyes. he leans in carefully, and kisses you with the same tenderness he always has.

you know that there’s nothing wrong with jihoon. you know he has one heart, and it’s all yours.

a/n: these little time stamp thingys r supposed to be short but I got carried away whoops. also reminder that my requests are open!!! also also tysm for all the love on the last one of these that I did woahhh. glad we r all in love w jihoon amen.

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[sweet-honey-fruit]

In relation to my last post, I want to clarify some misinformation surrounding Dottore. I see a lot of it, and as someone who hyperfixates on him, I want to attempt to clear the air. Cause I feel like some of the hate towards him (and his fans) are based around misconstrued info.

Warning for spoilers!

Let me tell you the bad things he has done:

He has unlawfully experimented on living beings. Children, women, and men have been a victim of his. He even had a deal with the last Knave to send over the "rejects" from The House of The Hearth for experimentation.

Allegedly, he faked being a certified doctor as a way to experiment on patients at the Elezar hospital. Not cool man.

Also alleged, he killed a young woman on a picnic date and framed it to look like the tigers did it

Honestly he's probably done more but we don't know his entire story yet

Now that that's out of the way, let's go through the misconstrued information I often see.

"He unrightfully experimented on Scaramouche!" I know some people might not want to hear this but, those experiments, were a mutual agreement. Harbingers, as hinted at in voice lines, are not allowed to harm one another.

To back up my claim: Arlecchino has a voice line on Dottore that says "If he was not my fellow harbinger, I would have expedited their happy little reunion long ago." With context clues we know she's saying that if they weren't coworkers, she would've killed him so him and the previous Knave could dance around the flames in hell together.

With that we can conclude that the abyss experiments, the god experiment; Scaramouche agreed to it all. He wasn't forced to do any of it, because by harming another harbinger without an agreement, it would have caused dire consequences.

"He experimented on Collei!" While Collei was taken to The Doctor for "elezar treatment" it wasnt him who experimented on her. It was whoever this bitch is, as shown in the genshin comic

Blame that guy. That's the guy you wanna attack.

"Dottore killed Scaramouche's friend and caused his second betrayal!" You are correct on that, except there's a very important aspect of that that people gloss over. Dottore says "Jester, I have completed the task you gave me. Creating a gap and infiltrating Inazuma's inner workings."

He killed Scara's friend because Pierro gave him that task.

Kinda insane that he followed it up with "heh, what fun it was" but that's just a little quirk of his /j

All in all, he is a menace to society, I'm aware of that. People are allowed to hate him, just please hate him for the right and factual reasons!

Collei and Scaramouche fans (like to clarify: not all) love to infiltrate my inbox and go on rants about what Dottore did to them, yet most of it is incorrect (and in some cases, hypocritical). At least come at me with correct information.

He's a harbinger who has done bad things. If you have a favorite harbinger, there's a 100% chance that they also have done something horrible. They're harbingers, they've all done some horrid shit, that's basically their job. But they're also fictional horrid shit, so let's all hold hands and love our fictional criminals as a family.

[l-love-writing]

Atsushi, Chuuya, Dazai and Odasaku meet someone who can turn into a crow. Headcanon

*Atsushi met this friend at the orphanage when he was very young. He found a wounded crow in the garden of the orphanage.

*Because Atsushi was a boy with a heart of gold, he took the crow and started healing its wing. Meanwhile, he realizes that crow understands what he says.

* Since he is a child, he does not care much and believes that crows are very intelligent.

*After the crow recovers, he leaves immediately, but begins to visit Atsushi from time to time.

*Later, his crow friend realizes that he also has the ability to turn into a tiger. In this way, his crow friend trusts him enough to show his human form.

*Years later, after Atsushi is kicked out of the orphanage, Atsushi's friend follows him. Because the crow had nothing else to do.

*Since Atsushi and his friend have similar abilities, he gets along quite well with his friend.

*In fact, Chuuya accidentally came across a crow while using his gravity ability. And of course, a human standing in the air was quite interesting for the crow.

*The crow followed him for hours. Even though Chuuya noticed this and tried to get rid of the crow, he could not escape from the bird's eye view.

*Then he stopped running away from the crow and let everything happen.The crow came to him and flew around him and then went away, chirping with his strange voice.

*Later, Chuuya was saved from the crow, but one day later, suddenly someone disturbed him and asked to be his friend.

*Chuuya refused at first, but no one can handle a crow's stubbornness. In this way, Chuuya becomes friends with this person.

*After talking for a while, he realized that they actually had a lot in common. That's why Chuuya felt like he found his new best friend.

*Within a few days, Chuuya realizes that this person is the crow that followed him days ago. Because his new friend wasn't trying to hide anything.

*At least things aren't bad enough for the two of them to fight.

*For Dazai, the situation is very different. That shiny jewel or bead on Dazai's clothing caught the crow's attention. The crow quickly flew towards Dazai to grab this shiny thing.

*When Dazai noticed the crow attacking towards him, he immediately retreated. In this way, the crow missed Dazai and the crow accidentally hit something.

*When Dazai saw this incident, he instantly laughed and made fun of it. However, this made the crow angry and it started attacking him.

*When the crow touched him to attack, he turned into a human thanks to Dazai's ability. Dazai then started to mock more.

*Even though their relationship started off badly, they somehow managed to meet and become friends.

*Odasaku met his friend in a very normal way. While sitting at a bar and drinking a drink, he started talking to the person next to him.

*The conversation with the person next to him was quite entertaining and interesting. He was exactly the kind of person Odasaku would love to chat with. So Odasaku continued chatting for minutes.

*Odasaku's soothing conversation with the person next to him was normal until the drinks arrived. After the drinks arrived, the person next to him used his ability to turn into a crow and started drinking the drink in his crow form.

* It was a bit of an awkward incident, but Odasaku said, "it's okay if he feels comfortable like that."

*Later, Odasaku befriended this person without caring about his quirks. Sometimes they met in bars or had short conversations while walking on the street.

*Odasaku usually tries not to talk about turning into a crow.

(Thank you to everyone who reads. I actually tried to make it gender neutral but it's hard for me. I have no idea how to do it, but thanks to those who read it anyway.)

[taintedcigs]

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER ONE: BEST OF TIMES, THE WORST OF CRIMES

next chapter →

✦ summary: in which you return to hawkins to attend your best friend nancy's wedding, facing the problems you left behind, and the one person you abandoned; eddie munson. (wc: 9.4k+)

✦ warnings — ANGSTANGSTANGST, pining and slowburn, reuniting <33, strong language!, mentions of alc*hol and drg use and a toxic relationship, reader is sad and feels guilty. kinda mean eddie but not rlly.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — okay so its finally HERE. im SOOO EXCITED for u guys to read it!! i have tried to proof-read this a lot but my mind is fuzzy so ignore all mistakes!! if u need some stuff to listen to while reading this long ass chapter or the songs mentioned in it u can check out the playlist !! hope yall enjoy it mwah &lt;3

series masterlist | series playlist

I'm a cold heartbreaker Fit to burn and I'll rip your heart in two

The sound coming from your slightly jammed stereo while the rain gently pattered on the roof of your car could’ve been heavenly. 

If only it weren’t the roads of Hawkins that you were travelling in. Five years that had passed were seemingly nothing when you recognized the familiar streets and the infamous forest, heart skipping a beat when you finally arrived on Maple Street. 

The cars parked just outside of the Wheeler House were enough to give you anxiety, especially when your eyes spotted that van. His van. Why did he still have it? Wasn’t he a rich rock star by now? There was an unnecessary bitter taste in your throat, and your gaze was stuck on the van now, gulping physically as you tried to ignore those guilty feelings bubbling up inside of you. Mind quick to revel in all those memories you had with him in that stupid vehicle.

5 YEARS AGO.

“Hurry!” You whisper-yelled, still looking around, Eddie was right behind you, his tongue darting out of his mouth as it always did when he was focused, running like hell as his calloused hands harshly gripped the tequila bottle that you two had just stolen.

The angry voice of the shop’s owner had long disappeared by now, but you could never be too careful. When you finally got close to his van, you stopped Eddie immediately. “Behind you!” You yelled in a fake-worried voice, causing Eddie to start sprinting forward toward the car.

When he noticed you not following and breaking into laughter, his worried face eased as he realized your little prank, giving you a humorless laugh as he started sprinting towards you.

You squealed when he grabbed you by your waist, lifting you off in one swift motion, spinning you around as your giggles filled the space.

Eddie’s grin faltered quickly. “I hate you,” He mocked in a serious tone.

 “I’m sorry, but I just love that worried look on your face. And, oh god, that sprint! You know what you should be?” You asked, a smirk forming on your lips as you waited for him to fall into your trap.

Eddie sighed exhaustedly, a grin plastered on his face, he put you down.

You squealed happily as he did so, “A... Tiger!” You mimicked pompoms with your hands as you tried to re-do your cheer routine, chanting after Eddie.

He playfully nudged your shoulders, “Oh, Pinky... You are on a roll today, huh?” He asked, the nickname rolled off his tongue so sweetly. It was a stupid fucking name, sure, but you loved it. It somehow stuck, the entire town calling you Pinky ever since you pronounced ‘Pinky Promise’ wrong once and your parents funnily referred to you by it.

You nodded, giggling, stealing the bottle from his hands, and chugging a sip. “This was a great idea.” You hummed, pointing to the bottle, the bitter taste burning your throat, almost coughing with how big of a chug you took.

He quirked his brows, flying over to your side as he opened your car door.

“Let’s go, thief.” He tilted his head, hands gesturing forward animatedly.

“What a gentleman!” You mocked dramatically, sliding into the messy van easily as Eddie heaved a sigh.

He sprinted toward the other door, cursing as he struggled to open the rusty door, eyes bulging out of his head almost as he checked to make sure the coast was clear. “You know…” He started with a muffled sigh as he hopped into the driver’s seat. 

“Everyone thought I would be a bad influence on you… or that you would at least be a good influence on me, but ever since I met you, all we have done is illegal shit.” His voice was mocking. “I think it’s time you give up that good girl cheerleader title, princess. Because forcing your best friend to steal booze is definitely not good girl material.” 

Throwing your hands up in defense, you turned to him. “And they still think you are the devil worshipper!” You added, a hearty laugh escaping from your slurry lips.

Eddie sighed when he couldn’t turn the ignition properly, his van—Aurora, which Eddie of course named himself—was too old now.

“Oh, come on, baby,” He whispered when his fingers roughly tried to turn the key further, earning a hesitant cough from his precious Aurora. “Pleasepleaseplease…” He whispered, engine roaring back to life now with his second try. “There you go, honey, thank you!” He exclaimed as he threw his hands up in the air, mouth quick to press up against the wheel, giving Aurora a thousand kisses, causing you to squint your eyes.

“You are… pathetic,” You scoffed with a shake of your head, a teasing smirk playing at your lips.

“Oh, we’ll see who’s pathetic,” He disagreed dramatically. His eyes diverted from the road as he sneakily grabbed your bag, causing you to protest quickly. “Hey!” He didn’t mind your tug on his bicep when he dug his whole arm into your bag, fiddling as he tried to find your cassette tape under all the mess.

“There we go,” He hummed when he animatedly pulled it toward your sight. ‘BEST MIXTAPE’ The tape dramatically read when Eddie snatched it out of your view stuffing it away from you. 

“If you make fun of Aurora, you lose your music privileges.” He hummed all-knowingly, a troublesome look overtaking his features as he focused back on the road. Your gaze squinted, barely able to see his plump lips that were now quipped into a grin.

“Really…” You hummed, hiding behind the way your lips twitched mischievously.

Eddie’s curiosity was quick to perk up; you not whining ‘Eds!!’ as you elbowed him and huffed when you called him a jerk meant only one thing.

You had some really good new music.

“You sure about that… Munson?” You quirked a brow, grin growing wider as you seized your bag from his hands, earning a groan from Eddie.

“What have you got up your sleeve, sweetheart?” He asked, stealing a quick glance at one of your pretty smiles before he turned his attention to the road.

“Something really good…” You hummed, hand diving into your bag again before you reclined in your seat, throwing him a knowing look.

“Jesus…” He whined. “What d’ya want?” He implored, his gaze squinting.

You wanted to keep the game going, tease him further, and get him to his breaking point. But the way his eye twitched with curiosity, tongue licking his lips with need made you want to tell him everything, let him in on your little surprise.

“Hmm… Music privileges…” 

“And?” He asked with a huff, knowing that’s not all you wanted.

“And, I’m gonna pick the place where we drink this cutie!” You exclaimed, hand pointing toward the tequila bottle you had a firm grip on.

He threw you a glare; it wasn’t a hard glare, you knew it and he knew it, he did it just to tease you, and that’s exactly what had you so giddy about him. “Fine…” He whined, teasing further. “Whatcha got?”

You clapped animatedly, pulling out the cassette with a huge grin. The Cure’s ‘The Head on The Door’ album was swaying in your hands as Eddie groaned.

You pouted. “You got me all excited for The Cure?” He pinched his brows together, causing you to gasp dramatically, huffing.

“What’s wrong with The Cure? You love them!” You protested, glaring at him.

“You love The Cure, sweetheart.” He grinned, earning a scoff from you as your hands were quick to wrap around your chest annoyedly.

“Just for that, you won’t get to know what the second album is. And it really was a good one.” You shrugged, putting the bag in front of your legs, just out of Eddie’s reach.

“Oh, come on!” He sighed, eyeing you with squinted eyes. 

“I was joking! I love The Cure.” He murmured, but you shrugged again, eyes falling toward the window as you started giving him the silent treatment playfully.

“Really?” He understood your play. “Jesus H. Christ.” He huffed, attention turning toward you.

“Just check the glove compartment.” You ignored him again.

“Pinky.” He called out. “Do it.” His eyes pointed toward it, causing you to sigh as you opened it unenthusiastically.

A bunch of cassette tapes fell toward your lap, you squealed at the contact. “Eddie!” You exclaimed with a chuckle.

Three Imaginary Boys, Seventeen Seconds, Faith, Pornography and The Top was sprawled across your lap, and your eyes widened.

The Cure’s discography. Just sitting in his glove compartment.

You turned to him with an affectionate gaze, hands covering your mouth as you stood speechless.

“Wh-what are these?” You were a stuttering mess. Did he really do all of this for you?

“Uh–I’m pretty sure those are albums, princess,” He mocked you in a playful tone as you tilted your head, tongue sticking out in a childish manner.

His smile grew wider before he shook his head. “Started collecting those–uh… after that day–uhh, you remember that?” His gaze avoided yours. 

“We–uh almost got kicked out of The Hideout?” He muttered with a sly grin, eyes focused on the road just so you wouldn’t notice the slight flush on his cheeks.

“Eds–” You attempted to speak, but he didn’t let you. “You remember that day? You asked me what my favorite band was?” You nodded furiously, Eddie didn’t even have to take another glance at you to know you had a warm smile on your face, sensing your head bobbing up and down excitedly. 

“Y-you know, before they tried to kick us out?” You gave him a slight giggle, humming.

“I told you mine was Dio. And you told me yours was The Cure?” A dizzying grin was stuck on your face, cheeks stretching with pain from how big it was. And Eddie knew if he looked, even for a split second, he’d fall for you all over again. He knew that he couldn’t contain those feelings inside of him anymore. So he avoided it. He avoided that one glance thrown your way because he didn’t want to lose you.

You bowed your head to say ‘yes’ again, words didn’t dare come out of your grinning lips. You didn’t know what to do; you wanted to hug him, feel his arms wrapped around you. You wanted to kiss his flushed cheeks and his apparent dimple, which you couldn’t get enough of.

The silence hanging in the air was killing you. “I remember.” You muttered, almost shyly, like the two of you weren’t teasing the hell out of each other mere seconds ago. 

His brows furrowed when you leaned over your seat again, digging something from your bag as you hid it behind you.

“That is why…” You smiled, hands shaking as you hid the cassette behind your back. “I got you this!” You exclaimed, swinging the tape in front of his bulging eyes.

His eyes squinted before the realisation set in. You remembered that day. Just like he did. You remembered his favorite band. Just like he did yours.

He didn’t want to get his hopes up, you were just being friendly, right? You didn’t do this in the same loving, caring way he did. You did this as a friend. You were a great friend. And he was an asshole for harboring these feelings for his best friend.

He couldn’t help the squeak that escaped his plump lips. The car came to a halt quicker than he intended it to. Swinging you over your seat, making you squeal with him.

“Jesus, Eddie!” You giggled, turning to face him and seeing his speechless face as he admired you. You could feel your cheeks heat up, and it was embarrassing.

Why did he have to look at you like that?

Why did he have to complicate things for you?

You wouldn’t be good enough for him.

And there was Billy. Billy. Billy. Billy—

Your inner thoughts were interrupted by his childlike screams as he seized the Sacred Heart album by Dio from your hands.

He didn’t hesitate—like you did—to engulf you in a hug. Hands securely resting on your lower back, and you could feel your breath hitch.

You would spend all of your work pay checks on stupid damn records if it meant you could see him like this again, and you’d happily starve if it meant you’d have him hug you like this again. But that’s what friends did, right? 

“Oh my god.” His eyes widened, tone much calmer before his excitement rose up again. 

“Oh my fucking god, Pinky!” He yelled in delight again, taking you by surprise when his hands were holding your shoulder in excitement. 

“Y-you… shit- you got this for me?” He asked with a sympathetic gaze.

You nodded quickly. “Of course!” 

“Why’d you think we had to steal that bottle?” You winked teasingly, causing him to snort.

“Pinky, you’re the fucking best.” He muttered into your hair, a grin overtaking your features when he held your face in his hands, honey-glazed eyes boring into yours.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou.” His fast-paced mantra left you giggling again before he pressed a small, appreciative smooch on your forehead.

He was just being friendly, you thought. There was no way he could want something more. You were beyond fucked up for that, and Billy was the only proof you needed.

He sighed contently when he relaxed back into his seat. “Wherever you want to go, princess, let me know.” He winked with a childish smile.

The two cassettes were replayed over and over again before the two of you made your way to your ‘special destination’.

Dragging Eddie through the woods while he whined earned several giggles from you. He chugged the bottle in his hands with a sour face.

“How much longer do we have to fuckin’ walk?” He complained, his feet dragging on to exaggerate.  

“We’re almost there, you dork.” You squinted your eyes at another frustrated groan escaped his lips. Laughter erupting from your stomach teasingly before you handed him the stolen bottle, Eddie chugged quickly, and his face soured, “How did you even find this place anyway?” He asked.

“Skull Rock?” You asked, and he nodded. “Wait, you don’t know about Skull Rock?” You questioned, eyes widening, causing Eddie to roll his. “C'mon, Pinky, not all of us hang out with the prissy popular kids.”

You gasped and playfully but still harshly hit his chest, “Ow!” He flinched. “Shit, are all cheerleaders as heavy-handed as you?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Hey, I barely touched you!” You smirked while he faked getting hurt, rubbing his chest mockingly.

“Skull Rock is known as the make-out spot of Hawkins.” You enunciated dramatically as Eddie ooh-ed, “Thanks to, ‘King Steve’”, you mocked, mimicking air quotes.

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Wait… wait,” His walking came to a halt when he tried to process that information. “Y-you and Steve?” He asked, dumbfounded, a slight overtone of jealousy was apparent in his tone, mixed with his own insecurities, and your face was quick to sour. “God, no!” You scrunched your nose; you loved Steve, but not in that way, never in that way.

“Who do you think taught him this place?” You tilted your brows. 

“I came here the first time my parents left with a tiny note stuck on the fridge.” You shrugged. You were used to your parents always leaving you without any notice other than a scribbled note that told you that they’d be gone for a while. And you never knew if it would be for days or for months. Now that they've been gone for the last four months, you assumed it was permanent this time, and even though you never admitted to it, it fucking hurt. Coming here has been your only escape lately. And all you wanted to do was share it with Eddie, have him in your comfort zone. 

Eddie’s face soured; you could see that red tint on his cheeks, almost like he was furious. And he was, because he understood. He understood what it was like to have deadbeat parents who were fucking useless, he understood the pain it brought and how it could make a person feel so fucking unwanted. But at least he had Wayne. You didn’t have anyone. The closest thing to you had that resembled a family were your friends and the Wheelers—and even that wasn’t enough to give him some peace of mind. 

“When Steve had his first heartbreak, I brought him here, but that fucker turned this place into an orgy party,” You continued, a simple chuckle escaping your lips. 

“And after that, people started coming here all the time for their little make-out sesh.” Your hands stretched forward to make a point, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Even Billy took me here one time,” You murmured the Billy part, wanting to avoid the talk with Eddie because you knew neither of them liked each other, and you rarely, if ever, spoke about him with Eddie, while Billy always announced his distaste for Eddie, murmuring about how it was obvious that the “freak” just wanted to get in your pants.

“You know, Billy is one of those people who think I’m a bad influence on you because I’m a “freak” and “devil worshipper,” right, sweetheart?” You avoided his gaze.

You didn’t want to talk about Billy, at least not with Eddie, and not now. You just wanted one thing to yourself without him being involved, which seemed impossible.

You forced a smile. “Well, Billy is…” an asshole, an idiot, and sometimes a fucking narcissist, you wished to say, but you didn’t want to drag Eddie into your relationship problems. Billy was still your boyfriend, and in all honesty, your on and off relationship was something that no one actually understood.

Nancy gave Billy a glare each time he came around, Steve and Robin constantly reminded you how awful he was. But it didn’t matter, because you couldn’t let him go, each time he fucked you up in a different way, you went back to him.

You took him back because you didn’t know any better, you accepted him because love was supposed to be like this, wasn’t it? It was supposed to be a challenge, it was supposed to be fucking hard. It was supposed to be something to fight for.

But it was so…exhausting. Trying to get him to understand you, trying to get him to care, trying not to make him mad—walking on egg-shells each time you were around him.

And everything was so fucking different with Eddie; things were so uncomplicated with him and so fucking fun. You didn’t want to admit that you wanted that… that you wanted him. 

Because he was easy—and in the best possible way. He was so easy to love. He was safe and he made you feel safe. When he caressed your back, when he opened a door for you, when he let you walk in front of him with his hand ghosting over your lower back, when you asked him to hold your bag and he swung it over his shoulder. He laughed at things easily, he made you laugh easily. He listened intently, when you just wanted to open up for a bit, he was quiet; when you needed someone to talk to, he gave you all the advice in the world.

And more than anything, Eddie cared. He cared about you, in a way you had never been cared for before.

He brought a side out of you that you never knew existed; relaxed. He was gentle with you, he knew how to joke around, and he didn’t have any problems being who he was. He was open and nice; he didn’t get angry at everything, and it was just… nice to be around him.

You shook your head at your thoughts, “Billy is Billy.” You concluded, eyes fixed on the ground. Eddie just gave you a small smile, as if he understood your train of thought. His hands caressed your back reassuringly in a way that was telling you that it was okay to think what you were thinking, and it brought an imminent smile to your face, knowing that he would always be there for you.

You remembered that night clearly when the two of you drank an entire bottle of booze you stole, and smoked Eddie’s stash, bodies lazily laying next to each other, Skull Rock had the best view, stars filled the empty sky, and a crescent moon appeared between them.

It was relaxing, lying with Eddie, high out of your mind.

“There’s no way you think Honeycomb Cereal is the best breakfast food.” You shook your head as Eddie scoffed.

“I do! It counts as breakfast, and you can also eat it as a snack on its own, what more do you need?” He raised his brows, taking a puff from the joint sitting between his index fingers.

“Uh? I don’t know, waffles? Eggs and bacon? Actual good cereal?” You mocked, causing Eddie to nudge your side lightly.

“Oh, and which cereal does the princess think is the best?”

“Cinnamon Toast Crunch, of course,” You said proudly.

“You are disgusting.” Eddie scrunched his face. You shrugged with a grin on your face as you snatched the joint from his fingers, reaching for the lighter in his hand. And before you could even light the blunt sitting in your fingers, the carved lighter caught your attention.

It was a silver Zippo lighter with a dragon print and had scratches all over it. You scrunched your brows as you looked up at Eddie and said, “What the hell is this?” You held the lighter up, and Eddie seized it from your hands.

“A lighter?” He replied smugly, causing you to huff, “Where did you even get it?” Your curiosity peaked.

“Bummed it off a guy at the bar last night, pretty fuckin’ cool, huh?” He asked, getting excited as he showed you the print, the carving of the dragon was so detailed that you could basically count its scales.

“Stealing is considered cool?” You murmured, causing Eddie to give you a huff as he placed the lighter on the rock between the two of you, allowing you to get a more detailed look. 

“Really, Pinky?” He almost snorted. “How about you answer that one, because the tequila bottle you’re holding wasn’t paid for... If I remember correctly,” He mocked a thinking face, dimples ever-so apparent as he tried to contain his grin.

“I–We!” You expressed in a higher tone, “Didn’t steal that bottle because it was cool, doofus. We! did it because we’re poor.” You enunciated the ‘us’ part again before nudging his rib slightly and prodding, earning a “Hey!” from Eddie, who was ticklish. 

“Anyway.” You giggled, handing the lighter back to him with a grin on your face, “Would’ve been cooler if it was pink.” Eddie gave you a weird look.

“What?” You implored, shrugging carelessly.

“Pinky liking pink… what a surprise, huh?” He said sarcastically, causing you to groan.

“Don’t be such a guy, Munson,” You warned, you liked pink, but both of you knew that wasn’t why the nickname stuck. And it didn’t matter what it truly meant because you liked it. You liked that it was the only thing you had from them that didn’t leave—something that was truly yours, something that would never abandon you. 

“Oh, you know that’s not why, you doofus.” You rolled your eyes. “Have you ever seen a pink dragon?” You gushed, and Eddie shook his head. 

“See! Case closed.” You grinned.

“Pink dragons are cool,” You said with a determined face, and Eddie couldn’t help the grin that was plastered onto his face now.

You spent the rest of the night giggling like a bunch of kids over nothing, the chilling breeze of the Hawkins nights providing comfort to you that you had never felt before.

When your shivers hadn’t stopped, you heard Eddie sighing, “Okay, you are getting my jacket,” He insisted, annoyed, because you had refused his offer for a jacket a million times just because you didn’t want him to be cold.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head before you could open your mouth to refuse. Calloused hands quick to securely wrap his infamous black leather jacket around you. You looked up at him, a sympathetic gaze apparent, as you tried to refuse, tried to insist that he would get cold, but he didn’t accept it. “Better I freeze off than you.”

Your heart fluttered before it was apparent on your face, lips twitching into a warm, sickly sweet smile as you accepted, “Thank you,” You murmured, almost shyly. The jacket fell comfortably on your shoulders, a whiff of weed, beer and the old leather smell engulfed you, warmth taking over your entire body.

You liked the feeling of wearing something that was his. In fact, you liked it too much. Something about Eddie always provided some sort of security for you. He made you feel comfortable in your skin, like he was meant to be there for you, like he was supposed to help you, even when you repeatedly told him you didn’t need it. You cleared your throat to gather your thoughts, taking the joint in his hands as your head slowly but comfortably fell on his shoulders.

Taking a puff from it, you looked over at Eddie. “As soon as I graduate, I’m leaving this place.” You could feel his head turn toward you, his gaze almost burning its way through your hair. 

“Eight months, eight fucking months left.” Your tone was the most serious he had heard that night, and he couldn’t help but have a baffling look on his face. You had mentioned something about ‘leaving this hellhole’ before, but he never knew how serious you were, at least until now.

He shook his head quickly to gather his thoughts. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it and scare you away, so he shrugged. “Fine, but you can’t abandon me, I’m coming with you.” His tone was nonchalant, and it brought a smile to your face.

“I would never leave without you.”

NOW.

You shook your head at the memories, at least you had achieved one of those things. You got out of the hellhole that was Hawkins as soon as you graduated, being selfish enough to not care about the ones you had left behind, but you needed to do whatever you could to survive, and you shouldn’t have to apologize for it, right?

Right?

It’s what you kept repeating to yourself, but there was one part of you that always felt guilty for leaving without a goodbye, cutting off all contact. And that guilt returned with Nancy’s invitation; you knew you couldn’t hold off on her wedding, no matter how much you wanted to escape the town that caused you agony.

Nancy was your best friend when you were living in Hawkins, she was there with you through everything, and the Wheelers were there when your parents abandoned you, inviting you to their home as if it were nothing. 

You've seen Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin several times in the last couple of years. Especially after Nancy told them the exact reason why you left, they understood and welcomed you. 

That’s what you loved about them; even though you spent some time apart, they would always be your best friend. And that is exactly why Nancy picked you as her maid of honor—because she knew you’d always be there. She trusted you with her whole life, and so did you. The two of you knew things about each other that no one else did. 

And I'll leave you lyin' on the bed I'll be out the door before you wake

You huffed when you turned the stereo off, the lyrics giving you a stupid familiar  feeling, like it was written about you and Eddie. Like Axl and Izzy were hiding somewhere in the California apartment you and Eddie stayed in right after you left, as if they witnessed you leaving him there. 

The song became an afterthought when you realized you actually had to go in now or one of Wheeler’s snobby neighbors would surely call the cops on you for suspiciously watching the house while hiding in your car like a coward.

Eddie was already in there.

What if everyone else was there too? 

Would they cuss you out and tell you to fuck off? 

You surely deserved it.

You cursed yourself when you exited the car, feet dragging you all the way to the door, knowing that you needed to do this. Inhaling a deep breath, you rang the bell, even the tune sounded the same, and the guilt inside of you started rising up again.

“Will you get that?” Nancy’s screaming voice could be barely heard from your side of the door, and your eyes immediately pressed shut together.

Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don’t let it be Eddie. Please don't let it be Eddie—

When the door swung open, the eyes that met yours blinked quickly, not knowing whether they were imagining it or not.

Your blinking eyes were quick to open widely as well, and a sigh of relief left your chest.

It wasn’t Eddie.

But it still wasn’t any better. Your face was quick to feel hot as your gaze met hers, and you felt ashamed. Not knowing what to say, you murmured a simple “Hey.”

Max stood in front of you with an unreadable expression, and you were afraid. For the first time, you were afraid of her.

Was she going to slam the door in your face? Was she just going to ignore you? 

You bit your lip out of nervousness at the silence, and just as you were about to open your mouth again, Max squealed—which you had never, ever heard her do before—as she wrapped her arms around you in a jump-like hug.

Your breath got caught in your lungs, and a hearty giggle escaped your plump lips as you embraced it, melting into the hug. 

“I can’t believe it.” She squealed, pulling away from the hug to see your face fully again, her eyes almost prickling with tears.

Jesus. She had grown up so fast.

Her face that fell around your shoulders felt weird now that she was so much taller and much closer to you in height. She looked different, and you couldn’t decide whether to feel ashamed or guilty about it.

Your eyes widened, almost in shock, you never expected to be perceived in any way positively, especially by Max. And she could sense that shock on your face, with the way your mouth visibly stood agape. 

“You-uh… you’re not mad?” You implored, eyes almost widening with the need to know. 

Her eyes softened, and the sorrows in your heart were quick to dissipate with it, she shook her head lightly, almost in an all-knowing way.  “Uhm- I-I know what happened.” She almost whispered, gaze falling toward the kitchen, implying that Nancy had already babbled about the day you left. 

Damn you, Nancy Wheeler. 

Your head popped up toward the kitchen, where Nancy was, as if you were going to run up to her, your cheeks fluttered with embarrassment, you never wanted Max to find out. 

“Don’t… please don’t be mad at her.” She turned your attention back to her with a gentle touch on your arm, easing your tense body with just one touch. 

“If she didn’t tell me what happened… I don’t think I’d even talk to you, Pinky.” She admitted shyly, your gaze on her still widening. 

“Wh-what exactly did she tell you?” You asked, you weren’t going to get mad at Nancy, you knew she didn’t have any malicious intentions, you just never wanted Max to know what her step-brother did. At least not until she was much older. Your brain almost short-circuited as you looked at her once again. She was already much older; you knew Nancy made the right call.

“Not much!” Max blurted quickly, maybe to ease your worries; maybe it was the truth. 

“Just that- uh-that… Billy did something horrible, and that you and Eddie left and then uh… the two of you went to.. uh—Chicago?” She stuttered, head hanging low before she looked back at you, trying to read your expressions.

“California,” You muttered.  “Uh-Los Angeles, to be exact.” You breathed, correcting her. Did she know more? Did she also know that you left Eddie after that, too? Did she know that you had been carrying the guilt of leaving Eddie, her and those four little idiots too? The only ones you didn’t have any contact with in the last five years?

“Is that… is that where you are now?” Her brows pinched together; she knew where you were—New York, Nancy had told her. But she just wanted to hear more from you, and you could sense it. 

You shook your head. “New York.” Your lips pursed together, and she gave you a slight nod as if to ask if there was anything else going on in your life, you caught it immediately. “My cousin helped me get this apartment, and she, uh, has this record shop there.” Max gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“And, uh, it has like a tattoo shop behind it—records by day and tattoos by night.” You revealed more, awkwardly, your stupid joke made you want to hit your head against the perfectly white marbled walls of the Wheeler’s. “I’m actually training to become a tattoo artist now,” You said with your gaze stuck on how much she had grown now, almost feeling embarrassed for some reason before Max’s gasp turned your attention back to her.

“No way.”

“Dude, you’re still so fucking cool.” She nudged your shoulder, and your face instantly lit up. All the worries in your head disappeared, giddiness replacing it when you realized Max still saw you as her cool older sister.

“You think so?” You teased, giving her a light-hearted chuckle, “Uh… yeah? Dude, you work at a record store that has a tattoo shop in the back… you invented cool at this point.” She encouraged, surprise and fascination washing over her face.

“If Mad Max says so” You teased, muffling her hair and earning whines from her. 

And you hated that it took you back to five years ago. Every stupid fucking thing you saw or did in this town made you take a trip down memory lane, but it was the worst with Max, because almost every memory with her had your head wandering off to the certain redhead’s step-brother. A chill ran down your spine at the idea of him even being back in town. But there was no fucking way, right? 

You had heard from Nancy that the Mayfield-Hargrove’s had moved out and returned to California by the time Max started going to college—somewhere far away from them. However, she and the other kids always returned to Hawkins in the summer. You assumed she wanted to reunite with her friends and that she was trying to avoid the step-fuckers—a nickname Max herself gave both Billy and Neil Hargrove.

“He-uh… He doesn’t know about the wedding, right? Or he isn’t… he isn’t back in town? Is he?” You stuttered eerily; you knew Nancy would never invite him, but you still wanted to make sure that he didn’t know about it or that he wouldn’t know you were back in town.

“No—god, no.” Max shook her head quickly. “He’s in California with the ‘parents’.” She scoffed. “He has no fucking clue.” She added.

And you nodded simply; one of your worries was now at ease.

“What about…” You trailed off, pretending to sound nonchalant about wanting to ask about Eddie, you were anything but as you fiddled with your fingers.

Max picked up on it immediately. “Eddie?” she asked almost smugly, making you nod quickly—too quickly to appear nonchalant.

“Oh!” She grinned, making your cheeks feel hot.

Damn it. How did he still have this effect on you without even being present?

“He came like an hour ago. The last I saw him he was arguing with Dustin about their nerdy game.” She rolled her eyes slightly. 

“Oh, uhm, that’s—that’s good…” You said unsurely, you knew he was here, because of his stupid van that was parked outside just behind your car, but what the fuck were you even going to do when you did eventually see him. 

Would you pretend like nothing happened?

Would he pretend like nothing happened?

How the fuck were you supposed to do that when your feelings for him were still all over the place? You already felt dumb for not managing to get over him in the last five years, it just seemed impossible considering how things were left off.

You cleared your throat, turning your attention to Max. You didn’t need Eddie to cloud your mind right now, the guilt of abandoning Max still filled your stomach.

“Max…” You caught her attention softly, and almost as if she knew you were going to bring up the subject, a pout overtook her features. 

“I—I’m sorry…” You started, voice shaky. “I fucked up, I should have let you know... A message, a call, a note… Jesus—anything.” Your voice was meek, causing you to gulp.

“I should have done something, I—Fuck… I don’t know what to say, just that I’m really sorry.” You were stumbling over your own words when your vision got blurry, eyes glossy as you looked up at her.

“Pinky…” She muttered comfortingly, you didn’t expect this kindness from her that you thought you were unworthy of. You had left her without anything, and she still greeted you with open arms.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe people could forgive you, maybe they could forget. Maybe Eddie would laugh it off. 

“I know that…” She offered a sympathetic gaze. “I knew deep down that you would never leave without a goodbye if it wasn’t important.” She gulped, physically, that familiar lump in her throat returned with the emotional weight her words held. 

“I’m not a kid anymore.” Max gave you a small smile. “I know how hard that must’ve been for you, okay?” Her hands were quick to take yours into hers, fingers gently soothing you. “I don’t blame you. So don’t fucking blame yourself… I know how you get.” Her hands stood on your shoulder now, shaking you lightly in the guise of making you feel better. 

A poor smile appeared on your lips, Max possibly didn't realize how much her words mattered to you, how you needed to relieve yourself of the guilt. One gesture from her almost enough to heal the wound that coming back to Hawkins split open deep inside of you. 

“Oh my god!” Nancy’s shriek caused you to turn around. 

“Pinky, finally!” Her voice beamed, and before you even got a chance to say anything, she engulfed you in a hug.

 “I was about to lose it,” She whispered into the hug before her eyes widened at you and Max.

“Shit…” She muttered, knowing Max had probably already told you that she blabbed about your disappearance.

“I was going to mention that…” She tilted her head adorably, a shy smile adorning her lips as you brushed it off with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it, Nance.” You waved your hands in dismissal. “I can’t be pissed at you for anything… at least for the next five days…” You hummed. 

“You better use your wedding privileges wisely.” You said, throwing her a wink, as you pulled away from the hug. 

Your hands rubbed together quickly. “So... uh–where’s everyone?” You stammered, you were mostly asking about Eddie, but you also wanted to know where the hell Steve and Robin were. You missed those two idiots who were attached at the hip. They could calm you down better than anyone.

“The other kiddos are only going to be able to make it to the rehearsal dinner and the actual wedding.” She pouted, knowing that she planned a five day full of activities for all the people closest to her and Jonathan, but Mike, Lucas, El and Will were all going to miss it. 

She huffed. “And uhhh… Steve and Robin are coming later tonight.” 

“You remember we got that brunch thing at Steve’s tomorrow, right?” She asked, eyes squinting with doubt, before her arms crossed against her chest. 

You almost groaned, head falling back. Fucking Steve and his stupid brunch plan. 

“How could I forget?” You said through pressed lips, trying your best to seem enthusiastic, it wasn’t that you had a problem with it—it was because you were nervous, so fucking nervous to be in the same close proximity of Eddie again.

“And Jonathan should be...” She eyed the backyard. “Yup, in the backyard with the band. I left all the band planning to him.” She shrugged, making your eyebrows quirk. 

Shit. She really did fucking love Jonathan, didn’t she? She would’ve never let anyone meddle with her own plans otherwise. 

“Uhh–Dustin and… the others–” Her voice slightly cracked, and you instantly knew she was talking about Eddie. 

“They’re-uh they’re just in the basement… uh—getting something I needed.” She nervously scratched her head. “I’m sure they’ll—uh… say hi when they can.” She gave you a nervous smile, eyeing Max before turning her attention to you.

And just like clockwork, just as Nancy started to babble more about the plans she had for the five days you were supposed to be in Hawkins, her words were quickly interrupted by the loud voice of Dustin, “Shut up!”

“Shut the fuck up!” He exclaimed excitedly as you gave him a slight giggle.

“I wasn’t talking,” You joked, and before you could get another word out, Dustin squeezed you in a tight hug, causing more giggles and excited squeaks to escape your lips.

“Looks like somebody missed me, huh?” You raised a brow.

“What have you been up to, Dustybun?” You asked with a sly smirk, causing Dustin to cringe at the nickname.

“Me? Jesus, you’ve been gone for five years, and you’re asking what I’ve been up to?” You shrugged.

“Where the fuck have you been?” You couldn’t pinpoint if it was genuine curiosity or a slight anger lingering in his tone.

“New York,” Max spoke before you, the attention in the room shifting towards her. 

“She’s a tattoo artist now.” She exclaimed excitedly, causing Dustin’s eyes to widen.

“You?” He questioned, causing Nancy to join in and nod in excitement.

“No fucking way!”

“Well, I’m not exactly—”

“Dude, that’s so fucking cool!” Dustin gushed, interrupting you.

“Man, I knew those sketches were too cool to let them go to waste on Eddie’s bedroom walls,” He snorted, but your brows quipped, his bedroom walls? Did he still keep those? 

“You have to tattoo me,” He raved, interrupting your thoughts as you stared at him in disbelief.

“No way, do you want Miss Henderson to kill me?” You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Oh, come on, just one little favor?” He pouted.

“Nuh-uh! The last time you asked me for a favor, she chided me for months, months!” You emphasized, “She even left me one too many voicemails scolding me!” Dustin sighed.

 “How about something not-too-big? Like the bat one you did for Eddie, it looks so fucking—”

“You talkin’ bout me, Henderson?” A voice rang from the basement, and the slight sound of his footsteps dragging closer and closer toward the two of you caused you to stop dead in your tracks. You always knew Dustin was too loud for his own good.

You gulped, physically, and that lump in your throat reclaimed its place, his voice caused further suffocation in your throat, not being able to breathe when you could recognize that husky tone anywhere.

But it felt different.

Something about him felt different.

Your brain was struggling to comprehend a thought, your mouth had dried up, and it was getting harder to breathe.

“Dude... you could not rock a tattoo like me, no matter how fuckin' hard you—” And there was a pause, a small hitch in Eddie’s breath, as he finally realized who Dustin was talking to. And you could feel that hesitation, that uncomfortable tension filling the room that was once comfortable.

“Pinky?” You could recognize him just by his footstep alone, but now you’re sure it’s him, the nickname still rolling off his tongue so easily and sugary, like you had never left, like everything was okay again.

You’re slow to turn to face him, heart pounding with worry before you fully take him in, trying to decide his facial expressions, waiting for the anger, disappointment, shame, and fury.

You cannot place what his gaze holds, but you have missed the small glimmer in his eyes, the same one he always had when he saw you, so promising, so mellow that you feel your heart tightening.

You take him in now more than ever, his cheekbones are hollow and his face is more defined. He has so much more muscle on him, and it makes you question how long he has been working out.

His hair still lays messily on his forehead, bangs framing his face perfectly. Black jeans paired with a band-tee, and not just any band-tee, a Corroded Coffin shirt that unintentionally has you smiling. His dark brown eyes are mesmerizing as ever, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to accept the sight in front of him. Trying to make sure that he isn’t hallucinating, that you are actually here.

He looks good, so good that you can feel your mouth dry up, words getting stuck in your throat, the guitar pick necklace adorning his neck makes you want to pull him closer toward you.

You study him more than you should; those deep brown eyes are staring at you like a deer in headlights.

When he takes a step closer, gaze still locked to yours, you feel as if your souls have made a bridge, one you weren’t sure if you would be able to mend.

Close. He’s very close, but still, not close enough, not to your liking anyway. You want to be close enough to take him in wholly; you want him to engulf you in his arms, protecting you from all that’s bad in the world, feeling every ounce of him. The one person you had been yearning for was standing a foot away from you, and it was truly painful.

“You came,” Was all that left his plump lips, his gaze was still soft. He was as nervous as you are, something that you didn’t manage to pick up on. 

If only he knew why you had to abandon him, maybe he would understand… Maybe he would even rid you of your guilt.

“Y-yeah, I did,” You stuttered.

“Max, Dustin!” Nancy announced. “Why don’t you two help me in the back?” Nancy threw a look that both of them understood immediately, running off after her without another word exchanged.

The incessant throb in Eddie’s heart returned when his attention turned back to you, he knew you would come, but he didn’t know how much that would crush him.

That rage in him, bubbling up at the surface, subsided quickly when you gave him that gentle look. “What’s Dustin yapping about?” He asked with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood and ease his own worries.

“Oh— uhm… just that he wanted me to tattoo him,” You couldn’t help the nervous crack in your voice.

“You? Oh my god, you finally did it?” 

“Well… not exactly.” You gave him an awkward chuckle. “I’m training to be one, though.” You shrugged. 

“You know I’m a happy customer of yours.” He gave you a smile before he flashed his forearm, showing you the bat tattoo that you gave him five years ago.

He had much more tattoos now, but the bat tattoo you gave him still stood out among the thousand others on his forearm, at least it did to you. “Oh!” He breathed, attention diverting to something else as his hands fiddled behind him. He dug them in his back pocket, he struggled to get something it out. “Aha!” He exclaimed, waving the worn out notebook in front of your curious gaze. “But I’m definitely not giving you the ‘Promise’ notebook back!” 

Your pupils dilated at the sight; he still had it. He still had the notebook that your stupid sketches were sprawled all over. You gave it to him sometime during senior year, when he was having some trouble with his songwriting process. Your parents got you that notebook as a joke as soon as they saw the handwritten ‘Promise’ on the front, a silly play on your nickname. And you wanted him to have it; you wanted it to inspire him as much as it did you; your art mattered, and you wanted him to see that, so did his. 

“You… you still have that?” You asked, an astonished look still not leaving your features. “Yeah, it really played a key role on our first album.” He beamed. A crimson red blush was quick to wash over his cheeks; he wasn’t sure if he should’ve told you that or let you in this quickly when you left him on a whim in LA. 

“But… that’s— that’s still so fucking cool, Pinky,” His eyes widened, he shook off his thoughts in a flash. He had missed you, so fucking much—more than he let you on.

“So I’ve been told.” You meant to sound nonchalant. 

“What have you been up to?” You asked as if you didn’t know, as if you didn’t try to gather some information about him from Nancy and Jonathan. As if you didn’t listen to their album the second it came to your record shop.

“Just making some music, here and there.”

It was a lie.

He knew it was a lie, and you knew it was a lie.

Eddie made it big after the last time you saw him, signing onto the biggest record label and releasing an album that became way bigger than even his group had intended to.

“You don’t have to be so humble, I know how big you guys have made it.” You offer him a slight smile.

“Maybe a little bit.” He gestures with his hands, causing you to giggle. “Even had a gig here last week, the crowd was crazy.”

“It’s funny, though.” He murmured, causing you to raise your brows. “All the fuckin’ people at Hawkins who called me a freak and tried to shun me out was screaming my name... pretty weird fuckin’ feeling, huh?” He shrugged.

“I guess I know how the popular princess feels now,” He teased.

You nudged him slightly, “Guess you’re the popular boy of Hawkins now, huh?” He gave you a slight smile, and it felt comfortable, he was so easy to be with.

“Yeah, Jonathan worked really hard to get us for this wedding thing, you know?” He joked, giving a slight smirk.

“You and Jonathan, huh?”

“I don’t even know how you guys became best friends.” You added, wanting to joke.

“Yeah, I guess a lot happens when you don’t abandon people.” Ouch. You guessed you had deserved that one, but it still hurt to see him think of you this way, the entire atmosphere of the room had shifted, the casual conversation you had wasn’t as genuine as you thought it was, and you could see that he was hurt.

You knew he would be angry, but this seeming grudge wasn’t what you were hoping for. Maybe it was selfish of you, but you wanted him to miss you, tell you that he wanted to be with you, engulfing you in his arms as he spun you around, muttering how much he loved you.

But that wasn’t realistic, was it?

You gulped, feeling awkward, and now it was Eddie’s turn to feel bad. He internally cringed as he saw the look on your face, he knew that look so well. The way you played with your hair for some sort of comfort, he could sense that the guilt was eating away at you.

“I— I guess I deserved that.” You forced a smile, chuckling ironically, sensing the visible shift in Eddie’s face, the initial shock of reuniting with you wearing off, and his anger and hurt taking over. 

The tension that lingered in the air was interrupted by Jonathan swinging open the sliding door in the backyard and the four people standing behind him.

Before you could comprehend who they were, a squealing voice caused you to turn around, and a blonde-haired woman brushed past you. “Eds!” She called out, walking toward Eddie.

You looked up to see Jonathan leading Gareth, Jeff, and Frank to the backyard, telling them something about their gig, but you could care less as you stood still in your place, eyes glued on how Eddie greeted the girl, focus shifting solely on her as his hands caressed her shoulders, comforting her, as if you weren’t there, as if he didn’t care.

That screeching voice sounded familiar, but you couldn’t tell who the hell she was supposed to be when all you could see was her back and Eddie’s hands ghosting over her waist.

You were starting to feel small, trapped in your own body, with nowhere to go. Why was she hugging Eddie? Why were they so fucking close?

When she finally turned around, tucking her straight blonde hair behind her ears, glimmering blue eyes met yours, and you immediately realized who it was.

Chrissy.

The same Chrissy that was your supposed friend in high school, the same Chrissy who suddenly turned on you and made your life a living hell in senior year.

That’s why you didn’t recognize her—the strawberry blonde color she had was now more vanilla, and you hated to admit that she looked pretty—too fucking pretty.

Your eyes were narrowed with distaste; you had no right to be jealous, but you were powerless against that ugly emotion when it came to Eddie, swelling your chest way quicker than you intended to and stinging you harder as you struggled to keep a forced smile on your lips. 

Huffing, your mind drifted to Eddie. Surely he wouldn’t want anything to do with her, you decided. He knew some of the horrible things she did to you during your senior year, so there was no fucking way he would want anything to do with her.

Right?

“Oh my god, Pinky!” She squealed once again when she saw you, and you wanted to chuckle bitterly. With your tongue rolling inside your cheek, you tried to keep your damn mouth shut. She didn’t get to call you that nickname. Not when she did all of that during your senior year.

You didn’t return the hug she forced you into, eyes drifting to Eddie who was now avoiding your gaze. Lips pursed shut as he twisted his rings. Something weird was going on, and your stomach churned at the thought.

When Chrissy’s forced embrace on you ended, you barely forced a smile, and with a dead look on your face, you waited for her to disappear.

Why was she even here?

Who even invited her?

Running up to Nancy and asking her what the fuck she was thinking inviting her here would’ve been an exaggeration, you realized.

As envious thoughts sank further and further into your head, you realized something was wrong now. The way Chrissy leaned in to whisper something in Eddie's ear, giggling as she threw her head back.  

It meant something. It was like a sick feeling of deja-vu. A sinking feeling twisted your stomach, and a pang of insecurity gnawed at it. Your jaw clenched involuntarily; Eddie didn't even spare a glance in your direction. His attention was fully on her, and a wave of rage surged within you, threatening to overflow. The need to separate them, to pull her away from him, was almost unbearable.

Still, you knew you couldn’t do anything, and that was what made your blood boil, Eddie was nothing to you, he wasn’t even a friend to you—at least not anymore, something that you made sure of five years ago.

And before you could say or do anything more,

Chrissy smashed her lips against Eddie’s.

[circus-clangen]

Ooohhj my God, Whip just looks so happy-go-lucky the entire time. Like, everyone else is looking up like "Oh, grandpa is having another episode" while whip is just smiling up as Ring stumbles through the speech.

Idk, my heart with those two.

Everyone at best sees Ring as someone in dire need of mental help, or at worse as a burden. And Whip is just so excited that he gets his name from the leader. Like... Ring is still someone worth looking up to for Whip, despite how obviously messed up he is, and I just love that so much.

I am SO glad this came through because it is EXACTLY what I was intending! There are a lot of… odd, and unhealthy family dynamics in Circusclan. A lot of allegiances and side-picking and grudges and obligations and just a huge mess. But Whip isn’t a part of any of that— he just sees Ring as a leader with the potential to be great. He’s.. a little strange, yes. He’s got his quirks, but Whip loves his new clan and he loves the leader of it 💖

Ask Dump below cut 🎪

YALL are too nice 😭💖

We’ll see what the state of affairs is once I hit moon 100 in game… who knows what kind of nonsense I can make canon once the comic is over

Most of the other clans mentioned don’t have an important or recurring role in the Circusclan lore. The other clans (Mottled and Partridge, so far) don’t really want anything to do with Circusclan, and besides that, Circusclan is a traveling clan.

As for Marquees group? We will see more of them soon…

Ringstar very much knows Tiger isn’t his. As for whether he cares? That depends on who you ask, and whether they answer you honestly or not…

It’s okay we all cried 😔 Ringstar and his baby girl…

Funny enough it was going to be Whiplash! That’s what Ring was GOING to name him, and that’s what I named him in-game until recently, when I thought it was too gimmicky and changed it. Whip ended up being much more of a main character than I anticipated and I wanted his name to reflect that!

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

agere bakugou katsuki headcanons !!

— requested by @v4mpiirew1tch —

— cw: trauma and swearing —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

💥 - usually regresses to be about four years old since that’s when his quirk came in, but katsuki has a massive range of ages that he fluctuates between with a lot of overlap in behaviors. like sometimes he’ll be in an older headspace but still need a pacifier to self-sooth or he’ll be in a younger headspace and still wanting to engage with his older interests (I also love the headcanon people have where he pretends to be older than he is!! Chefs kiss to whoever came up with that one). if we’re being honest, he’s likely on the scale of being a perma-regressor but he can barely handle the fact that he regresses at all so no one really brings that up.

💥 - very prone to tantrums and meltdowns. his nervous system is chronically dysregulated and he really struggles getting a handle on his emotions. he’s either feeling things too strongly or not strongly enough and the former usually occurs in tandem with his rocky headspace. he tries really hard to be good but he just struggles when he’s on his own and it’s really helpful to have a caregiver sitting with him and helping him regulate. more often than not, it helps for him to physically move (running, breaking things, ect) so sometimes his caregivers just send him off to break down boxes or run around a training field or whatever other busy work they can give him that gets out his energy. when he’s alone and upset, however, he just shuts himself away in his room and rocks back and forth in the dark until all the bad feelings go away (autistic bakugou my beloved <3).

💥 - he likes learning when he’s small!! his favorite activity is any kind of early language assignment meant for young kids because it helps him feel young while also being productive use of his time. he gets antsy if he’s too bored, though, so he has to constantly be switching what types of work sheets he’s doing or even what subject it is. he also likes those educational kids cartoons but he’s banned from watching any that ask the audience for answers (think like dora the explorer) because he’d get too rowdy with it. there is only so many times you can hear a toddler yelling “FUCK YEAH” from the living room because they knew the answer to a basic math question.

💥 - he hates wearing his hearing aids when he’s small because it can be overwhelming and overstimulating (whereas he refuses not to wear them when he’s feeling older because he hates feeling different or like he’s missing something). when he’s especially young, he’ll do baby babble in sign language which sometimes turns to babble signing basic words for what he wants and you just have to hope you understand him. if you don’t, he WILL cry about it.

💥 - aizawa has a sticker chart for his behavior, particularly in the classroom, where he gets to pick the stickers when he’s good and aizawa picks the stickers when he’s misbehaving. it sounds low stakes but aizawa has ZERO sympathy for little boys that break the rules and consistently uses terrible bootleg all might stickers that irritate katsuki in how ugly and inaccurate they are. katsuki is extremely competitive and there is nothing he won’t do to win against aizawa and have a chart full of REAL and AUTHENTIC all might stickers. he’d rather riot against the school than allow for such a travesty. in general, katsuki makes it his life’s mission to make aizawa’s life hell (but in the most baby-fied way possible) and aizawa matches that energy every single time. everyone finds aizawa’s beef with a baby very funny and aizawa mostly puts up with it because he likes knowing that katsuki trusts him enough to misbehave like an actual child after years of perfectionism and volatility.

💥 - he really likes bears and tigers. that’s it. that’s the tweet. he has teddy bears and tiger plushies and he loves when you point out that his black and orange color scheme is similar to a tiger’s. he WILL get pissed if someone says that lions are the king of the jungle because it’s actually the tiger. he isn’t big on pet names but he doesn’t mind being called cub or bear specifically because of how much he likes tigers and bears. except koala bears— he hates those.

💥 - a lot of his regression is trauma related and he usually slides down to his younger ages when he’s triggered. he has a lot of nightmares too so he often wakes up crying and feeling really small. there’s an open door policy for any of his caregivers (I usually imagine aizawa, midoriya, or kirishima) that lets him waddle into any of their rooms to snuggle up with them if he’s having a particularly bad night. in general, he has a couple code words that he can text people (assuming he isn’t actively melting down) for when he’s regressing and needs help.

[cheriladycl01]

Quirk #4

Here is my fourth quirk idea! Feel free to use this in your fanfics (just give me credit if you directly got it from me) obviously I know however I’m not the only creative person in the world and that some people may have also had these ideas before me!

Quirk: Manifestation of Illustration

This quirk could work two ways.

Number 1 where’d she’d be similar to Tamaki where the illustrations on her body can manifest onto her. So if she had a tiger tattoo she can get tiger ability’s or turn into one.

Number 2 would be that she can bring to life ‘manifest’ anything drawn by her or on her. So it would kind of work like Megumi from Jujitsu Kaisen Demon Dogs do, mixed with Momo’s creation abilities. She has dogs tattooed on her. She can send them out as scouts. She has a dagger drawn on her, she can make it into a real dagger to use etc.

Or both if you want her OP (one can be like a quirk awakening later down the book?)

This entails:

- Objects Creation

- Object Morphing

- Animal Characteristics etc

Weaknesses

- Can only use a certain amount of ink at one time. The ink is kind of like blood to her if she looses too much ink, she will faint or pass out.

- If a tattoo is destroyed, like a dagger is snapped or a deck of cards is burned she will feel that in her body.

- If an object manifested gets lost on the real world she can’t ever tattoo over it again or use that object again.

- She can’t use it like Tamakis quirk where he can choose which bit of his body changes into what he ate. For girlie it’s all or nothing so she either turns fully into the animal tattooed on herself or she can only use their characteristics (echolocation from a dolphin, strength from a dung beetle etc)

- if she doesn’t have it tattooed she has to spend time drawing it on paper, and when she’s rushing her artistic skills can falter (she’s learned this from traumatising experiences)

Strengths

- As long as she has a tattoo of it she can pretty much manifest anything into existence. (Her classmates or prohero friends would joke about ‘useless tattoos’ until they find out it’s something they need)

- Because of the ease when it comes to drawing weapons she trained to learn how to not solely rely on her quirk, so she’s actually able to use the weapons effectively that she draws.

- very powerful quirk, top 5 hero kinda powerful.

Hero Name:

The Embodiment Hero: Bodice

Zodiac: Leo

Ethnic Background: French / Japanese

Height: 5ft 8

Weight: 134ibs

Style: Tomboy

Physical Traits: Lots of tattoos everywhere and they get more random the more you look.

Mannerisms: She rolls her eyes all the time, you compliment her, expect and eye roll, you tell her you’ve just killed five citizens and her cousin was one of them, expect an eye roll, her food comes out wrong at a restaurant, expect and eye roll.

Favourite:

Food: Coq au Vin

Drink: Champagne

Colour: Grey

Weather: Snow

Possession: Dagger

Morning Routine:

She has two diaries, one where she’ll draw out how she thinks and expects her day to go and then another one where it’s how it actually went.

Hobbies:

Painting and Hikes

Special Skills:

Drawing duh!

Pet Peeves:

Chatty Strangers

Bad At:

Opening up to people, bit of a closed book!

Biggest Fear:

Her ability to draw one day going, or not enjoying it anymore.

Greatest Flaw:

She’s a massive smoker!

Goals:

To eradicate the need for a hero society (ie no large scale villains means no need for hero’s)

Who I see them with:

Guys - HAWKS, Denki

Girls - MS JOKE , Kendo