#I know this is a little messy but I’m writing this spontaneously

[snowball-maltese]

I’ve been having some anxiety over stuff I see about trans stuff here on tumblr. Mosty just intrusive thoughts. But I always get uncomfortable when I see stuff about ftm bc it makes me feel self-conscious and anxious. Like I have to do that stuff to be happy. And I’m not trying to say trans people shouldn’t express themselves on this platform bc it makes me uncomfortable. That’s just wrong and disgusting. Everyone should be able to express themselves freely and be able to share their experience here :)

But I feel like sometimes this platform makes me feel like because I like to play as boy characters in games or because I’m attracted to women that I’m trans. Like I almost feel pressured into the LGBTQ. It’s not like people are doing it on purpose. No one is saying “you have to be gay to be normal” but I feel overwhelmed by it sometimes and scared that I might do something drastic that I’ll regret or that I’ll do something that I’ll later realize this isn’t the way I really wanted to present myself.

And after thinking about it a lot, I realized my gender dysphoria is deep rooted and a side effect of my upbringing and society as a whole. I grew up in a household that was pretty old fashioned. My father was 47 when I was born and my mom grew up in the Philippines, which can be conservative about stuff like that. I grew up thinking that only girls can like hello kitty and princesses and that boys can only like superheroes and cars. As a result of having an older parent, I grew up watching some pretty sexist shows without realizing it. I saw women in sitcoms doing girly things and figured since I don’t wanna do that “girly” stuff like doing my makeup that I wanna do boy stuff instead, later coming to believe, because of tumblr, that I might be trans.

I just now realized that this all came from the fact that society, especially in the eyes of people controlling a lot of the world’s economy like toy companies and fashion companies, see women as a certain thing and men in a certain way. Stereotypes of women and girls and stereotypes of men and boys are so normalized in the world we live in that some people don’t even realize they’re present and harmful.

I believe that no one should have to worry about whether they look too “girly” if they’re AMAB or worry about not being “girly” enough if they’re AFAB. I feel like there is a deep flaw in society if a young individual feels pressured by what they see in media about what it means to be a boy and be a girl. And coming onto such a diverse place like Tumblr at a young age such as 14-17, they might connect what they see about gender roles in society and what they see about people transitioning on tumblr (or any platform really, it’s not Tumblr exclusive of course!) and feel like they must be trans because they don’t fit the gender stereotypes of their assigned gender at birth.

People should be able to like whatever they want and not have to worry about feeling like they don’t fit in for liking ponies when they’re “supposed to” like spider man.

People should be able to love wearing clothes that makes them happy. Dresses, suits, hairclips, or ties, no matter their assigned gender at birth!

And if you feel like transitioning is for you, then yes! Go for it! I am so proud that you have fully chosen the path you think is right for you. But I feel like this world is fundamentally flawed if someone has to worry about how they dress or what they like just so they’re “normal” or otherwise they’re trans!

The other day my dad was telling me a story of an individual who was wearing a dress and saying things like “he’s embarrassing himself.” Let the bro wear a dress if they want! Let’s break down the stereotypes of men and women and just let people be people! People shouldn’t have to worry about people going “oh that person is so weird for liking the wrong stuff” “oh that man is so cringe for wearing that necklace” “that girl really should stop pretending to be a boy” I wish all hes, shes, theys and everyone else and in between would be able to express themselves without having to feel scared that they’re doing something wrong by being themselves!

LET PEOPLE LIVE THEIR LIVES WITHOUT HAVING TO FEEL PRESSURE BY GENDER ROLES

Tl;dr- Society’s gender stereotypes are harmful to young people who might be having body image problems, and no one should have to feel pressured into thinking they have to transition just because the world thinks they “don’t do the right things” for their gender.

You should love your body the way it is and you should feel comfortable in your own skin! Your body is beautiful just the way it is!

And if you feel changing it is what is best for you, then go for it! Because at the end of the day you are still beautiful no matter what the world thinks you’re doing wrong!

Gender roles do not equal gender identity!

This is just my take of course! I don’t want to offend anyone at all, I am just sharing how I feel about this and what my experience with this topic are. I’m scared to post this… but I feel like it’s important to put out there!

Is anyone still reading this?

[omotelie]

WHERE’S MY FUKING CAPO

[cuntdevil]

★ TINY LITTLE FIRES.

for two firemen whose jobs are to help civilians, they've managed to spark flames inside you that you wish not to extinguish.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, toji fushiguro & sukuna ryomen, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 2519 words !

╰┈➤ firefighter!toji fushiguro & sukuna ryomen & afab!reader (she/her), throatfucking, fingering, dirty talk mostly on sukuna's behalf, double penetration, anal & vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

( author's note. ) i thought of this specific prn link when writing this and thought it was tojikuna fucking reader. just a liddol visual while you read 😋

It was overwhelming, the heat of two men looming over you— how they were both so hauntingly handsome as their eyes explored your body. They caged you in with their bodies, tiny little fires sparking inside of the pit of your stomach as they held interest on you all night. Shoko wanted to hold a small celebration dinner after completing her residency, finally becoming an actual doctor. She held it at a small bar and grill, where the food was greasy and the drinks were strong. You hadn’t thought your night wouldn’t be one so special, just have a few drinks and enjoy the time with your friends. However, from afar, two men had their eyes on you the majority of the night. Crimson and hazel following your form in a way that had you constantly looking behind you, eyes never failing to meet theirs. 

You weren’t the only one to take notice of their domineering stares, Shoko watching over your shoulder before saying, “You should go talk to them.”

Eyes widening as your head quickly turns to her. Immediately, you shook your head. “I’m here to celebrate you.”

“You’re here to have fun,” she corrects. “Plus, you need it— them. When was the last time you had a spontaneous hook-up, much less a threesome?”

She was right. You rarely spend your leisure time actually doing any leisure, always finding something to keep you busy or something that came around the corner last minute that you completely forgot about. Your social life went down the drain outside of her, Geto and Gojo. But even the time you spend with them is too short. However, you don’t want to be a bad friend.

“But,” you pout. “Who’s going to drop you home if you get too wasted?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” Shoko says. “I’ll probably have one of the waitresses do it if it comes to that.”

“I don’t feel—” 

“I don’t care how you feel,” Shoko frowns, nudging you from your chair. “Go to them right now, or I’ll disown you as a friend.”

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for Shoko, or if you want to curse her. You feel like a mouse trapped inside of a lion’s den. Outside of the conversation with Shoko, you can’t recall how you even ended up in this situation, just knowing that you walked up to the bar, signaling for a bartender in their close vicinity. You let them watch you, slowly creeping closer towards them. 

Other than their impressive physique that had other men gawking at them in jealousy, they were different. One had dark hair that went over his forehead, black strands that nearly prickled his hazel green eyes. He had a scar on the left corner of his lip that had you curious how it ended up there in the first place. The other man has messy pink hair and piercing red eyes as he scrutinizes you, tattoos travel down his neck that you’re not sure where they travel to because of the hoodie he has on. 

You only remember through short conversation that they were firefighters, but other than that, they were very straightforward with what they wanted from you. And from the many men that have tried approaching you before, you could respect it. You respected it so much that you let them bring you to their shared apartment, their hands roaming your body the moment you were inside. 

Your dress hiked up over your waist as the pink-headed man— Sukuna— has found comfort in your breasts, massaging and kneading the fat as the brunette in front of you plays with the hem of your panties, finding fun in teasing you as your head falls to the chest of the tattooed man behind you. Wedged between them, there’s no room for escape as they pull out soft moans from you. Your braids tickle Sukuna’s skin as he watches you fall apart so easily. “We’ve got you this worked up and we’ve barely done a thing to you. It’s kinda pathetic… and cute.”

Just as he says this, Toji’s fingers dip inside of your panties, running to run two fingers down your clit and in between your folds. It has your chest rising and falling in the anticipation of it all, so needy and desperate to be filled by these two large men. “You should feel how wet she is. It’s like she hasn’t been fucked in forever.”

It’s an epiphany upon both men, a deep hum reverberating off of Sukuna’s chest as one hand leaves from under your dress. Black painted fingernails that reach to grab your face harshly and forcing you to turn, your eyes meeting his daunting red ones. “You poor thing,” he breathes. “Your pussy needs to be well taken care of then, huh?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but nod. “Yeah, it does.”

“It’s a good thing you got us, huh?” To which you nod again, whispering out a “yes.”

They lead you to the confined space of one of their bedrooms. You still have your back to Sukuna, sitting on his lap as he pulls the dress over your head. Breasts spilling out and leaving you nearly bare in front of them, the only thing left on you are your flimsy pair of panties with a hearty stain right in the center from your arousal. You can feel the hard erection of Sukuna right against your ass. Oh, how he feels so big and thick underneath you that it has your pussy clenching in a desire for something— someone— to be inside of you. 

Sukuna’s hand snakes in between your legs, the gloss of the black shining underneath the dim lighting as he shifts your panties to the side. Your folds glisten and shine, resembling the gloss of a porcelain doll. He spreads your lust over your clit as Toji begins to undo his pants, a sliver of his dark happy trail peaking out as his shirt rises. He’s in a haste, dragging down his pants and underwear, revealing his lengthy cock. Dark and heavy shaft that weighs him down surely as it hits his inner thigh instead of standing up prominently. He surely rivals the few partners you’ve had down the road. It’s intimidating, but your cunt is a curious thing, not caring if it’s the same thing that killed the cat. From its nine lives, you’re sure you can be brought back to life over and over.

Tiny little fires ignited in the pit of your stomach, you’re sure that these men are the only ones able to extinguish them. Toji holds the hose, his length in hand as the tip drips in his precum, sauntering over to you with it in hand. Your head moves involuntarily, moving yourself to the edge of Sukuna’s lap. 

“Look at her,” Sukuna moves a stray braid, pulling it back behind your air. “So eager…”

Toji adores it, reaching to cup your face as you lean closer to him. His cock so dangerously close to your begging mouth that's lolled open and ready. His tip kisses your bottom lip, smearing his pre against it and making your lips shine in the coat of lust-born gloss. Sukuna’s fingers still dance around your clit, teasing at your entrance as he plays with your folds. You moan and mewl, keeping eye contact with Toji while you squirm in the other man’s lap in need. 

“Please…” It comes out in a soft breath, whiny as your voice jumps up a few pitches. With two fingers against your chin, Toji makes you meet his eyes. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll give ya what you need,” he says before making the head of his cock enter your mouth. It takes your breath away, making you literally speechless as you’re only left to moan and mewl. Your muffled voice goes ignored as a dragged out groan leaves the brunette's lips as he curses. “Yeah, that’s so much better.”

Shallow thrusts in your mouth, it’s a filthy sight to envision as you’re held tightly by Sukuna. Finally does he end his torture against your pussy, the two fingers that swirled around your fat clit now pushing inside of your needy hole. Subconsciously do you clench, making it hard for him to enter before he’s slapping at the sensitive nub, making a squeal spark from your lips as the vibrations run straight through Toji’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he curses, pushing more of his length inside of your poor little mouth, forcing you to open wider to further accommodate him. Sukuna bites at the shell of your ear simultaneously, stretching out your cunt with two of his thick fingers. Your whines of pain are muffled by the cock in your mouth, your legs tensing around the hand in between them as your cheeks hollow around Toji. A deep inhale you take before you momentarily stop breathing altogether, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag.

The choked out cough is only music to their ears as Sukuna bucks his hips upwards in you, fucking your hole with his fingers and Toji stilling inside of you as you struggle to breathe. Tears prickle the corner of your eyes, face pushed into his happy trail. Tangled in this web that you willingly trapped yourself in, it’s starting to frighten you as you feel yourself drowning in the water of their hoses. You cry from the overwhelming sensation, how it feels so good to be used like this, the wet sounds of your pussy being fucked and abused by Sukuna’s fingers and the mess that Toji makes of your face, your makeup being smeared as tears run down and your lip gloss dissipating with each and every thrust of his cock inside you. 

It’s painful how Toji’s hand pulls at your hair, holding it as leverage as he drills his length inside of your mouth. Your mouth being used as a fleshlight for him to obliterate, he’s a selfish man as he can only think of his release. And it’s the sheer amusement of you that spurs on Sukuna, how your pussy salivates around his fingers as they stretch out your tight hole. Your honeyed slick painting the two digits as you clench around him. You continue to rock your hips against him, having him hold restraint as it goes straight to his cock. His free hand wrapped around the expanse of your waist as he batters your cunt until you’re feeling that call deep within. Your eyes squinting shut as you mewl out pathetically before the two men as Sukuna alerts Toji, “She’s gonna cum.”

“Well, she better hold it,” he says, speaking to you as if you weren’t there. As if you’re not the girl with his cock in your mouth. However, you obey, trying to keep it together as Sukuna’s unrelenting, his drilling inside of your pussy only getting worse in an effort to make you fall apart all too soon. Your legs spasm as you can’t hold it any longer, capturing Sukuna’s hand as you cream around his fingers. Fortunately, he doesn’t pry your legs open, only chuckling deviously to himself when your lower body finally relaxes. 

Toji chases his high inside of your mouth, leaving you to gag and choke around his length as he fucks it until he feels himself twitching. “Make sure to swallow all of me. Don’t waste a single drop,” he says before grunting. He spills himself inside of you, forcing you to swallow as he cums deep. You squint your eyes shut as he pushes his hips deeper before finally retracting and his cock falling to his thigh. Your throat’s dry, the absence leaving you gasping for air as you whine out, head hitting Sukuna’s chest. 

You’re made a pretty mess on his lap, your orgasm staining his pants as his fingers finally exit your cunt. He brings the coated digits to his lips, sucking them clean as a deep hum vibrates off his chest. “This starved pussy tastes so good. I think we might want to keep you after this.”

Sukuna pulls you both further on the bed, shedding his pants along the journey as you feel his length in between the crevice of your ass. Toji has your legs pressed against your chest, both holes out and vulnerable for their taking. You can feel Sukuna’s fingers inside your asshole, stretching you with the same two digits that were previously in your pussy while Toji’s got his cock aligned at your entrance. Your heart pangs heavily against your chest, trying to make a get away, but you swallow the anticipation away as you peet at Toji above you. However, it’s Sukuna that you feel first, his girthy length piercing through you as if it was creating a new hole inside of you as you cry out in pain.

“Breathe,” Toji has to remind you, feeling how tense you’ve become as Sukuna has stretched out your poor asshole. With all the prep he’s done, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. Finally does your body relax when you feel Toji’s length glide against your folds before his tip kisses at your entrance. Both sheathing themselves completely in you, this moment feels like the most gentle they’ve ever been in you, waiting for you to calm down before you’ve given them the okay. 

You’re the sweetest and most salacious thing they’ve ever devoured, cocks plunging inside of your holes greedily as they both thrust inside of you. The heat of their bodies leave you so dizzy as you can’t focus on a thing around you, and certainly not on a word either of them have said. 

“Taking our cocks so greedily,” Toji pants into your ear. “You’re a selfish little thing.”

“But the best one we’ve had yet,” Sukuna rebuttals, thinking of the countless times someone’s had to back down in the past. They thought you were close to it, how in your eyes there were moments of second guessing and terror written all over you. But you pretty little thing, you’ve braved it through, stuffed to the brink by two enormous men. 

Tiny little fires inside of you that they only make bloom even further, creating a wildfire in their paths as they beat and batter both of your holes. They stretch your out deliciously, having you ignore the ache that you feel course through your body as you gnaw on your bottom lip. No amount of water would extinguish the desire that’s now embedded deep within you, their seed spilling inside of you as you cream uncontrollably. 

Bed sheets stained as the pungent smell of sex infiltrates the air as the room grows hot and stuffy, caught within the flames of shared lust. When they’re done with you, cum drips from your cunt and gaping ass as you fall on your face. When you finally head back home, you find both of their numbers saved inside of your phone and a message from Toji:

Sukuna’s right. I wouldn’t mind keeping you. 

And you wouldn’t mind being kept.

( author's note. ) here's my hand at trying to write more plotless porn. :p

[scoops-aboy86]

Crushing (Secret Admirer pt 6)

Steddie Week 2024, July 6: Dizzy / drunken confessions / Crush on You by Bruce Springsteen

Fun fact: there are “sorry”s to correspond with a nat 20. It’s a luck thing, though more reflexive than actually hopeful. 

If you turn 6 upside down it's a 9 and today's the 9th, so I would argue that I am still right on time. 🙃 Anyway, I didn't get to the drunken confession part but it was getting too long, so that can be in the last chapter. Enjoy!

wc: 3034 / rated: T / set during season 3 / also on ao3

Sweet Steve, perfect Steve, golden Steve,

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry SORRY

I cannot adequately express how much I regret hanging up on you. It happened a few minutes ago and I’m already writing this because I can’t call back now, not after that. I can’t believe I even did that, I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid because you were saying all these perfect things? Literally everything I never thought I’d get to hear from anyone ever and then I ruined it. 

(The scribbles in the margins are representative of all the times I stop writing just to explosively cuss myself out for being so chickenshit. It looks messy but I am a mess and it’s all my own doing, made my bed and lying in it etc. etc., if I could mount my own head on a pike right now I would Jesus H. CHRIDJDBBWLSNEVEOALAVSVALAMDBDBXJXLFKENSVAVWUELMFBDUSKANS <— an example and demonstration)

I’m sorry I’m a coward. I’m sorry I started this and can’t seem to follow through, I’m sorry I keep yanking you around when it’s not what you deserve sweetheart, it isn’t at all. You were perfect, do you hear me? I had a whole list of songs planned, but picked that one spontaneously because you weren’t digging WASP and I was thinking about the way you’re so hard on yourself sometimes about the guy you were in high school, even though all high schoolers are idiots. (With how many times I’ve had to repeat, I am an expert on this, obviously largely from personal study and reflection.) You didn’t peak in high school, Steve, because you are a wonderful person right now and that’s what matters. You call yourself a romantic sap but I love that about you, please never lose that. 

With every letter you’ve poured out a little of your soul; it only seems right that I try to do the same to make up for my… everything. 

I’m a guy. I’m gay. I’ve never written that down before so explicitly but it’s true. You were so thoughtful about the whole music thing and trying to show we can have common interests but, to be blunt, unless dick is one of those I don’t think this is going to work out. 

No hard feelings obviously. It’s on me for letting this go on so long without being more honest. This is absolutely no reflection on you and does not make you queer by association. I won’t tell anyone—though if I did I’m not considered credible or trustworthy in this town, believe me. 

If you’ve read this far… I mean, I won’t know unless you tell me, obviously. But it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that you’re a good dude. The only person in my life who knows about me and knows my name is the man who’s more like a father to me than my “real” dad; it’s nothing personal, I’ve just had some bad experiences. Remember that concussion I mentioned? … Yeah, that was courtesy of the ol’ sperm donor. Thought I was over freezing up about it after more than half a decade, but no such luck!

On that note, I need to go… not be a person for a while. Take care. I remain, as always—

Your Secret Admirer

P. S. The song you said you liked was Rainbow In The Dark by Dio, off his Holy Diver album. It’s a good album, even if I’ve blown it with you I still hope you check it out sometime. 

Eddie drops the pen over the side of his bed, practically throwing it. He drops the notebook he’d scribbled the letter in to the floor; he’ll tear it out and mail it later. 

Probably. 

Maybe. 

He’ll think about it, once he’s done not wanting to think anything at all. 

~

Dear Secret Admirer,

Are you okay? I can’t call you back, so the best I can do right now is write. I shouldn’t have pushed you again, I keep doing that, like an idiot. 

I was having a nice time

Call back whenever, if I’m there I’ll pick up. Call back tonight even, except I can’t get this in the mail until tomorrow so never mind, but I won’t be mad, I promise. Or you can write to me. Please. At least to be friends, if you’re tired of how I always come on too strong (which is literally what Robin keeps telling me with that damn whiteboard all the time, go figure). And maybe you can tell me more about your music, like that one with the rainbows? I think that maybe you’ve been writing to me so much because maybe you’re lonely too, and I know how much that sucks. 

So, I’ll be here. Whoever you are, wherever, I hope you’re okay. Stay safe. 

— Steve

~

All Steve can think about is how stupid he was, pushing Secret Admirer like that. He hasn’t gotten a letter yet, and genuinely doesn’t know if he ever will again. 

Robin doesn’t ask why he’s quieter than usual during work for the next few days. Dustin returns from Camp Know Where and Steve tells him he doesn’t want ice cream because he has to stay in shape for the ladies, but it leaves the bad taste of a mostly-lie in his mouth. 

Because, oh yeah, breaking news: he thinks Secret Admirer is probably a guy. 

That would explain the adamant secrecy, the way the letters are careful not to suggest one or the other. No matter how embarrassing Steve is, a girl would have less to lose compared to a gay dude being outed in Hawkins. And he knows for a fact there were rumors circulating after Jonathan Byers gave him his first and mildest concussion in ‘83. Rumors about what he’d said, what he’d spat at the guy, all no doubt spread by Tommy and Carol. All his past actions coming together to prove that he can’t be trusted, can’t be confided in, even after everything. 

It’s almost secondary that it doesn’t seem to make a difference to his feelings. He may have fallen for someone who happens to be a guy—so what? It’s better than crushing loneliness. Better than no one caring. Better than being forgotten aside from his douchebag legacy at school and all his parents’ dashed aspirations for his future. 

Then Steve finds himself trapped in a Russian elevator with Robin, Dustin, and Lucas’s little sister (who should absolutely not be here, what the fuck were they thinking) and he just. 

He just regrets never getting to say goodbye. 

~ 

Eddie gets Steve’s letter the day he manages to crawl out of his room long enough to mail his own, checking his PO Box like a nervous tic. He’s absolutely floored by what he reads and screams into his pillow some more because it doesn’t change anything, because Steve wrote it while still not in possession of all the facts. 

After a drive out to Reefer Rick’s to replenish his stash, Eddie does the bare minimum of his regularly scheduled drop-offs. No rest for the wicked, because even the wicked need gas money and shit, but it’s all just halfhearted busy work. 

Then he goes home. Against all common sense and knowing that for the sake of his own heart he probably shouldn’t, he spends the rest of the day trying to call. Every time he punches in the numbers with his heart in his throat, but no one ever picks up. 

~

“Ask me anything,” Robin prods blearily from her stall. “Interrogate me.” 

Steve tries to think through the swimming in his head. “Okay, uh… When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today!”

He almost laughs. “No way. What?”

“When the Russian doctor brought his bone saw out. It was just a little bit though!” 

He can picture her holding one hand up, fingers pinched together to indicate a tiny amount. And, okay, fair. “Yeah it’s definitely in her system,” he mumbles to no one. 

“My turn,” she declares. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve does laugh this time, not because it’s funny but because the question hits him right between the eyes. “Shit, yeah, a couple times. Uh, first was Nancy Wheeler, junior year.”

“Ooooh… She’s such a priss, though.”

“Yeah, turns out, not so much.” He shrugs, even though she can’t see, hands dangling from where his arms are draped over his bare, scraped knees. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t ache—including his stomach and throat now, fucking Russian drugs. 

“Huh.” Robin pauses. “So… who was second?”

Sighing, Steve drops his head back against the metal divider at his back. “That blind phone date I told you about.”

It’s a toss-up as to whether he’s admitting this because of the aforementioned drugs or because he’s just too tired to give a shit anymore. What does it really matter, at this point?

“Really? Wow. Okay, I didn’t realize that got so serious.”

Steve lets his eyes fall closed, despite what is likely his third concussion in almost as many years. “It kind of didn’t, I just got… over-invested, I guess. I don’t know if he’s going to write again anyway.”

“H… he?”

“I think so. It was a secret admirer kind of deal, so I never actually knew, but… every time I brought up meeting in person, things went wrong. And like an idiot I kept doing that, so. I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be over.”

Robin’s hand smacks on the tile floor—gross. “How do you not even know for sure after a phone date? Gay guys still sound like guys, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, a little stung by her reproachful tone. “I talked and he didn’t, he just played some of his favorite songs for me to see if I liked them. Which I did, some of it. It was like, really hard rock or something, not what I usually listen to—”

“I’ll say, Mr. ‘No, Not My Wham! Cassette!’”

“—but it was okay. There were some really cool guitar parts.”

“And it… doesn’t bother you? That a guy was, uh, hitting on you?”

Again, Steve shrugs. “More writing love letters than just hitting on me, but… yeah. I was in pretty deep by the time I figured it out, but I guess not. Is it my turn to ask another question?”

“Um… Sure?”

He’s not sure why she sounds so nervous, figures it should be obvious what he’s going to ask next. It’s kind of a staple of their friendship at this point. “Who sent me that ice cream cone? The strawberry with rainbow sprinkles?”

Dead silence. 

“Robin?” he asks with a flicker of nerves, because, well. It’s been a long day. (Or two days? He’s lost track of how much time they’d spent underground.) “You OD over there?”

“No… I am alive,” she replies, but in such a quiet voice that it doesn’t really reassure him all that much. 

He shifts, scooting on his ass to get under the divider between them and pop back up on her side. It gives him a wedgie, but that’s the least of his problems. 

Robin wrinkles her nose at him. “Steve, these floors are disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, I’m already covered in blood and probably some puke, so.” He tests his tongue on his bottom lip, trying to decide if the split is still bleeding or if it just stings for the hell of it. “Who was it?”

She bites her own lip, then whispers, “Is it your secret admirer?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” he tells her. 

“Okay.” But she’s still hesitating. “Before I tell you… About what I said down there, about Click’s class. I wasn’t staring at you because of you, it… it was because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve blinks, confused by the sudden change of topic. “Who? Mrs. Click?”

Robin shakes her head faintly without breaking eye contact, literally without blinking as she whispers, “Tammy Thompson.”

“But she’s a… Oh. Oooh.” He remembers Tammy. She’d always fawned over him in that class, back when he’d been so busy mourning the way things had gone with Nancy that he hadn’t given her the time of day. “Yeah, I guess I see the appeal. Pretty, perky, blonde… She’s a total dud though.”

Robin gapes at him. “What?”

He waves a hand. “I’d just broken up with Nancy, and she was all over me all the time, dropping these hints about wanting to go out. It’s like she wanted to be a rebound relationship.”

“So? She’s goal oriented!”

“She wouldn’t leave me alone! Also, she wants to be a country singer but she couldn’t hold a tune if someone put it in a bucket for her.”

Sputtering, Robin smacks at his shin, one of the few places he isn’t bloody or bruised. “I will not take this superiority from the guy who’s surprise-crushing on Eddie Munson!” 

Shock zings through Steve like he’s just had his fingers jammed into an electrical socket. “On—really?”

He remembers Munson too. Who wouldn’t? Loud and weird, and the guy had always seemed perpetually on, always bristled like a porcupine. Stalking around campus in a black leather jacket regardless of weather and ripped black jeans. (Dark colors.) That denim vest with all the weird band patches on it. (Music that Steve didn’t know anything about.) Big flashy rings on his fingers, and Steve knows he’s in some sort of band, probably has guitar calluses. (Hands that would give him away at a glance.) Up on cafeteria tables with his Hellfire Club shirt and long hair, taunting the jocks who gave his friends shit. (Nerd, check. Not into sports, triple check. He’s pretty sure the dude had failed gym at least once for refusing to wear gym shorts.)

Literally the last person in Hawkins who should’ve had eyes for King Steve.

“Munson likes me?” Steve can’t feel his face too well, what with the beating he’d taken earlier during interrogation, so he’s not sure if he’s blushing. His voice definitely does something funny on the last word, though. 

“He said not to tell you who it was from because he thought you might toss it if you knew it was from him,” Robin admits. “Which seemed like a reasonable concern at the time, but that’s because I didn’t know—”

But then Dustin bursts in on them. The kid looks frazzled, and from there on out it’s all running and more blood and a monster made out of people and fireworks and death, their bathroom conversation forgotten. 

~

Eddie had given up on calling around the time the fireworks show started over the mayor’s kiss-ass 4th of July fair. Downed a couple beers while trying not to wonder if Steve found a date to take. Is still awake when Wayne comes in from his shift, and wanders out of his room because anything’s got to be better than staring at the ceiling. 

“Starcourt burned down,” his uncle tells him while Eddie moves zombie-like through the motions of making them each a cup of coffee. “Radio said the police ain’t ruling out arson. Drove past it on the way, there’s search and rescue folks crawling all over the rubble lookin’ for survivors.”

After Wayne goes to bed, Eddie tries dialing Steve’s number one more time. 

No one answers. 

~

After much pleading from Robin, and since Steve’s car keys are still god knows where and his parents are out of town, the Buckleys graciously agree to let him stay in their guest room. It’s just as well, Robin insists; with the concussion, someone should be around to check on him every few hours. 

“That’s only for the first twenty-four,” he points out the next day. He knows the drill. 

“I don’t care,” Robin insists. “You took a beating to protect the rest of us. You could have been killed, Steve! I am checking on you every few hours for the rest of my life from now on, just see if I don’t.”

“Please don’t,” Steve groans, but he’s grinning. Despite the way his ribs and head throb, and the dark circle under the eye that isn’t literally still swollen shut, it’s nice to have someone to be normal with—not ignoring what had happened, he’d learned his lesson about that with Nancy, but taking it into account and then going ‘yes and.’  “Or at least make sure to always knock first.”

“Why w—Ew! Never mind, if you’re feeling good enough to make jokes then you’re probably fine, offer rescinded.”

“You’re still gonna,” Steve points out, then knocks back the painkillers she’s brought him. Mr. Buckley’s shoulder surgery prescription, meet two broken ribs, black eye, and recently re-set nose. 

She sits on the edge of the bed, next to the duffel bag of clothes from his house that her mom had driven her to pick up for him. “Yeah yeah, shut up.”

Silence settles over them for a moment while Steve tries to get comfortable. And fails. His ribs really aren’t doing him any favors today. The discomfort is why he’s still in unflatteringly baggy shorts borrowed from Mr. Buckley and a t-shirt Robin had thrown at his head as a joke (and then helped him out on, since he can’t lift his arms that high without wanting to scream) that declares him a fan of Siouxsie and the Banshees. 

He has no idea how to pronounce Siouxsie and is kind of afraid to ask. 

“Sooo,” Robin starts. “Eddie Munson, huh?”

“Uh.” Steve can’t run a hand through his hair with his stupid ribs, not when he’s not running entirely on adrenaline or before the painkillers kick in, so he settles for twiddling his thumbs. “Yeah? I guess so. His letters are… They’re really good, Rob. I kinda don’t know why he keeps writing when my replies are so crappy. Like… I can’t even do them justice trying to explain.”

“Huh.” She waits a beat. “Well, I checked your mailbox, just in case, and there was a hand-addressed envelope that I brought back for you—”

Ribs be damned, Steve lunges for that duffel.

Tag list (and if you missed the earlier chapters check the "#secret admirer steddie" tag on my blog): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve @steviewashere

@cryingglightningg @theresebelivett @sleepy-steve @rozzieroos @lunaraindrop

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @wheneverfeasible @swimmingbirdrunningrock @yesdangerpls @matchingbatbites

@ihavekidneys @p0lybl4nkk @grtwdsmwhr @cheesedoctor @whalesharksart

@thetinymm @envyadams-vs-me @practicallybegging @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @dauntlessdiva

@nerdyglassescheeseychick @fuzzyduxk @chaosgremlinmunson @greatwerewolfbeliever @goosesister

@dolphincliffs @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @beckkthewreck @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao

[emmyrosee]

Only write this if u want to and with whoever u want.

But y/n has been depresso expresso these past few weeks she can’t get out of bed, she’s not been answering calls or texts and whenever she does she’s declining requests to hang out or come over….and her boyfriend had been missing her. So he just shows up spontaneously and rings the doorbell and she opens the door and she stares at him and then BURSTS into tears. BC GUESS WHAT ur grieving ur broke ur periods here u have assignments due next week that u haven’t even started and ur just so overwhelmed…. But Ofc u didn’t want ur boyfriend to see u like this u look messy right now. BUTTT Ofc ur boyfriend couldn’t care less and takes care of u anyway and brings u outside for fresh air and takes u for some ice cream at the 24 hr convince store nearby even though he doesn’t even like Ice cream that much but u have been craving something sweet and cold so why wouldn’t he 🥹

SO ANYWAY THANKS DOR READING LOVE U SO MUCH HAVE A GREAT NIGHT, EVENING OR DAY ❤️

-Anon🥢

The gentle knocking against your door has your brow raising and your show pausing. You’re not used to having guests at this hour, much less guests at all, and you wrap yourself in a blanket to get up and greet the person at the door.

You check the peephole. Osamu stands outside, playing on his phone.

Your heart sinks at the idea of him seeing you like this, seeing you so drained and so tired, but you can’t ignore him or send him away, either. You shrug the blanket higher on your shoulders and you open the door, trying to ignore the way his face lights up as you open it. “Hey,” you murmur.

“Hey,” he whispers, hands digging around the plastic bag in his hand, pulling out a bag of gummy bears. “I brought gummy bears.”

You don’t know why- Honest!- but your eyes water and your lip wobbles and you absolutely throw yourself into his chest, his arms expertly catching you and cradling you while you absolutely wail. You fist his shirt as your sobs wrack your soul. He doesn’t say anything, merely pressing kisses to your head and rocking you both gently. “I’m sorry,” you heave.

He shushes you softly, “don’t worry about it. It’s okay.”

“I missed you so much,” you sob, and he hums in agreement. “Osamu, I’m so tired, I can’t bring myself to do anything, what’s wrong?”

“You’re in your head,” he says quietly, pulling back to wipe a tear that falls from your eye. “And that’s okay. You’ve been working so hard, it’s totally normal to be a bit burnt out, baby. You’ve got a lot going on.” He smiles softly at you, “but this is your sign to be pampered for a little bit, okay? You trust me?”

You sniffle a few more times before nodding, curling back into his chest to feel the tightness of his embrace circle you once again. He says nothing, he does nothing, merely letting you cry it out in his arms, with the occasional kiss to the crown of your head. Once you’ve tuckered yourself out, you pull back to look at him once again, only to laugh at the imprint of your crying face on his shirt. “Sorry,” you manage between sniffly laughter.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “It’ll dry. Now-“ he nudges his head towards the door, “go lock up, and we can run to 7/11 for some ice cream.”

The mere idea makes your heart sing, but you pout up at him, “you don’t like ice cream though?”

“I’ll get chips. I know you’re going to steal some anyways, so I don’t mind,” he chuckles. For the first time in weeks, you feel yourself perk up, the idea of something sweet and cold tingling your tastebuds in ways you haven’t felt since losing your appetite. You move quicker than you have in days, turning off the tv and locking your door, only for osamu to catch you and wrap you in his big arms. You giggle as he catches under your knees and spins you into a bridal carry, and you wrap your arms around him instinctively.

He places you gingerly in the passenger seat, careful of your head and legs before closing the door and making his way to the drivers side. You smirk and lean over to honk the horn to scare him, cackling as he leaps a foot in the air, his face curling into one of mischief as he shakes his head. He gets in the car, “I’m getting you back for that.”

“Try me,” you tease.

The ride to 7/11 is just as fun, with his hand on your thigh and the windows down while music plays through the speakers. The sun is setting, casting a hue of pink over the horizon and objects on it, and it’s almost amusing how the 7/11 looks ethereal carved in pink.

Four bags of chips, a bag of m’n’m’s and three ice creams later, you check out of the store and make your way back to the car, each of you indulging in your ice creams before they melt into goo.

You sigh and look up at him, “are we going home?”

“Do you want to?”

He looks over at you warmly, laying his tongue flat to slurp up a lap of ice cream. You snicker and shrug, “not… not really. I mean… I haven’t been outside in weeks, and it feels so good.”

“Then we don’t go home,” he says simply, taking a bite of his cone. “I think the moon is full tonight, so we can go watch the sunset finish, look for the moon?”

You beam up at him, “I’d love that.”

He nods, “I thought you might.”

It takes only 5 minutes to find a park suitable to situate at, your fingers now dug into a bag of Doritos as he parks the car and nudges his head, “come on. We can set up in the trunk.”

“Trunk?”

“Yeah,” he encourages, and you merely shrug and follow his example of getting out of the car. He pops the trunk and plops himself down, patting the seat next to him. “I don’t have a blanket we can lay down on, so this will have to do.”

“Why don’t you lay on the dirt and I’ll lay on you?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes while you laugh. “I thought you were chivalrous, Osamu.”

“I’m not getting a tick because you’re too fancy to sit in a trunk,” he teases, and you shake your head playfully before sitting in the trunk next to him. You rest your head on his shoulders, and he reaches in the bag for a dorito, his head laying down to rest on yours.

And it’s quiet. Comfortably quiet, with a warm hand resting on your knee with his thumb rolling over the bone lovingly, a bag of crumpled Doritos tossed somewhere behind you. The sun has set half an hour ago, but you’re both too entranced by the bright moon hanging low in the sky to move. Bugs come to life as they chirp, and streetlights pop on around the park.

It’s bliss.

It’s amazing how much the fresh air has brought you back, how much Osamu brought you back, and you don’t know what you’d do without him.

“‘Samu?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you.”

He kisses your head, “I love you too, baby.” Then he sighs, and you feel the arm wrapped lowly around you trail up your side, and your lip twitches. “Now, about the whole honking at me thing-“

“No!” You squeal as five fingers dig into your side, holding you close as you squirm at the tickling, your laughter ringing in the air of night that envelops you both like a hug.

[mydearesthrry]

hey love, im absolutely in love w your writing and wanted to ask if you could write something about harry asking reader/(y/n) out? maybe he’s super nervous cause he’s been crushing on her for awhile <3

obvious - h.s.

a/n: thank you for the request, lovie! this got a little messy but i hope i lived up to your wishes a little. enjoyyyy <3

🎀 warnings/cw: nothing, fluff ofc, harry being a little nervy boy

🐇 pairing: actress!reader x harry styles

💐 wc: 1.1k

summary: y/n thought she was being so obvious- looks like she was wrong.

“You look incredible,” Harry mutters, eyes trying to stray off of his script in an attempt to memorize it for the scene the next day. “I’ve been thinking we should try something crazy…” He pauses, trying to let the scene play out as accurately as possible. “Let’s have a baby.” 

A few beats pass. “What?” YN follows, a bewildered look in her eyes. Harry just smiles, eyes flicking down at his script, nodding when he remembered his line. 

“I mean, not right this second, obviously, we don’t have time. But…” Throwing the words around in his head, trying to ignore his chest squeezing at how accurate his next words were in reference to her, “I love you, and I want more of you, and now I think I want a little you. I don’t know. It’d be an adventure.”

Their eyes catch each other, and they share a look that they both couldn’t explain even meant. YN dropped her gaze first before clearing her throat and shifting on the sofa. “Yeah, that was great, H. I think we’ll do well tomorrow.” 

Harry sniffed and looked down at his script, flipping back to the title page. “Um– yeah, we will.” 

Fuck. Harry thought. His hands kept fidgeting, left leg bouncing up and down. He wasn’t even anxious, per se, but he felt so incredibly nervous because of the pretty angel sitting next to him. He’d been pining over her since he was a teenager, watching all of her movies the day they came out, and listening to all of the tracks that she’d sung on every soundtrack. He even went on a spontaneous trip with the boys when they were in New York just to see her perform on Broadway. 

So safe to say, when he got the call back that he’d gotten the role of Jack Chambers in Don’t Worry Darling, he was doing somersaults when he found out who his on screen wife would be. It felt crazy to him that his dreams from when he was in tenth year had finally come to fruition— kind of. The two had a weird relationship at first, YN being extremely closed off and standoffish at the beginning, but she slowly let Harry break down her cemented walls that she’s had up for so long. She didn’t know why, but for some reason, Harry was one of the only people that she allowed to get to know her– fully, at least. 

“Okay, pretty boy, it’s getting pretty late, and I have an earlier call time tomorrow than you do, so I think I’m gonna head out now.” Standing up, she brushed off the front of her gray sweatpants, showing up to Harry’s flat in the most comfortable clothes possible since she knew she would be there for a while. She picked up their now empty wine glasses, them having shared a glass or two throughout the course of the night. 

Harry didn’t give any response and an awkward silence filled the air, almost suffocating as YN stared at Harry in confusion. “H?” 

Nothing. 

Harry was lost in his thoughts, seemingly. I need to do it now, but what if she says no! What if I’ve been misreading her this entire time and she’s just being nice? But that wouldn’t even make sense, would it? She’s been picking up what I’ve been putting down… I think? Has she? Fuck… Wait, wait what? Is she leaving? Why’s she slipping her shoes on?

“Wait,” Harry managed to choke out, YN halting her movements immediately. “Don’t– um, don’t leave, please? Come sit down, I wanna… I wanna ask y’something.” 

Fuck, he was really doing this. 

“Been trying to tell you that I’m leaving for like, ten minutes now, Babe.” She laughed, toeing her shoe off, dropping the other one she had in her hand onto the floor. 

“What’s up? What’s the matter?” She traced his face with her eyes, clocking his distant look that was written all over his face. 

“Bug, have t’tell y’something, but if I’m wrong, y’have to tell me, promise?” Harry mumbled, eyes flicking down to his hands where he was fidgeting with his ringless fingers. His rings were in a velvety cinched bag that YN, of course, had gotten him at a little thrift shop they found. 

“Promise, babe. Now, what is it, is everything okay?” She gripped the bottom of his chin in an attempt to get him to look at her. It began reminding her of the scene they filmed earlier of their characters in the living room in a very vulnerable state. 

He was too nervous to say his next words to even realize she'd called him babe. “I… I- um- I don’t want this t’ruin our relationship, but I have t’tell y’cause it’s been basically eating at me, but I… I really like y’and I want nothing more than t’take y’out on a date. But, if y’don’t feel the same don’t worry! I jus’ didn’t want to not tell y’and ruin our friendship or anything, even though now I fear I’ve made it wors-” 

“Oh my God,” She cut him off, giggles that soon turned into full on cackles filling the air. He watched her in fear, a worried look now on his face at the thought that she was laughing at him. “Harry, sweet boy, I would love to go out with you.” 

“I- you- wha- what? I… I don’t think I understand?” He stumbled, her actions and words not adding up in his YN clouded brain. 

“I thought I was being so obvious about how I felt about you, H. Sorry for not being more clear, that’s on me. Is this why you’ve been so distant and weird with me lately? You’ve been acting like this just ‘cause you have a crush on me?” She tried to understand, but by the look on his face she could see that he was really not getting what was even happening right now. “Babe, I’ve liked you since I watched you in the crowd of the first AMA’s you went to. I didn’t even get to meet you, but I’ve liked you since I’ve seen you, and it honestly’s gotten worse since I have to pretend to be your wife on screen.” 

Harry was bewildered. “So, y’telling me, that all this time I’ve just had to ask? Instead of torturing myself every night?” 

“Yeah, bug, that’s what ‘M telling you,” She giggled, moving closer to him on the couch. “We’re doing this backward, I think. How’s it that I’ve had your literal tongue in my mouth before you’ve even taken me out on a date?” 

“Well, when you put it that way!” He laughs, pulling her onto his lap like he’s always wanted and waited to do. They sat in silence for a few beats, letting their eyes roam around their faces without worrying about the director yelling 'Cut!'.

“What’re you waiting for? Gonna ask me out officially?” She whispered, moving her face closer to Harry, them being able to now feel their breaths waft between them. 

“Nah, gonna kiss y’first, officially as us, and not as Jack and Alice.” Harry mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

And when their lips finally touched as Y/N and Harry, the teenage boy in Harry was practically doing backflips and somersaults, knowing that his dreams had finally come true.

[bellasprettywords]

Hey, I love your writing! I was wondering if you’d do a little something based off of the lyrics “Well, every once in awhile, she'll find my number in her phone and we'll talk for hours She'll tell me things I would have never known about when we were together She's saying, "Sorry, it's just such a long walk home" So she's coming over cause it's better than being alone” Spencer Reid x female reader. I was thinking more like a Midwest emo alt type of character, totally not someone you’d expect Spencer to go for?

I think your nose is bleeding (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Thank you very very much for the request!! I hope you like this little one shot, because I didn't know the song, but I hope I could meet your expectations🩷✨

My masterlist

Requests are always open🥰

Warnings: Mmm apart of it being a little messy, I think there's nothing, but it fluff

Word count: 1,232

y/n – your name

Spencer and you were kind of an odd couple, excuse me, a couple of friends for the untrained eye. While he’s a trained scholar with a collection of PhDs on Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering; with an impressive job as a profiler at the FBI, which most of the time had him travelling all around the country, and a shy personality with socially awkward tints, and a genius brain. You are a tattoo artist with a free spirit, a soft spot for poetry, love for sassy comebacks, and a special love for midwest emo music. Once upon a time, almost a year ago, Spencer and you were a couple, but the two of you decided to leave things as friends, because your lifestyles were quite different, which made a relationship considerably difficult for you. However, the two of you decided to stay friends, which seemed kind of easier as you established a set of rules to make sure everything between the two of you could flow naturally.

Even if it was as friends, you knew that the two of you seemed like polar opposites, but the love you shared always made you be better for each other, growing up, learning about the other’s point of view, and becoming empathetic, even if you didn’t see eye to eye under certain circumstances. After your break-up, Spencer and you learned to compromise and commit to make sure the friendship could work, sure, sometimes it was hard considering his packed schedule, and your love for spontaneous adventures.

It was a little later than you would usually close the tattoo studio, so you decided to call Spencer to see what he was up to; you hadn’t talked in a while, so you weren’t even sure if he was in the city, but it was worth it to take the shot.

“Hey, y/n, it’s nice to hear from you” you heard Spencer’s voice through the phone

“How are you, mighty Doctor Reid?” you asked excited because, deep down, you were really longing to hear Spencer’s voice

“I’m… I’m alright, you know, just doing my thing; how are you? It’s been ages” he said trying to hide his own excitement to hear from you. Sure, you were friends, but deep down Spencer hoped that with time and more organization, maybe someday the two of you could rekindle your previous relationship

“It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I know what you mean! I’ve missed you Spence, I hope I’m not interrupting you at work or anything” you said, walking to your car

“No, I’m just home solving a puzzle, and deciding what to order for dinner” he said

“Uh, that’s nice, I was actually thinking about going to Little India to get take out. I’m really craving chicken curry, want anything?” you said jokingly, pretty sure Spencer wouldn’t catch the subtext

“Uh… sure, some chicken tikka masala and flatbread would be pretty amazing, thank you for asking” Spencer said, ensuring you he didn’t catch the joke

“An order or chicken tikka masala, white rice, and flatbread, coming right up” you said getting ready to hang up the call, when Spencer interrupted

“Wait, don’t hang up” he said as you turned on your car engine “I want to go with you, if that’s okay, I mean, if it’s not an imposition” he stuttered this time

“It would be delightful, sure, I love talking to you” you said with a shy smile forming on your lips, “What have you been up to? Any cool cases I can know about?” you asked Spencer

“I flew in today from Atlanta, we went to solve a case there” Spencer stared telling you all about the case, the unsub and how the team managed to save the victims that were abducted, when a car cut you off and honcked at you

“Jerk” you said under your breath

“y/n! are you okay? what was that?” Spencer asked frantically

“I’m okay, I’m okay, it was just some jerk” you said hoping to soothe Spencer’s concern “Did you know I hate driving?” you asked the young doctor

“I didn’t know that” he said sounding quite surprised at your revelation

“I really do! That’s why I’d always ask you if we could carpool when we were together” you confessed

“Hu… That would’ve been useful information back then” he said, making sure of making a mental note about that, to ensure to drive you whenever he could do it

The two of you kept talking, and the 40-minute drive that you needed to get to your favorite Indian restaurant, suddenly felt like a 5-minute stroll with the one you loved. Talking to Spencer like this felt amazing, it was peaceful, it almost felt natural like breathing, he always had the right words for you and even when you paused the conversation for a little while, the silence between the two of you was incredibly comfortable. You arrived at your destination and while you were ordering the food, Spencer stayed on the line with you, speaking about an impressive number of folkloric Indian stories, and facts about the country. You picked up the food and drove to Spencer’s apartment, this time, the drive was quite short, but that didn’t mean it was least pleasant with Spence’s rambling

When you arrived to the apartment building, Spencer was already downstairs waiting for you

“Hey boy-genious, I was at least hoping I could separate the orders before giving them to you” you said, a little butt hurt that apparently, Spencer didn’t even want you on his apartment

“What are you talking about? I’m here to help you carry the bags upstairs” he said a little confused by your comment

“Oh, I thought… Never mind” you said brushing off the butterflies that starter fluttering inside your stomach

“I’m really glad you called, you had no idea how much I missed you” Spencer said as you were entering the apartment building

“I missed you too Spence” you said

The night went amazingly, and the damn butterflies wouldn’t go anywhere. The two of you eat dinner together, and it almost felt as you have never broken up, the conversation flowed, and you could feel how this was one of those moments you’d always treasure in your heart

“I should get going, it’s a really long drive home” you said as soon as the clock struck 12:00 am

“Don’t go, please, just… stay the night” Spencer pleaded with his puppy eyes

“I really shouldn’t” you replied, avoiding eye contact with Spencer. Sure, one would argue that a friend can stay over at another friend’s apartment, but you knew that with Spencer it would be complicated, especially as you weren’t over him yet

“I’m begging you, I may seem alright, but as soon as I go to bed without you I feel so… empty and alone. This apartment is not the same without you, as a matter of fact, my life is not the same without you” Spencer said taking your chin so you could look at him in the eye

“If I stay the night, I may never leave” you said, gifting Spencer a side smile

“Maybe I just don’t want you to leave” Spencer said, leaning forward and starring intensively into your eyes, so you did what any normal person who has the object of his or her desire would’ve done: you leaned forward, and kissed Spencer

[lelengerine]

call you mine

✿ pairing |  haechan x reader

✿ synopsis | sometimes, love letters might just be the way to get someone to like you (or maybe it’s because they’ve liked you for the entire time).

✿ genre | kinda tooth-rotting fluff at some points, a little bit of childhood friends to lovers, also pretty cliché so bear w me here

✿ wc | 1.4k

✿ notes | hello! this is a sequel to sincerely, yours and i highly suggest reading that first but this can also be read as a stand alone fic too hehe <3 ngl i kinda got carried away writing this ;0; as always,, lmk ur thoughts on this one :D

m.list

if you’d ask him, haechan wouldn’t know how long he’s been staring at the mirror, picking out clothes from his closet before tossing them into the far corners of his room. 

each second passes by and the more his irritation grows from the fact nothing seems to be just right. he knows he’s just going for a casual trip with you, and that’s all it’ll ever be, but the back of his mind itches at the thought of being with you for a couple of days straight.

sure, you’ve seen him wear all sorts of things back from when the two of you were little. the first time you met, he was sporting a shinchan shirt in the brightest green you’d ever seen. he even used to wear this one jacket that’s seen it’s fair share of days (correction, he still does), and you’ve always complimented how much it suits him. 

you’d honestly be the last person to care about what he’d show up in, and yet, he wants to look the best for you. he doesn’t know why this is exactly the case, but he’s never questioned it too much to care either.

haechan then pulls up a purple hoodie littered with embroidered patches from his closet by the hanger, recognizing it almost immediately. not because it’s an item he’s worn so often, but because you borrowed it more than once before. he still remembers how the fabric would completely engulf your figure, obviously being too big on you. though, you always tell him that’s exactly what you prefer.

he always thought you looked cute in it anyways.

carefully folding it up, haechan packs it into his small suitcase — the hoodie now being the first piece of clothing that rests inside. 

checking the clock, he doesn’t have much time left before needing to pick you up and painstakingly tries to gather all the things he needs to bring for the trip, rushing with you in mind. this trip would be marked as the first time you would travel together. well, more like the first trip without your parents coming along since they deem you’re both old enough to not get into stupid situations. at least, that’s what they wanted to assume from the both of you.

okay, so maybe he should be a little more nervous than he is. whatever, the jitters will come hit him straight in the face soon enough when he least expects it.

he finishes stuffing his suitcase full of items, albeit a bit sloppily and not at all like he originally planned for, but it’ll have to do. he’d rather have a messy bag filled to the brim with wrinkly clothes that might not even be fit for the weather than be late to the time you both agreed he’d pick you up on.

-x-

haechan soon arrives at the front of your doorstep pretty much on the dot, hand instinctively reaching into the pocket of his jeans to pull out a replica key with a mini teddy bear charm dangling from it. you gave it to him for when he ever wanted to spontaneously visit you and it’s something he treasures dearly, knowing it symbolizes the trust you place in him.

eagerly, he rushes up to your room, assuming you’re still inside. “y/n- are you ready to go?” he questions, sounding a little flustered to see the area empty. it isn't like you to leave your room unattended. did something happen-

“i’m in the bathroom! i’ll be out soon.” he hears you yell out soon after, placing his heart at ease. 

“oh thank god,” he mumbles softly, not knowing what he’d do if you were gone.

he takes the time to look around your room, noting how practically nothing has changed since he last visited when he was much younger. there are still glow in the dark stars that vaguely shine on your ceiling, ones he helped you stick because you couldn’t reach the ceiling even with the height offered by your bed. hell, even the wooden cabinet you use hasn’t changed for the past years and is kept in good condition thanks to your care.

it’s like he’s reminiscing everything he’s known about you all at once. every little detail only he knows as your best friend.

there is, however, one small thing that sticks out of place in his eyes. a small, well-kept box rests below your desk, one he’s never seen before nor heard you talk about. 

he believed you always told him about everything that went on in your life, so why hasn’t he known about this? perhaps he had been mistaken all along.

the thought can’t help but form the start of a crack on the notion of him being your best friend. maybe someone else had already taken that spot away from him right under his nose and he had realized just a bit too late. 

he didn’t want to be the person who would limit you to who you make friends with, quite the opposite actually, but jealousy serves to be a weakness in him – slowly seeping into his mind and clogging his train of thought. he could only wish he wasn’t feeling this way right now.

it's that same jealousy that urges him to pick up the box, crouch down and quickly take the lid off. there, he finds the dainty envelopes stored away with utmost care and attention to detail.

each one is signed with ‘sincerely, yours’ written at the bottom left in a perfectly executed cursive font, and that’s when he realizes they’re letters written with someone in mind.

he sighs, returning back to the times you’d nag him to learn lettering with you. he would never take the lessons seriously, but you always did. so this was why you wanted to learn how to write so prettily, he quickly assumes. 

his heart grows heavier the more he rummages through the box, the realization of the envelopes being love letters sinking in slowly but surely into his soul.

you like someone, he thought to himself.

so it wasn’t even someone stealing his title of best friend. it was someone who had stolen your heart. that someone was the person he yearned to be for so long, and now, it was never going to be him seeing as you’ve even committed to writing down letters. 

since when did you even write letters? haechan scoffs to himself bitterly at the thought.

“hyuck, i’m done. we should get-“ you come out of the bathroom unannounced, not even giving him a chance to gather his thoughts. “…going.”

he probably caught you just as off guard, judging by the way your shoulders stiffened up and your line of sight instantly focused on the letters that now rest in the palms of his hands. he already pieced together the fact he was never supposed to know about this, much less rummage through your things without consent. 

what was he even going to tell you? surely he could not get himself out of this situation with an excuse after being caught like a raccoon searching for scraps in the neighbor’s trash can at night. instead, haechan does the next best thing he could think of.

“…y/n? what are these?” well, to be fair, he never said his idea wasn’t outright stupid.

truthfully, he doesn’t know whether asking you directly was the right thing to do. yes, he knows he’s the one at fault in this situation, yet this was the only way he could hear a proper answer from you. 

he just wanted to pull the bandaid off his heart and accept the fact you have feelings for someone else. any form of hatred you throw his way after all this, he will gladly accept.

with a deep breath, you finally answer him with “they’re… sincerely yours.”

and for the second time today, haechan’s brain goes blank. did you just say all those letters were for him? no, he probably interpreted your words incorrectly. 

“mine?” he utters out moments later, voice still laced with confusion.

you sheepishly nod your head along to his words, further confirming what he had originally perceived about those letters were oh so wrong. his heart that was once sinking was slowly coming back above the tide, meeting the bright, blue sky. 

his lips curl upwards into a smile unbeknownst to him, however, you’re quick to notice – taking that as a sign your feelings may have not been so one-sided after all.

“can i… read them?” haechan looks at you with stars in his eyes and you wonder if that’s a reflection of the glow in the dark stars that decorate your room’s ceiling or if it's just him glistening under the sunlight that barely manages to shine into your room.

just how could you decline when he’s acts like this in front of you?

“after our trip?” you propose, “at least you’ll have something to look forward to when we get back.”

“okay, but does that mean i get to call you mine?”

now you’re the one flustered, heat creeping up to the apples of your cheeks. just how much did his confidence surge knowing the letters were for him? “i don’t know- i mean, you haven't asked me out yet.”

“oh baby, you genuinely don't know how long i’ve waited for this moment.”

[shalomniscient]

haha thank u for ur thoughts on kjsr ask! there's like no fics or in game content for her so i have been starving sm. i love her so much, wish more people got into her character. being a picky reader AND a kjsr fan is torture, since it's hard (for me personally) to find fics that fit the way i have analyzed her. they always write her off as cold when i feel like she justs awkward cause of her lack in experience in socializing.

for college au, your analysis was on spot. thats like how i exactly imagined a college student kjsr to act. i wonder how she'd handle having a complete opposite of her as an s/o? like she's always organized, she probably has the habit of keeping her stuff in their usual positions as she sits by her chair for lectures. being raised by a military family and even attending a military school, would def make her unable to do things out of order. so having an s/o whose actions are always spontaneous and last minute would def place her in an uncomfortable spot. since imo i think of her as someone who hates unusual things, she wants everything in order. so if she met R whose constantly changing things and is the complete opposite of order, i wonder how would she even warm up to that person.

she def be irritated at first meeting with them, and maybe even R would also be annoyed with how she has a stick up her ass 😭

their slowburn would be so slow, ough i love ksr, she makes me ill ❤️

having an extremely disorganized partner would be roughhhhh for her i won’t lie. sara is about efficiency and quality—she’d absolutely loathe pushing things to deadlines and last minute work. and having a messy workspace… it’d give her a headache. also she’s definitely a clutter hater. everything in her room and on her desk has a practical purpose. if it doesn’t, it goes in the trash. as for spontaneity, i think sara would be able to adapt, but i think she would be really uncomfortable as you said. if it’s for the sake of like a project she would bite back her discomfort and press on, but if it’s like a casual thing i think she may just straight up decline. she acts this way because i believe she likes feeling prepared for things and knowing what she’s getting into. this doesn’t mean she’s against learning something completely new, but she just wants to know what she’s getting into yk? she’s very analytical. she likes plans and stuff because it gives her structure and purpose, which is very important to her because outside of that she doesn’t know what to do. she is so far behind in self-development that she clings to outside sources of structure (in canon, this is religion and the military).

so all that being said, having an s/o who abhors structure is going to be incredibly difficult for her. again, she’d be fine with trying new things, as long as her s/o tells her maybe a day in advance saying something like “hey, tomorrow we’ll do a surprise activity. bring x/wear x”. she still doesn’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but she knows there’s going to be a surprise, and she can physically and mentally prepare for it and that’s fine for her. if it’s true, pure, spontaneity she’d very much be thrown off her rhythm. it’s possible she’d even be a little irritated, since she could also have other things planned. all this being said, if there’s an emergency, she won’t crack under that pressure either. if anything, she works better, immediately forming a response plan in her head. am i making sense? i’m just rambling atp lmao i’m so sorry anon. tldr; my personal opinion is that sara would be very poorly compatible with a spontaneous person. she may not be able to even start being their friend to eventually become a romantic partner. ofc, this is my own take, so if u see that this can work, then indulge in it !!

[rivenantiqnerd]

OC Most likely to tag!

I was tagged by @paeliae-occasionally @tildeathiwillwrite and @willtheweaver (thanks) and it looked fun, so I’m doing it. I’ll shall answer with the cast of the Grove of Kings and Killers.

Rules: answer with which of your OCs would be the most likely to do the statement, then give new statements for the next person.

Most likely to arrive ridiculously early

Francis? He cares about stuff like that. Other than that, Courlin, only if it’s for a Guild thing, because she absolutely does not care about anything outside of the Guild.

2. Most likely to be in a relationship for less than a week

Rosanna.

3. Most likely to secretly be really good at music, but just not tell anyone

I’m not sure, but Francis or Victor might. Some of Courlin’s siblings play musical instruments, but that’s not a secret. For how much I enjoy music, especially playing it, I don’t really have any characters that play music.

4. Most likely to embarrass their friends in public

Isla (Francis’ little sister). She loves to tell embarrassing stories about her friends to other friends and/or strangers.

5. Most likely to get drunk/hungover

Rosanna, especially after the thing with Edgar, even though getting drunk is what got her into that problem in the first place. She canonically does this quite often.

6. Most likely to get kicked out of summer camp

Either Courlin, for being generally unpleasant to the other kids/bringing a weapon(s), or Francis (shocking, I know), whose parents would be politically asked to take him home and have him tested, because he kept trying to organize the counselors’ stuff and didn’t want to do the potentially messy activities.

7. Most likely to Spontaneously adopt a child

Francis does this. Technically him and courlin since they end up living together, but he would be the one to bring the child home. Conversation would go like this:

Francis: Courlin, I’m home! And I have a surprise for you!

Courlin: Francis that is a literal child what is it doing in our house.

Francis: “She,” not “it”, actually. And she said she was an orphan and didn’t have parents or a home! And I thought, well, we have a home, and we could be her parents.

Courlin, in absolute disbelief: Francis, you can’t just bring a random child into our house! She could be lying and you’d be arrested for kidnapping. And we are not - not - becoming parents. I’m kicking her out. Take her back.

*kid ends up staying*

8. Most likely to have the loudest sneeze

Vincent. He’s like if you took a jock, made him nice to be around, and put him in fantasy, so it only makes sense he would sneeze loudly.

9. Most likely to be taken the least seriously

Probably Collete (Vincent’s sister), because she’s the youngest.

10. Most likely to faint

I think Rosanna because Courlin would never do something so weak and the boys just wouldn’t. Actually Francis probably would.

11. Most likely to enjoy art

Rosanna because of her upper class raising, but I could see some of the younger trio (Victor, Isla, and Collette), really getting into art.

12. Most likely to hate sports

Well, Courlin likes physical activity but dislikes sports, Rosanna likes sports but dislikes physical activity, and Francis dislikes them both.

Tagging: @theverumproject @litany-writes @lordfenric-writes @the-golden-comet and @elsie-writes have fun

Which of your characters is most likely to:

Get arrested on false charges

Get caught robbing a candy store

Sing in the shower

[masterwords]

Yo! I love reading these, you’re putting in the MOST.

1. Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? (You know I’m eagerly still awaiting that nightmare fic, so I’ll have this as an appetizer)

26. What are their vices? (Specifically in their relationship)

Can’t wait to hear your thoughts !!

Heyyy, I'm happy to put the hotchgan vibes out there! A lot of my regulars have moved on to other fandoms or are taking much needed breaks from these spaces so it's feeling very lonely out here. I need the hotchgan like I need air. lol Thank you for indulging me! And always being there to shove me into a fun story!

1. Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’?

Man, I could really see it going both ways but god...just imagine it's Hotch. They haven't said I love you yet. There are plenty of things he does that just piss Derek off (and rightly so)...things that they're ready to go to blows over, even. And Hotch makes a decision that Derek doesn't like and finally, in a moment of pure desperation, Derek just says "WHY?!" and Hotch without even thinking says "Because I love you" and that's it. There's no more argument. Because what can Derek say to that? Mr. Repressed just verbal vomited in the sweetest most pathetic way.

2. What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare?

Okay. That fic needs to happen ASAP. I'll work on it tonight with a glass of wine and see if I can make it happen. I really love it, but my writing has been trash lately. BUT LET'S TALK ABOUT IT. Derek is hands on, he's going to try and soothe Hotch. He's going to hold him or run his hands through his hair, he's going to be physical as long as Hotch wants it. (And he does. I think we've established that this man is touch-starved.) Hotch on the other hand, he's more of an acts of service kind of guy. He's going to ask Derek if he wants to talk about it, he's going to get him a glass of water or a snack or ask if he wants to talk. I don't want to get too much more into detail because I'll dip into the story I'm writing for you. I will say, the direction I took is unexpected I think...which is why I'm struggling. I can't just fall into my usual comfort zone. And that's a good thing but harder to write when words are a challenge.

26. What are their vices? (Specifically in their relationship)

Ohhhh...I love vices. LOVE THEM. First of all, they're both so similar so one thing I think they both do is try to be in control at first. I can see Derek thinking he's helping, Hotch has to be in control at work so much that he feels like he's helping if he plans the date night or takes charge of weekend plans. And it isn't that Hotch minds that, he's totally fine with it, but if they both think the same thing? If they both try to plan the weekend without talking to the other? Things can get a little hairy. Lots of mixed up plans, rescheduling, apologies after hotly debated pros and cons for each plan and a big calendar posted on the freezer to help keep them on the same page.

Now, as far as different vices - I think Hotch is an over planner and Derek is very spontaneous, which can cause some friction. Vacations especially could be problematic. At home, I think that Hotch is a little messy and Derek is a bit of a neat freak (though their cars may tell a different story). Hotch is reserved and doesn't speak up when he's sick or hurt or might need to talk, which drives Derek insane. Hotch will suffer in silence until his insomnia kicks in, until he's awake all night, until Derek notices that he hasn't come to bed. "Do you need to talk?" he'll ask when he smells the coffee at 4am. Meanwhile, Derek takes his frustrations out on household projects instead of talking, so Hotch has to find out that Derek is struggling by coming home to the kitchen sink being ripped apart because of an irritating little drip. "Did you have a bad day?" Hotch asks as Derek rips the p-trap out from under the sink...the p-trap that has nothing to do with the little washer that needed replacing in the faucet to stop the drip...because he's moved on to a clog or something else now.

Communication is not a strong suit for either of them, which is a hilarious thing to say about a couple of FBI Agents with law degrees. LOL At work they're masterful, but with one another? Well...it's a learning curve. But the kissing is good and everything else can take its time, they have their whole lives to figure it out.

want me to talk about hotchgan? i will...at length...and hey, if you don't vibe with those questions, ask some of your own. i'll talk about them all day.

[raspberry-and-friends]

“Danger is my middle name. Once I’m old enough, nopony can stop me from changing it—hahah!”

“He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s anxious in practically every space...”

“Sometimes, the best thing you can do is stop and smell the roses. After all, you never know when they’ll wilt... which is a more ‘poetic’ way of saying: ‘Be Gay, Do Crimes.’”

Names: Juniper Ashe Sparkle-Dash, Swan Song Belle-Lane-Stripes, and Ginger Blossom Apple

Nickname(s): June, Ashe, and Junebug (Juniper Ashe), Swan and Dove (Swan Song), Ginger and Blossom (Ginger Blossom)

Species: Dragon/pegasus hybrid, unicorn, and earth pony

Sexualities: Aroace, heterosexual, and lesbian

Ages: 12 (Juniper Ashe and Ginger Blossom) and 11 (Swan Song)

Parents: Scootaloo Dash (FtM) and Friendship Ambassador Spike Sparkle (Juniper Ashe), Sweetie Belle, Rumble Lane, and Tender Taps Stripes (Swan Song), Apple Bloom Apple, Mayor Diamond Dazzle Tiara Apple, and Professor Tiddlywink Apple (MtF Pipsqueak) (Ginger Blossom)

Sibling(s): N/A

Headcanons and disclaimers below the cut 👇👇

Personality:

Juniper Ashe: Athletic, quick-witted, brave, determined (they won’t take “no” for an answer, that’s for damn sure), and a total daredevil.

Swan Song: Shy, gentle, methodical, intelligent (he aces almost every test he takes), and organized (which doesn’t often go over well when it comes to his... clumsy friends).

Ginger Blossom: Energetic, spontaneous, extroverted, adventurous (like Juniper, she’s unafraid of most anything that gets in her way), and quick to learning unfamiliar athletic hobbies.

Flaws:

Juniper Ashe: Headstrong, loud, destructive (a very tony bull in a china shop), has little-to-no common sense whatsoever, and will often go behind their parents’ backs for nothing more than a cheap thrill or two.

Swan Song: Antisocial, emotional, a push-over, has a minor speech impediment that makes interacting with others increasingly difficult, and, because of his inability to say no to most things, prone to tagging along in dangerous situations with his so-called “besties”.

Ginger Blossom: Impulsive, dangerously competitive, messy, crass (how does she even know so many swear words???), and either the best or worst teammate you’ll ever have. Blossom is prone to both stabbing her peers in the back or becoming the most loyal companion a foal could ask for.

Special Talents: Competitive speed-skating, piano playing, and buckball (specifically the “attacker” position)

Cutie Mark Stories: WIP, though I’ll probably never get around to finishing them tbh.

Bases by SelenaEde

***DISCLAIMER: In this AU, The princesses DIDN’T hand off their powers to Twilight, and still remain the primary rulers of Equestria during the course of this story. The illustrations and writing (the latter of which has since been revised to fix previously missed grammatical errors and to more closely align with my current headcanons) were done back in 2020-2021 and posted to my now-inactive DeviantArt account. The signature ‘Hun’ reflects the name I went by at the time, Hunter.***

[watchtowerindistress]

we are not our demons (22/24) - bruce wayne x batmom

Gif source: oscarspoe

Author’s note: Believe it or not, I'm currently glancing at the plot layout for this series and I'm on the last page. I fear I'm getting an emotional breakdown as soon as I'm writing Chapter 24 because I know I want to speed things up but on the other hand, I'm afraid of getting to the end.

I really like the plot of this chapter, so you know fluffy Batfam is happening! Those emotional scenes with Tim were kinda spontaneous and gave me the chance to have Ellie talk about her own backstory.

Yes, I know what I wrote in We are not our masks - that I didn't mention her father dying. I didn't want to update that prequel chapter because I didn't want to confuse readers for the second series, the way I keep revising stuff. I thought it'd be nice to delve into her past like this. [See you at the end.]

Beta-read by Heidi.

Words: 5.0k

Warning: fluff, trauma

Please reblog/leave a comment.

Series Masterlist | Want to be tagged? | Read on AO3

You’re the keeper, protector

It is you that holds us together

When everything else fails us

It is you that holds us together

- Hold Us Together by H.E.R. -

“Do I need to speak to you about earned privileges?”

Ellie just minded her business of nursing her cup of black tea to get through the day while Alfred had been silently doing his chores. An action he accomplished with a stewing quality. It was such a novel experience to enjoy the beams of sunlight dancing over the crystalline water and refract into the hallway of the foyer.

That was until he abruptly turned around and let a steely gaze burn through her.

She lifted the mug to her lips and sighed audibly. “Bruce said you were mad that I didn’t tell you, so you could join in on the violence,” Ellie mentioned almost casually.

The older butler pointed a condemning finger at her. “That’s one of the reasons, but let’s ignore that for a bit.” Alfred splayed his fingers on the kitchen island in front of him. A kitchen towel attached between his fingertips.

“I’m offended on behalf of Master Bruce since he doesn’t seem to be. It’s not the fact that you abused your prerogatives and took a specific weapon from the cave, but that you picked Joker’s crowbar.”

A worried glint seized Alfred’s gaze. “Do you realize how twisted that notion truly sounds?”

All of a sudden, Ellie felt fatigue take over her body when her shoulders drooped. “I do. I just wanted to cause him the same pain and I know how messed up it sounds that I used that murder weapon. We all have been suffering, and it was just too much. First Babs and now Damian. I’m sorry, Alfred.”

He sent her a concerned glance when he leaned forward. “You’re not alone anymore in this. You know this, don’t you?”

Ellie nodded her head in acceptance of his comforting words. “No more solo runs,” she promised before she regained her chutzpah. “I never used the crowbar on him, if it’s any consolation.”

Alfred arched a knowing eyebrow. “Disappointed you didn’t?”

“Maybe just a little bit.” Ellie smirked lightly. “Wow, I really don’t want to ever get on your bad side, huh?”

Just like that, Alfred’s teasing glint returned. “It would certainly not be in your best interest.”

Ellie snorted in agreement. Her face contorted slightly once she reached for her morning cup and let the warm liquid flow down her throat.

“Good morning,” a soft voice mumbled under his breath.

Ellie slowly turned her head to find Tim climbing next to her left on the bar stool. “Hey, you,” she softly ruffled the messy hair on his head, finally succumbing to that urge. It was comforting to know that Tim didn’t jolt away from her touch and smiled shyly in return.

“So, I was thinking, we could do something nice today.” Ellie sent him an inquisitive glance over her shoulder while the dark-haired boy prepared himself to a light breakfast of French Toast and poured a generous amount of blueberry sauce over it.

Young Tim glimpsed at Ellie with curious yet hesitant eyes—an expression he seemed to have picked up from his father. “Like what?”

Ellie kept a soft and mysterious smile on her face while shrugging her shoulders. “That’s a surprise. You’ll see it soon.”

His lips thinned at that mention and grumbled slowly with a nervous air, “I don’t really like surprises.”

Alfred, who had been quiet and observant until now, decided to speak up with a velvety voice, “It’s alright, Master Tim. You’re probably going to like it if Miss Ellie has got something prepared just for you.”

Tim’s features were still hesitant, but he no longer seemed reluctant. That was a start, at least. “Okay.”

An energy of pure excitement streamed through her body at his consent. “It’s going to be fun, I promise.” Ellie jutted her jaw at the prospect of their day together. “Now eat up, and I’ll see if I can get Damian to come with. You know, make a day of it together. As long as he wakes up. He’s been … sleeping in.” She frowned in bewilderment once that suspicion finally hit her.

Tim nodded slowly and smiled barely. “Okay.”

Ellie smirked shrewdly and glanced at him a few more seconds before she chewed on her milk-soaked cornflakes. Absent-mindedly, she hid her astray hair strands behind her left ear and sent Alfred a small grateful smile for his input.

Tim’s meek voice came out of nowhere. “Does it hurt?”

Ellie’s head jumped in the air when the worried undertone touched her senses. Her spoon clung to her lips in shock. Once realization hit her, shamed warmth invaded her insides. Her bruised cheek and forehead were on full display like that, with nothing to hide behind. Ellie cleared her throat and sent Alfred an alarmed gaze who had stilled in surprise. Another wince left her lips when her hand reached for her cup, feeling the movement deep in her sore muscles.

“The dangers of Gotham, Timmy,” she whispered with regret. Ellie tried for some teasing humor, not wanting to taint the boy with any of this. “Trust me, you should see the other guy.” As much as her features tensed from her quirked lips.

“I know what you did yesterday,” Tim whispered back like he was sharing a secret with her. “If Alfred knows it’s only a matter of time until everyone else does.”

A long sigh released from her mouth once she resigned to her fate. Alfred cleared his throat at his intuition being praised like that. Her shoulders slumped in defeat before she sent him a cautious glance. “You have a high intellect, don’t you?”

Tim shrugged, as if he didn’t really care in the end or simply was a humble guy who didn’t want to seem arrogant with that advantage. Her instinct was telling her a bit of both. “Damian used to say my high genius intellect is one of the reasons why I was chosen as the perfect candidate for this family.”

Ellie’s eyebrows rose in the air and a frown formed on her forehead. “I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a compliment,” she muttered slowly.

Alfred leaned forward and lowered his voice in concern. “Master Bruce chose to be your adoptive father because he wanted to take care of you after what happened to the Drakes.”

Ellie’s eyes swerved over to Alfred in a questioning glance, who subtly shook his head not to delve deeper yet. She decided to heed his cue, especially after Tim’s desolate shrug broke Ellie’s heart.

“If you say so.”

Deep affection was heard in the butler’s low timbre. “Master Bruce couldn’t be prouder to have a young man such as you as a son. You are everything he strives for Gotham—to aspire for a city filled with hope. A new beginning.”

As though he was encouraged by those words, Tim slowly lifted his head and let warmth exude from those shining green-golden eyes. Being rendered speechless wasn’t something Ellie would have associated with the likes of him.

A serene smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Sounds like that ‘unofficial’ speech Bruce used to give me for the reconstruction of Gotham Zoo.” She lowered her fingers once she had recalled that off-the-cuff keynote that was all Bruce.

The corners of Alfred’s eyes drew familiar wrinkles while he huffed with laughter. It didn’t take long before he was joined by Tim’s light chuckles. “I’m not going to sue Master Wayne for plagiarism, don’t you worry.”

“Alfred, can I continue eating my breakfast in front of the TV?” Tim asked politely with wide curious eyes.

Alfred nodded earnestly. “Proceed, Master Tim.”

Sliding off his chair, Tim carried his plate over to the living room that housed the TV. A kids show echoed in the background from around the corner where Alfred and Ellie had a clear view of Tim eating his meal.

Her eyes were carefully riveted on Tim while she fixated her attention on what Alfred confessed. “Something I need to know about, Alfred?”

Alfred took in a regretful breath, whispering barely audibly, “How much did Master Bruce tell you about Tim’s family?”

Ellie nervously licked her lips at Alfred’s phrasing of words. “I’m really starting to feel some anxiety every time someone starts a sentence like that around here.” She pondered long and hard before the memory of Bruce sharing his secret of having several adopted children entered her mind. Ellie frowned deeply once the mention of Tim came forth.

“Both of his parents died when he was still a child,” Ellie mumbled under her breath almost with a stunned impact.

Alfred scratched his chin in contemplation. “Master Tim’s parents were one of the most influential people of Gotham before they were kidnapped in the Caribbean. Jack and Janet Drake were poisoned. Master Wayne tried to save them as Batman, but he was already too late. He found Mrs. Drake dead upon his arrival, while Timothy’s father was on life support. He died one week later. Tim was about six years old when Bruce decided to take him in as a beloved son.”

All of a sudden, her chin felt too heavy when she supported it in the palm of her hand, as she, like always, felt her heart suffering for Tim. “Did Bruce know them before their death?”

“Barely. Master Bruce just wanted to help since no one was benevolent enough to take in a young orphan who was too withdrawn for their liking. It was difficult for Tim to adapt to this new life.”

Out of nowhere, a fond smile appeared. “As much as Jason at the time wasn’t interested in caring for others, he took him in. Looked after him like a big brother. They both looked after each other. And then … Jason was torn from us.” Alfred took in a ragged breath as he paused in reflection. “You can imagine how much this can take a toll on someone who lost everyone in his life already.”

Humming under her breath, Ellie could feel a morose sensation well up inside her.

Almost like Alfred wanted to shake off the mood taking over, his voice sounded hopeful. “I do hope the three of you have a lovely day together.”

Ellie still felt grateful for the vote of confidence despite feeling drained from the conversation already—and she didn’t even have her therapy session yet. “Thanks, Alfred.”

“How’s the arm feeling?” Ellie swung the small shopping basket in her left hand while her head was tilted towards Damian whose arm was twitching at his waist. Almost like it impatiently wanted to spring out of its splint.

Damian kept his gaze averted from her and instead looked to the dotted floor of the grocery store. He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. Damian was walking beside her on her right side while Tim went ahead in the aisle with peaked curiosity.

It was kind of adorable how the young boy was inspecting the products on the higher shelves on his tiptoes.

“It’s alright, I guess,” Damian mumbled, barely even moving his lips when he spoke.

Trying for a different approach, Ellie bowed her head in the hopes of him finally looking at her. “You know, I’ve never had a broken arm, but I imagine it must be pretty uncomfortable in there.”

“It could be worse.”

Someone was behaving utterly strange.

“Who are you? Huh, someone’s not pessimistic for a change, who’d have thought?” Ellie stated in wonder.

Simultaneously, Damian rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. “So, what are we here for?” That reaction was at least something.

Ellie’s eyes caught Tim standing off at a distance. “Tim, don’t wander off,” she called out towards him and waved him over. Not soon after that he was standing next to her again when Ellie stopped in front of the baking section. “So, it’s the weekend and I thought it’d be nice to do some baking. Not to mention how this guy,” her thumb pointed at Damian before she continued, “needs some cheering up.”

“I don’t,” Damian grumbled under his breath.

“It’s like I told you, cookies can make you feel better. That still applies to any baked goods whatsoever. Let’s just help me out in the kitchen, okay? Let me do something nice for you for a change, Damian.”

Frowning in bewilderment, he merely kept quiet when Ellie continued, “You can still help to a certain degree. So, why don’t you guys tell me what you want in your cupcakes, since that’s what we’re making together, and we’ll make some magic happen today?”

Tim bit his lip and gazed at her pleadingly with his head tilted back. “Anything?”

“Well, we need baking decor, don’t we? Both of you have a say in it. I need to buy muffin forms anyway. You tell me which flavor you want and each of you picks one packet of sprinkles, and we’ll do a half and half. Deal?”

Nibbling on his thumb in deep consideration, Tim confessed in a whisper, “I like blueberries,” as he anxiously eyed the collection in front of them.

“Lemon,” Damian instantly interjected and glared fiercely at his brother for daring to gain the upper hand against him.

“Easy, Dami,” Ellie soothed with a humming quality. She barely noticed his eyes looking directly at her. “Why don’t we just do both? More variety for everyone involved. Now, let’s just pick some sweet treats.”

It was interesting to see those two boys working together—to a certain degree at least—as they carried their shopping bags towards the trunk of Ellie’s car. When Damian wasn’t trying to one-up his brother.

Baking with them actually felt like some sort of group project. Tim was the perfect partner and taste taster while Damian was diligently pressing the juice out of the lemon.

“Here, let me hold this for you,” Ellie offered, so Damian could focus all his attention on the yellow fruit while she braced the plastic against the kitchen island.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, barely audible under his breath.

Almost in shock, Ellie’s head twisted around. There were still miracles happening in this world, she thought.

Damian didn’t let that deter him when his razor-sharp gaze focused on the juice squeezing out of the flesh.

Astonishment lit up her features when Ellie’s brows lifted high on her forehead. “Oh wow, I forgot how perfectionist you took everything, Damian.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he grumbled before he was finally done and jumped down from his stool.

“Okay, you can wash your hands now.”

Damian didn’t even make a fuss when he wandered behind her towards the sink. Ellie’s gaze studied Tim’s craftsmanship when he used two teaspoons to place the batter into the paper forms.

“Remember, only half of it. It’s going to double in size before you know it.” To illustrate her point, Ellie shaped her hands into an explosion, sound effects included.

Tim nodded his head in agreement as small blue lumps were visible in the yummy batter.

“Done,” he surmised happily.

“Wonderful. Great work, guys.” Ellie lifted her hand and patiently waited for Tim to give her a hesitant high-five.

Damian started stirring his lemon mixture with powdered sugar when he mumbled, “I already started with the topping.”

Ellie sent him a reproachful glare. “Hush, you. This is not a competition. This is Tim’s first time and I’m so proud of you.” She leaned down to face him at eye-level before her gaze met Damian’s. “Both of you.” Excitedly, Ellie clapped her hands. “Now we can get started.”

If Damian was a perfectionist before, Ellie had no idea how to describe this phase he was in now. Both boys had their own batch of finished cupcakes to take care of while they sprinkled their colorful treats on top of their thick coating. Ellie silently observed Damian’s meticulous execution while footsteps inched closer. Her hands were still on her hips when she turned her head and met the blue eyes of Dick lighting up once he discovered what the boys were doing in the kitchen.

“Oh sweet, cupcakes. That’s just what I needed after that debriefing.”

“Anything important happening?”

“Not really, but we’ll keep you updated tonight.”

Ellie nodded and tilted her head in sympathy when something else caught her attention. “You still need to wait about thirty minutes though until it sets.”

A tormented groan left Dick’s mouth. He slung his arm over her shoulder, squeezing her briefly. “The way you keep torturing me, Ellie.” Dick’s upper body leaned forward to watch Tim and Damian silently decorate.

He pursed his lips. “Huh, who knew that you boys had some hidden talent?”

Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Really? Tim’s a natural here. Damian’s just his microscopic self, pursuing his dream of being a pastry chef.”

Almost like was spurned by that incentive, Damian grumbled, “Done.”

Tim’s quiet whisper followed soon after. “Yep, same here.”

Ellie’s mouth opened in fascination. She touched Tim’s and Damian’s shoulder blades in deep admiration while she was inspecting their colorful cupcakes. “They’re like works of art. So proud of you, boys.”

Looking up at Ellie, Tim’s green eyes were glowing with softness. Dick’s hum rumbled in his chest before his breath hit the side of her head, and whispered, “Good job by the way.”

For some reason, it felt like there could be some other meaning to his words. That Dick didn’t exactly mean her spending time with the kids.

As soon as Dick’s stomach started growling menacingly, Ellie decided it was time for some afternoon buffet with coffee and dessert treats. She joined Dick’s action by sipping on her coffee in the kitchen, with Tim and Damian flanked at her side.

Ellie watched the young boys try their cupcakes. “And what’s the verdict?”

Tim was still munching on his small blueberry cupcake before he nodded with a mumbled, “’s great.”

Damian’s legs were rocking back on forth when he nodded without words in agreement.

Ellie turned her head at the sound of someone rubbing their hands together. “Coffee and cakes?” Alfred’s voice said from afar. Bruce wasn’t that far behind from the butler when the older man’s eyes were glowing with anticipation. “Miss Ellie, you could have told us there was food waiting for us.”

Ellie shrugged her shoulders teasingly. “It’s like you said, it was just waiting for you in the meantime.”

Dick took a long gulp from his black coffee. As soon as his father was within reach, he nudged his cup towards his younger brother, and spoke, “Bruce, why don’t you ask the boys who made these little treats?”

He stopped in front of the kitchen island and oversaw the desserts for the taking. A confused frown made itself known when he faced Tim and Damian with a small hum. “Did you guys make this?” Bruce asked with a half-surprised tone. He poured himself a cup of black coffee before he sat down next to Ellie around the corner.

The quiet and apprehensive nods of Tim and Damian followed his question. Bruce’s head turned until he was facing Ellie again as an expression of curiosity took over.

“And? How did they make themselves?”

A smile formed on Ellie’s lips at that. “Like I told Dick, both were perfect. For his first time, Tim was actually pretty good in the kitchen. And despite a broken arm, Damian baked like he did everything else, with a scrutinizing and precise eye.”

Bruce pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in astonished pride. Alfred tilted his head with a smirk as he held his cup in the air. “Affirming words of judgment. It looks like I know now who to turn to who can help me out in the kitchen for future references.”

Smirking with delight, Ellie hummed when she took a bite from the creamy cupcake. It felt utterly comfortable just sitting together, eating and talking.

Dick tried out one of Damian’s treats. “We should do this more often. More rituals like these could be nice, you know?”

Smiling softly, the notion sent a warm sensation to her stomach. Alfred appreciated Dick’s shared opinion. “I do like the way you think, Master Dick.”

Ellie’s concern seeped through her pores when she slowly advanced towards where Tim was sitting. “Everything alright, Tim?” She found the dark-haired boy resting on the couch in the living room and joined him instead. “You just wandered off like that. Are you good?”

The semblance of a smile etched on the corners of his lips as a shrug carried through his shoulders. Tim thumbed the cupcake wrapper, which was still on the plate on his knee, almost forgotten.

“I just wanted some alone time.”

Ellie smiled fondly at his confession. “You sound a lot like Bruce or Damian there. You want me to leave you alone right now? It’s okay if you say yes. I won’t take it personally. Trust me, I get the feeling of just … needing some solitude.”

Again, Tim shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Deciding that she was still welcome, Ellie leaned back. “Just let me know. I’m here if you want to talk, or if you want me to just listen. No judgment here, Timmy.”

At last, Tim silently peeled back the wrapper and tore off a chunk of the bottom half of the dish. Pensively, he chewed on the fluffy food. “Today was fun.”

Ellie felt touched when she sent him an appreciative smile. “My pleasure. I wanted to do something nice for you, guys. I realized it’s important not to neglect the little things in life.”

“I’m grateful,” Tim assured her before he swallowed. “Today just made me remember something else.”

Ellie tilted her head in apprehension once his words reached her. “Such as? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Tim paused in thought. “When my parents died…” Nervously, Ellie glanced at him sideways with bated breath while her heart was thudding in her chest.

“I was at home with the housekeeper to look after me. She had just made me crumble cake when the news of my parents’ kidnapping hit. The thing is I’ve always been alone.” His shoulders twitched before he continued, “Over time you get used to it. Honestly, I’m starting to forget how my mom’s and my dad’s faces look like.”

Tim’s breath hitched the more he talked about his murdered family, forcing Ellie to frown with sympathy. Reluctantly, he admitted, “That … crumble cake, I have a more distinct memory of that pastry than my own family.”

Thickness lodged into her throat as soon as his personal tragedy came to light. “I wish I knew what to tell you that would make you feel better, that would take that weight off your shoulders. All you can do is honor their memory as best as you can.”

A dejected humming noise reverberated from his pressed lips. Ellie swallowed thickly when she pushed through her own memories of losing her family. “You know, I was a child too when I lost my parents,” she whispered with a raspy voice, inching closer for some privacy.

There was a part of her that believed reliving her own traumatic past could help Tim come to terms with his own. It tended to be something truly cathartic to share one’s tragedy with someone who could relate.

Tim anxiously gazed at her through his eyelashes. “How did you lose them?”

Ellie took long, jittery breaths now as a strained smile drew on her lips. “When I was about seven, my mom shot my dad. She was sent to Arkham and my dad to prison for illegal hacking activities.”

Her upper body moved with every shaking breath. “The world is a cruel place, Tim. And Arkham at the time wasn’t the place it is now. She couldn’t bear this life any longer and my dad … he got killed in a prison riot a few years later. We all are orphans here. We all lost someone in life. But that doesn’t mean we have to endure this life alone.” Tears were shining in her eyes, but at least every breath felt cleansing in her lungs.

“Do you remember what they looked like?” Tim murmured under his breath.

“I don’t remember my mom. Or what she looked like. Only the expression of betrayal on her face. And my father … his eyes were the last thing I can recall as he looked at me through those cracked glasses. It’s not the good kind to remember though.”

The plate made a clanging sound when Tim dropped it on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes were downcast before he mumbled, “I feel guilty for leaving their memory behind like this.”

“I understand why you’re feeling this way. I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. Only to find the right balance. Just because you want to make new memories doesn’t mean to leave the old ones behind.”

“New memories?” Tim inquired in a subdued manner.

Ellie nodded, waving her hands in her lap. “At your own pace.”

“I’ll try. Can I ask for a favor?”

“Sure. Anything you want, Tim.”

Wide, green eyes were staring up at her pleadingly before he whispered, “Could you hug me, please?”

A kind-hearted, but affected smile played on her lips while she felt herself getting emotional all of a sudden. Her eyes were glistening when she nodded her head. “Gotta warn you though, I keep those hugs at least five seconds long.”

Tim laughed shakily. “That’s okay,” he said before wrapping his small arms around her body. His head hid in her neck while his arms tightened around her.

“Can we do at least ten seconds?” Tim mumbled against her shoulder.

Teary laughter could be heard from her throat. “Whatever you want, Timmy.”

The small smile on her therapist’s face greeted Ellie as soon as she accepted the video call with the push of the green button. “Good afternoon, Ellie. Thanks for being able to manage our appointment like this.”

“It’s okay, I understand. Never expected to experience the day of Blüdhaven in lockdown, not to mention receiving a terror warning.” Just thinking about it felt truly terrifying. Ellie huffed in incredulity as soon as that thought hit her out of nowhere again.

Dr. Foster sighed deeply. “It is what it is. All we can do is adapt. It’s what we’re known for. Did you have any issues with the video application?”

She shook her head in denial before she explained, “No, it’s alright. I’m just glad that we could do our session like this.”

With that, Ellie’s therapist opened her trusted notepad when she replied, “Wonderful. So, let’s start our therapy session. Tell me about the typical day of Elizabeth Rhodes. Walk me through your daily rituals. I’m guessing you’ve gotten used to them by now?”

Ellie nodded, agreeing with her. “The usual, I guess. Breakfast and caffeine. Then I go to work, look at some ones and zeroes. About five or six, I get back home. Maybe some takeout or I heat up some frozen food.” It wasn’t that hard any longer to conceal her nightly rituals in the cave.

“Any special routines you included?”

“I’m making lists as you recommended.” Ellie waved her notebook around in front of her webcam before she placed it back on her desk. “It’s actually quite practical and insightful to keep track of things.”

She licked her lips in thought. “Maybe the fact that I prepare any dinner at all. Sometimes it’s hard putting in the effort.”

“As long as you know your limits. It can’t hurt to try at least.” Dr. Foster’s gaze focused on her again. “But how does it make you feel ‘putting in the extra effort?’” The dark-skinned woman quoted with her fingers.

A tired sigh left Ellie at that question. “It doesn’t feel worth the effort. I mean, I can put it on the list at the end of the day what I’m thankful for, but to me, it’s not as tedious if I just lean back and relax.”

“Understandably,” Dr. Foster uttered with lips pulling upwards. “In that case, why don’t you prepare something over the weekend in bulk and just heat it up? Would that interest you?”

Ellie tilted her head and gave it some contemplation. “Yes, I think I could try that. See how that works over the next few weeks.”

“Wonderful.” The woman in front of her took some notes of their intention before she leaned forward again. “Looks like we already covered my next question. Now we’ve got some goals for the next four weeks. I think it’s great how you’ve embraced that notebook. Those lists in your journal might be useful for many other things. If there’s something else that you could think of, just write that down.”

Dr. Foster looked at something over Ellie’s shoulder. “We’re getting close to the end of our talk. Is there anything else on your mind?”

Ellie gnawed on her lower lip. “That close friend I talked about, Babs, I’ve recently seen her again.”

“The one who was paralyzed after that assaulting incident?” She inquired and as soon as she detected Ellie’s silent nod, continued, “How is she?”

Ellie breathed slowly in and out. “She’s on the road to recovery. It’s been hard for her.”

“And what about you? Her condition and the nature of that attack has been hard for you too.”

Feeling her breathing hitch, Ellie admitted, “It feels like I can finally breathe again.”

“And how about that anger of yours? You still feeling resentful?”

Ellie spoke slowly. “No. If anything, I managed to deal with those issues. After all, they were my own, and misguided in some ways. I see that now.”

“That’s good to hear.” Dr. Foster shared a small smile with her. “I like the process we’ve made so far. Although, we need to cut this short now. If there’s anything on your mind, you know my number. You can message me anytime. Until then, take care.”

A/N: As I was working on Tim's backstory, I realized that his mother was poisoned and his father paralyzed for a time. I kept racking my brain how to kill Jack Drake when I read my prequel and praised the fact that I killed his parents when he was a kid - thank GOD! 🥲

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath​ @ravenmoore14​ @alwayshave-faith​ @ikranfuad​ @daydreaming-gemini​ @bluegalaxyprime​ @liadamerondjarin​ @steph21369 @andrewswifes-blog​  @yanna-banana​  @blackmagicwoman

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

Stupid fanfic asks part 3/3 @candle-lion “all divisible by 3”

69: how do you write emotional scenes? do you ever feel what the characters feel?

First of all, nice. Second of all, music music music. I have to have some emotional music to write to. I would say I occasionally feel what the characters feel, especially when I relate to whatever thing is going through their head

72: what do you do if a scene gets too serious?

Not sure what this means necessarily. I think I’m pretty good at keeping my serious scenes the right amount of serious and my not serious scenes not serious. I guess if it happened, try to add some witty line to lighten the mood? But usually if I want it serious, I want it serious, ya know?

75: do you know how your story ends before you start writing?

About half of the time. Run away was started spontaneously with no end in mind. Same with so are you with me? But a lot of the others were planned. Sometimes I change my mind halfway through too. I call it the ADHD way of writing

78: how do you choose where to end a chapter?

If the word count is long enough to feel satisfying and I feel I have closed the scene at a satisfying point, I’ll end it. Sometimes I’ll end on a cliffhanger for the fun of it or dramatic effect

81: if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

Don’t burn yourself out. It’s okay to take your time. Your work will end up better anyway! I used to be so bad about publishing whatever I had written IMMEDIATELY for that dopamine rush of validation (both in my Wattpad middle schooler days and beginning run away). Editing and sitting on my writing a bit before posting has helped its quality and my confidence. Plus writing burnout sucks ass. I love to write, and burning myself out is a quick way to change that

84: said: overused or underused?

Depends on the writer. I think I underuse it in an effort not to overuse it lmfao

87: does your writing style change depending on the genre you write?

I think it does, but not necessarily consciously. I tend to lean into different imagery and metaphors depending on the thing I’m writing. I think it’s most noticeable in like,,, the difference between there in the garden with some of the darker, gothic imagery, vs so are you with me? with lighter stuff, sunlight, etc etc. I emphasize different things too

90: do you notice your own voice in your writing style?

Oh one of my biggest fears is not having a unique writing voice. I don’t think mine is strong by any means, but I think it’s there

93: do you hear other people’s writing styles when they talk?

Only with my irl best friend. I think the more you know someone, the easier it is to pick up on those consistencies between writing voice and speaking voice, but I don’t talk to most writers I know enough to hear it, and I don’t think our Discord/Tumblr convos are super reflective of our writing

96: romantic/social sideplots: interesting or irritating?

Depends. Fuck off with your love triangles (unless they’re true triangles). I love a good messy romantic or other social side plot

99: was being a writer a dream of yours when you were little? or did it spring up when your older? or is it just a hobby? 

It was!! I’ve always loved reading and it translated to loving writing too. I don’t think I could make a career of it, I don’t think I’m famous author material between my skill level and the fact that having to have books out would become a chore. But! I would love to have published books still. I think it’d be fun to be a PhD’d microbiology researcher who also happens to have a few silly queer novels published on the side

[thefreewind]

To the one who deserves a confession but I will never do so ~

As I listen to Chinese music melodies on Youtube at 12 damn midnight, I am writing this piece of messy train of thoughts as a way to celebrate the person that you are and to finally start moving on.

You barely existed in my life until a little less than two months ago. I still barely know you, and I know I will never get the opportunity to do so further anymore now that we’re apart and are individually about to thrive on new ventures. Nevertheless, despite the short time spent together, you made quite a big impact on my life… unexpectedly and something I will never forget. At least not anytime soon.

All I want to say is thank you. Thank you for so many things. For closing the classroom window when I complained it was cold. For still agreeing to having lunch together despite being tired and sleepy. For helping me with the food during our meal moments, which only happened twice but made me genuinely smile from ear to ear. For saying yes to taking pictures despite it being something you absolutely hate. For all the compliments that gave me confidence. For the times I said I was hungry and you had nothing to offer but still jokingly offered water. And for considering me as your type and ideal woman to marry. You were one of the last people I ever expected to share these moments with, but oh well, life can be great at giving plot twists like this… and that was you for me.

ニハウオ、I honestly genuinely came to like you. I just have to get this out of my chest because the overflowing feeling is driving me crazy. I came to like you but it’s a little too late. I came to like you at the wrong time. I came to like you but I shouldn’t. I came to like you but I can’t do anything about it. It’s for the best, but a part of me feels something wrong doing the right thing.

I wanted to get this feeling out of me once and for all by telling you personally then start moving on, but I realized I didn’t have the guts to admit it to you; never was the brave one and never will. So I gave it my all through my parting handwritten letter. Though I gave everyone the same stuff I gave to you, I hope you know that yours was the longest letter and it took time to write. I hope you caught a glimpse of how I truly felt about you, no matter how subtle I tried to make it seem. I also hope that at some point you are aware that your bracelet was the only one with red heart beads in it with a silver accessory and how I was smiling when I was making it. I wanted to make it a bit different for a special person that is you.

This confession is getting longer now… but I’m letting my thoughts and emotions flow spontaneously as this will be the last time. I just want you to know that ever since you opened up your feelings to me, you have always been in my mind. And that if only you confessed a lot sooner, there might have been a chance of us becoming more than friends. I honestly shortly considered the idea of us and now it gives me a little heartache that it won’t ever happen in this lifetime.

I miss your presence already, though we didn’t really talk a lot in class when we had the chance. I miss your voice and the times you laughed. I miss your smiles that lit up the room, especially if they were for me. I miss the times I would feel you looking at me from my peripheral vision. I even miss seeing you sleep and asking if you were okay and the reassuring nods you would give as a response. I miss that happy look on your face when you were watching me eat once during lunch. I miss watching you dash out of the room once class ended because you didn’t want to get stuck on the stairs with everyone. I miss watching you from far behind as you headed home, with only that Burton backpack in sight. I miss feeling a little sad and letting out a sigh once you turned left on the road and was out of sight…every…damn…school…day. I miss the cute winks that you gave me and how I tried to act nonchalant. I miss that pinky finger promise for an after-graduation travel that we made, even though it was not fulfilled. I miss a lot of things about you.

If by any miracle you come across this post, I know you will immediately realize that it’s about you through the photos attached. If it happens, I hope you feel how much I valued the times we spent together and how you were such a good friend to me and made me feel all sorts of things.

As I finish this letter, I want you to know that you mean a lot to me. However, I will already start moving on upon my awakening. I will archive any group photos with you and I in them to Drive. I will still hope I receive a message from you until I no longer yearn for it. I will still think about you until I genuinely don’t want to anymore. I want to look back on this someday when I have fully recovered and laugh and smile about this crazy little thing called love.

If we ever meet again, I hope to be able to speak Chinese to you confidently. Though my goal for learning your native language is for career opportunities, you are the main reason why I decided to study it in the first place. 谢谢 for the inspiration.

If life gives me the opportunity to cross paths with you again, I hope to see you happy and not lonely. I hope you find someone who you can trust and doesn’t break their promises to you and vice versa. I hope you are well in health and in your career. I hope I see the same smile and twinkling eyes that I love about you. I hope to hear your laugh again. I just really hope for your genuine happiness in whatever form it may be.

As you wrote in the yearbook, the most important thing is to look forward. With that, I look forward to what life has in store for us and meeting you again, with nothing but gratitude in my heart that you once became a fleeting (yet lasting at the same time) part of my life.

Take care always, my dear friend.

From the girl you called GU

2024.03.26

[ristoranteivorykeys]

your kisses with him – headcanon

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭: valentines kisses ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌ ft. heartslabyul, savanaclaw, and octavinelle

╰┈➤ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: noooo what do you mean i’m ignoring my requests for indulgent writings, what are you talking about–– shot but in all seriousness, happy valentines day!! i wanted to experiment a little with this type of writing since i felt like doing my usual format for hcs won’t be able to convey what i really want to convey, if that makes sense. originally, i was supposed to do for all student characters, but my mind blanked out from friday to sunday. i might do scarabia to diasomnia next month in celebration for white day, so if you like this, look forward to that!! ╰┈➤ 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: @mobagehelllocal for the idea!!

He’s direct. He kisses you without stopping himself, but his lips touch yours like a rose petal touching the ground. Soft. Light. Not completely touching. His hands slightly tremble as they cup your cheeks, as if trying to hold a rose stem.

He pulls away, a respectable distance from you. Grey eyes quiver while gazing at you, the eyes of an Alice lost in her way in this Wonderland and not a Queen of Hearts who commanded the room.

You smile.

It’s okay, you silently say before placing your lips on his. A muffled yelp leaves his mouth. Shocking. Pleasuring. Loving. He tastes of tea and tarts. Innocence’s sweetness made its home in his tongue, and you’re making a visit to experience it. But then you taste something else. Ineffable, yet you knew. A subtle bitterness, a note of lost childhood. He sighs in content. You feel his smile on your own.

Sugar and spice filling your nose. The hum of the oven. Sticky fingers and dusty aprons. You lean on the messy island from a long day baking. It’s done. It’s finally done.

A sudden sensation. It’s as startling as the prick of a thorn but soft as a petal. You whip your head. In your vision, he chuckles, a sound rich like chocolate ganache. You pout at him. That’s not enough. He comments about spoiling you too much.

You pout even further. Unsatisfied. Needy. Emotions that almost put you in a mad daze.

You pull his apron towards you, strong enough that he follows along. Chocolate-covered lips smack his. He tastes of a busy bakery whose scent wafts around the neighborhood, beckoning people to come and have a taste of such sweetness. Your tongue chases for that sweetness. A deep amused hum rumbles from his throat. Then his tongue overtakes yours.

Hands tangled in his hair. Moans leaving his throat. Teeth grazing your lip. Your tongues dance like feet on a disco floor. Spontaneous. Stimulating. Seducing. Perhaps there are passers-by, but the world no longer matters except the spotlight illuminating you and him. His taste reminds you of car rides under sunset skies. Where music blasts from speakers. Where you sing at the top of your lungs until your voices can’t take it anymore. Passionate. In the moment. Hoping for forever.

But knowing that forever does not exist.

Your lips pull away, letting yourselves breath. But a string of saliva hangs between you two. A manifestation of both your desires for connection.

Your back presses against the stone wall. Arms trap you, blocking your escape. A victorious smirk graces that annoyingly pretty face. The ace is his.

He moves closer until his grin touches your pouty lips. His tongue pushes to enter your mouth, but you block the entrance. This game is not yet over, and you are far from done.

Hands grabbing his hair. Your teeth biting his lower lip. A startled sound leaves his throat immediately followed by a groan. Your tongue traces the mark on his lip, tasting a hint of cherries. A sweetness unbefitting his brattiness, and yet reminding you of a child’s innocence and immaturity.

A mistake you made. He takes his chance and inserts his tongue in your mouth. The cherry taste mixed with hints of artificial flavors takes over your senses. But you aren’t going down so easily. Fighting back, your tongues battle for dominance. Persistent. Frustrated. Determined. Needy mouths refuse to stop until a victor comes out on top.

Your warm breath mingles with his. The distance is so small, yet his lips feel so far. He just needs one more inch. But it seems that it’s a leap he can’t make.

You close the gap. It’s short. Probably less than two seconds. But you briefly taste sunny side up eggs served by mom on sunny Saturday mornings.

Lips part. Yet the distance is still small, the craving for that nostalgic taste keeping you close to him. Was it good, he asks. Eyes that have always been your clear skies are now cloudy with nervousness. You smile. You lean to give him a small peck. Please do it again.

Clouds dispel. His eyes are clear skies once more, the light of joy rivaling the sun. He leans to give another kiss, but this time, longer lasting.

Sheets have long been tossed to the floor. Strong arms wrap around you as lips encase yours. Unprepared. You were unprepared for the loud sounds of sucking and bilabial clicks of your lips. You were unprepared for his tongue entangling in yours. You were unprepared for his fangs that are greedy for your taste.

There’s a hint of today’s popular meaty meal in the kiss. A king that feasts on anything, a glimpse of wealth on your tastebuds. Soon, your lungs start aching, and you move to stop and breathe. But his hold on you tightens. His lips are on yours again.

Greedy. Needy. You almost groan in annoyance. Almost. For somehow, in the midst of the passion, you remember. A king can’t rule alone. Perhaps that loneliness caught up with him. So just this once, you’ll indulge him, losing yourself in the heat of his kisses.

Sweaty. Sticky. Your skin is moist and heated. From the dry air? From the kiss? From both?

Moans leave your lips. Your legs continuously move until they intertwine with his legs. A tug of your hair, and your moans grow louder. Pain and pleasure mixed as one. You tug on his hair, and his reaction is the same. Somehow, the sound spurs you to deepen the kiss. Your tongues chase for each other, like dogs chasing for the nearest pond. You crave for the sweetness he has. Donuts. Your taste buds are overwhelmed with the taste of cheap dough and sugary glaze. A hint of cheap chocolate. You absentmindedly wonder how much he has to work to buy the treats he loves.

He pulls away to let himself breathe, a smirk eventually forming on his face. Congratulating you or mocking you, you couldn’t quite tell. Not bad, he says. And he comes back to your lips. His hunger and thirst for you has not been quenched yet.

His body pressing you down against the mattress. Your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips gently plant themselves on every inch of your face. One kiss. Two. Three. Every kiss holds the same care that a gardener gives to his plants. Seeds of love placed on your skin to remind you that you are his, now and forever.

His mouth finally encases your lips. A thirst finally quenching your parched desires. His kiss is fresh fruit drinks on a day where the hot sun bathes your skin. Cool citrus flavors coat your tongue. Refreshing. His kiss tastes refreshing. And even when he pulls away to let you breathe, the taste of citrus remains in your mouth.

The cold air tickles your skin, yet your body feels warm. The hum of the air conditioner in the room accompanies the melody of the kiss you two share on his chair.

His arms around your waist. Your hands buried in his hair. Smooch. Your sounds of kissing along with his sighs bring you deeper and deeper in the kiss. Was this the sailor’s thoughts when he hears the siren’s call?

Push. Pull. Push. Pull. His lips and tongue move to the rhythm of the waves lapping on a shore. His taste... you can’t quite tell what it is. You taste spices and herbs, sugars and salts. A taste with variety, as abundant as his talents.

Lungs ache. But you don’t leave. You can’t leave. For he beckons you to draw closer, to never leave his side.

Your moans filling the room. His teeth grazing your lip. His tongue entangled in yours, all to please you.

You hold his head closer to you. More. You need more. Please give me more, you beg through the tracing of your tongue on his top lip. Shocking. Addicting. Intoxicating. His taste is a marriage of the sea and the land, a saltiness mixed with earthy flavors. Sparks dance on your lips, coursing through your veins until it reaches your heart. Like a lightning that pierced through your chest, only it felt so good that you drown in the feeling.

You don’t care if you sink to the pleasure that his silver tongue brings. You need more. You’re addicted.

Tight. His limbs around you are tight as he pins you to the bed. His tongue dominates yours, entwining it as if a physical manifestation of binding yourself to him.

You taste so many things that it overwhelms you. A hint of takoyaki, a dash of chips, a note of candy. It leaves you heady, and you want more of it until you can no longer breathe.

You flinch. His teeth dig into your lip. There’s a new taste now, a coppery flavor from the wound he created. It excites your taste buds, and the pain adds a new depth of pleasure. You moan. You grasp onto him. Holding him close and bringing him down with you in this sea of ecstasy.