#I think I’m getting back in the hang of making art! Something happened and my ability to make art declined drastically

[lucraven]

Merry (late) Christmas!! Swansea wasn’t under my tree sadly

[hoshifighting]

ask translation: today's rant, girls, i can't get it out of my head that jeonghan is totally that "friend" who sends you a message a second after you remove the @ of your last relationship from your bio. "baby, I saw that you deleted his @, did something happen? Is everything okay? you know you can talk about anything with your hannie, right?" "wow, what an jerk, do you want to come over today, princess?" WARNINGS: smut, fingering, doggy-style, friend!jeonghan, recent break-up

PORTUGUESE VERSION

it’s a matter of seconds. you barely take his @ out of your bio, and the “ding” from your phone already notifies you. guess who? that’s right—jeonghan. and you know exactly what he’s going to say before you even open the message. it’s almost automatic; his timing is so damn perfect that you almost think he’s been stalking your profile, waiting for the smallest slip-up, a little sign.

“hey, baby,” he starts, casual as ever, “saw you took his name out of your bio… something happened?” you read it and can practically see his smug little smile while he’s typing, just loving the drama. “tsk, motherfucker,” you mutter to yourself, but you’re laughing. then he follows up: “you know you can tell your hannie anything, right?”

you roll your eyes, but ignoring him? impossible. the next message doesn’t even let you hesitate.

“god, what an idiot. wanna come over tonight, princess? got that wine you love…”

and there he’s got you. he knows it. he knows that the “heart-to-heart” is just a flimsy excuse, you know what he wants, and that “motherfucker” you muttered? already forgotten. the worst part is you don’t even resist. you’re already texting back before you can think twice:

“give me fifteen. actually have the wine, or i’m out,” you shoot back, adding that little side-eye emoji he always teases you for.

not even five seconds later, he replies: “bet.”

at his place, things start slow—he hands you the glass and goes, “spill it all, babe.” you actually try talking about your ex, maybe add some drama for effect… but he cuts you off, saying he doesn’t wanna hear about that “loser,” and before you know it, the conversation’s become something else entirely. he teases you, like always, and it doesn’t take long before that “friendly” vibe slips into something much more serious.

the wine might as well have gone straight between your legs. minutes later, jeonghan’s there, face buried between your thighs, his mouth working over the wet clit while he keeps his eyes locked on yours. he makes it look like an art form, taking his time, slow, drawing you out more and more—and you, impatient as hell, nearly losing it every time he stops just to throw in some little comment. he lifts his head slightly, lips glistening, with that smug glint in his eye.

“how could he lose you, huh?” he’s not actually asking; he just wants to see you needier. you press your thighs against him, trying to make him shut up and eat you out, but he just laughs, naughty.

“god, you’re so impatient, knew you’d be like this…” he knows exactly the effect he has on you.

you let out a frustrated moan, and he laughs again—he’s clearly feeding off this. “relax, princess, not gonna leave you hanging.” he says it, but he doesn’t speed up. you’re practically begging by the time he finally decides to quit playing games.

he fucks you so good that if you’d known it would always be like this with him, the idea of dating anyone but jeonghan would’ve never even crossed your mind.

he’s got you on all fours on his couch, no mercy, thrusting deep with that thick cock, your cries coming out rough and strained, head tilted back as he holds nothing back, fingers gripping your hair just to make you scream his name louder. the angle leaves your gasps sounding suffered, desperate.

jeonghan, obviously, is eating this up. he notices when you’re already dripping all over his couch, and just to make it even worse, he gathers up that little drip and rubs it right on your sensitive clit, making you melt like jelly, your body going limp on his couch until he eases his grip on your hair so he doesn’t hurt you.

he moans shamelessly, the sound probably even louder than yours, and it catches you off guard. he doesn’t hold back, telling you how long he’s wanted this, how many times he’s dreamed about fucking you exactly like this.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this pretty pussy, baby…” he whispers, and you feel that delicious shiver on the back of your neck. “if you hadn’t picked that dumbass… we could’ve been fucking like this ages ago.”

he thrusts deeper, but moving slower, just so you can feel every inch as he murmurs in your ear. his touch is firm, fingers gliding down to squeeze that sensitive spot, giving it a playful pinch just to watch you shiver, rolling your eyes as you gasp out his name.

“this is what you wanted, princess? gonna appear here on my place, begging for my cock again.. and im going to give you what you want... always.”

[zairaalbereo]

“Please don’t do this.”

So after binging the whole four seasons of Black Sails last month, I’m now on a more leisurely rewatch… or so I thought.

But god everything hits so much worse or better or harder knowing about Flint’s past and motivation now. And then this scene came up, and I’m just… fuuuuuck. Crying, screaming, throwing up. I’m not okay. This is devastating. (Did I mention I cope with art?)

On my first watch, Flint killing Gates truly shocked me. He would really kill his friend just because he wouldn’t go along with his plans? To not have to give up on the Urca? Sure, Gates is going against his command. It’s mutiny, but Gates seems to be trying, and he sounds so bloody reasonable. And more importantly, he’s been a loyal friend up until now. A fatherly friend (I want to throw up). And even now he’s… trying to protect Flint, right? (Fuck. Seriously. Feeling ill.)

But yeah, I was shocked. And as he whispered broken apologies to the friend he just murdered, I wondered… could I forgive him for this?

And now…omg now it’s like watching a completely different train wreck happening, and it all makes perfect, tragic, horrible sense. The way the whole scene mirrors James McGraw’s futile attempt to convince Hennessy of their Hail Mary plan to save Nassau. Every step. The urgency when things have already gone sideways, but James refuses to give up, because it can still work. People just have to listen. Let him explain. Have a little faith. Back then he trusted Hennessy, and now he still trusts Gates. He trusts them to understand, asking them to believe in him. He doesn’t see it coming. (How does he not see it coming this time?)

And then the moment the floor is ripped out from under him. And it’s all there, on Flint’s face, in the moment when Gates says “They know.” It’s not the mutiny. It’s the betrayal. The way Flint’s face falls, and for a moment he looks just like James McGraw in Hennessy’s office. The same devastation and disbelief when he asks “You told them?” And of course for him it is the same betrayal. It is the same fight, to prove Thomas right. To stand against those who took him and everything else away from James.

And Gates, that poor bastard, doesn’t even understand what sin he is committing. He doesn’t even see it as mutiny. He sees it as doing the right thing, containing a madman. (Omggg…) And then there is Flint, reliving the worst moments of his life. And that point it doesn’t feel like it’s about the Urca anymore. It’s an emotional massacre, to which Gates seems completely oblivious. When Flint asks if he will see him get hanged, only to be promised an opportunity to flee for him and ‘Mrs Barlow’, Gates thinks he is doing him a kindness. Like Hennessy probably thought he was doing him a kindness, saving him from the gallows. It’s all right. Flint just has to leave, vanish and never be heard of again. He should be grateful. And the way Flint’s eyes close briefly in disbelief that this is happening. Again. The way he pleads with Gates, just like he pleaded with Hennessy. So unlike Flint. But once more he is told that his actions are unforgivable. Simply too much. He’s not just rejected, but he is abandoned. He is cast out for who he is and his supposed sins. A monster that can’t be allowed to exist amongst the rest of them.

The whole scene is executed so brilliantly, the way he fluctuates between James’ almost innocent appeals to be understood and Flint’s anger at being denied. But he keeps trying until the last moment. And then, when he acts, it’s not a calculated move. It’s pure desperation, the only purpose to do something, to stop what is happening. Because James McGraw didn’t. But where James McGraw hesitated, where he maybe still hoped, still didn’t comprehend, and where he still thought he had something to lose… Flint doesn’t. And yet we can see it break him. We can see how it breaks another part of his soul. 

(And of course it will happen again. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up.)

[moonsaver]

Context before getting into the actual idea: I recently saw some fanart based on concept art for Dr Ratio where he has slightly longer, messier hair and the fanart interpreted this as him having a bit of a rebellious phase when he was younger.

So now I’m just thinking about Reader going to school with him when he was going through this phase. He had a bit of a crush on her but didn’t know how to express it so he just messed with her constantly.

And now they meet again when he’s changed and he hasn’t gotten over her she’s just getting massive amounts of whiplash from how wildly different he is. Could be yandere 👀

Anon. I am GRIPPINT YOU BY THE SHOULDERS. Listen. Unfortunately i doubt i did this justice but i tried my best PLEASE okay

A bit long, under the cut!

Its not exactly easy to imagine Dr. Ratio of all people being rebellious, but that just makes it even more possibly believeable in my opinion. I am deeply convinced he has had his crazy scientist, jerkward asshole phase at least once and was soo deeply embarassed the moment he left it.

But listen. His professors all probably HATED him because he would probably constantly correct them, be so disgustingly overeducated to the point they'd send him to the library or tell him to get lost just so he wouldn't disrupt class. He's the infamous asshole who sits wherever he wants, and hoardes an entire table to himself if he's at the library or at the cafeteria. Any student who needs a pen or eraser or a pencil knows he's NOT the one to ask, even if it was in the middle of an exam worth half their grade and he was the only person beside them. He does literally anything he wants and no one can stop him except probably by force, and if they do, something worse ends up happening to them instead.

Anyways, here comes in reader. Probably already knows his sour reputation. Regardless, maybe you're the poor soul who's his seatmate. If the crush is already established, he's constantly bothering you. Asking for stationaries like the entirety of his desk isn't covered by it already (he likes the miniscule interaction), taking your notebooks without your knowledge and sometimes even scribbling inside of them (its his horrid handwriting, he's just trying to help you with detailed notes), he comments on how "lame" your outfit is, asking about your social life, rolling his eyes when your response isn't exactly.. pleasing (he's actually a bit content with it. Perhaps you'll hang out with him more, instead?). You note the smell of alcohol trailing him a bit everytime you interact with him.

It's not easy for him, especially when you can't seem to keep up and look so queasy around him. Aeons, his heart is so twisted up and squeezed everytime he seems to be getting more distant from you, but he just has no idea how to convey his feelings. Not when he didn't even account for the fact he'll have a crush on anyone in the first place.

Anyways, timeskip!

You're probably a researcher of some sort, maybe not so well known. Let's just say for the sake of simplicity you're a researcher on Herta's space station. It's not too soon before he runs into you, probably after the whole mess at the station's been "cleaned up" regarding the curio and whatever. Maybe he doesn't leave right after that interaction with Screwellum, and he decides to, by his curiosity, take a look around once again before he leaves (certainly not because he's heard a familiar name thrown around a few times).

And there you are. In your little research-getup, professional vernacular, hair all neat. He's probably right behind you in an instant, and you turn around to look as the colleague you were talking to suddenly starts stuttering and becoming squeamish while looking behind you. There he is, in all his (cruel?) Glory. The infamous asshole who was your classmate.

But.. it's surprising how much more mellow he's become (at least towards you?). His hair are neatly tamed, his build is taller and more muscular than it was back then, but his attire is also quite tame (if not a little.. fancy?), compared to his brash taste back then. His eyes still seem to hold contempt, but more distantly so.

Veritas figures your mouth is agape and you're speechless considering the change in his countenance as of recent. He's also not yet come to terms with the fact that his heart still twists and squeezes whenever he sees that unsure look on your face. If you were made of clay, and if he could, he'd meld the most beautiful smile on your face with his craftful fingers. Alas, he resorts to tamer methods. At least he supposes he's a wiser man, now. He's more aware of different courting methods.

He asks about your station, your current life, family, friends, etc .. in a seemingly disinterested tone. There's a bit of resignation but hidden constrain in his voice, everytime you mention a "close friend" of yours or a colleague you worked with "closely". But he hasn't been berating you the way he would have back then. His fingers slightly constantly strain, folded behind his back, trying desperately not to taper towards you – there's stray strands of hair on your face. Your headpiece is off centre. Your pen is slanting in your pocket. Your shoulders are too tense. Your eyebrows are furrowed. your eyes look tired. Have your lips always been chapped? They were fine back then.. hold on.

While you stutter out useless formalities and pleasantries, Veritas' eyes scan you over. Time has weathered you well, in his opinion. The thin line of his pressed lips dont quite indicate that. He sighs almost grimly, shutting you up in an instant. He offers you to accompany him and possibly consider joining the Intelligentsia Guild (is it not worth a shot trying? It may be foolish, but he's a tad too desperate when it comes to you). You timidly mumble out a refusal, the words barely leaving your mouth. He nods.

Catching up makes his heart squeeze and rush all over the place. Topics he once tried to teach you back then (by.. VERY unsuccessful methods,) seem to be elementary knowledge to you now. You work more efficiently, hold yourself in a better, more confident way, and you seem to be smoothsailing in your life. Granted, it's technically the bare minimum, but its been so long since he talked to you. The chirp in your voice, the chuckle you let out every now and then despite your nervousness around him, has his heart in his throat. He can't bring himself to try and even "set you straight" by giving you (unwarranted) advice or piddling your achievements, there's a soft smile he's duly hiding behind his scorning face.

He offers you again, if you are unsure about joining the Guild, and discreetly mentions it being filled with imbeciles regardless when you deny again, pulling another string of laughter out of you. Hmph, you weren't so joyful when he made those statements back in high school.

Granted,you're obviously still not quite sure about Veritas' new look. He's still got his infamous reputation as an extremely strict teacher, the oddball with an alabastor head and having worked with the IPC, it's not a pleasant image per se, but it's heaps better than his reputation back at school. You politely make a joke about it, and he groans, earning another cautious, light chuckle from you. He has become different. You prattle on about the length of his hair, his refinement of speech, the difference in how he holds himself now.. it does leave him melting a tad bit inside. You noticed it? Hm. Clever little thing.

Of course, goodbyes are seldom sweet. He does manage to pry out your contact information once again, before. If you don't budge,he finds another way regardless. Your network of colleagues aren't exactly as strong as you might have thought. He remembers this information carefully.

Like the old days, maybe he'll manage to keep slipping notes into your reports and files. Perhaps pull a few strings back in the old days to keep you in his class, he'll slowly knot and twist a few strings to bring and budge you over to his little workplace. Sooner or later, you'll end up in his home. He's sure of it.

And just like the old days, his little seatmate is by his side once again. Care to put up with him for a bit longer? Probably forever, in this case.

[dadvans]

without a base, without a trace

bucktommy (9-1-1) :: 5 medical emergencies buck has after breaking up with tommy + 1 he has when they get back together

slightly based on this post by @epiphainie. for @rcmclachlan. art by @wortwood. verging on crack fic. this is the dumbest thing i have ever written.

ONE.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

It’s a rare day that Josh is working the lines, not that he cares. It’s important to not get rusty in a job like this. And if he’s being a little too honest with himself, the rush he gets on certain calls make his shift fly by way quicker than when he’s supervising or working breaks.

“Josh?”

This is close to his thirtieth call of the day, so it takes him a second to place the familiar vocal fry on the other end of call.

“Buck?”

“Shit,” Buck says, “well, this is embarrassing. Uh, hey. Can you not tell my sister about this?”

“Your sister who is sitting across from me?” Josh glances up, catching Maddie’s attention. Her eyes double in size when he mouths Buck to her and gestures to his own headset.

“Yeah, please, I—Josh—“

“Hey, hey, of course, don’t worry, Buck, I’m still a professional.” He rolls his eyes as Maddie peers over her monitor, and he mouths again I’ll tell you later, before returning his attention to the line. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Buck sighs on the other end. “I have a Coke can stuck up my ass.”

Josh almost chokes. This wouldn’t even be the first call this week where someone “tripped and landed on something wrong,” but the mental image of one of those calls being Buck practically knocks the wind out of him.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that.”

“Coke can,” Buck repeats, and there’s something to be said that his bitchy tone could be genetic the way he sounds so much like Maddie on her last nerve, “stuck up my ass.”

“Oka-a-a-y,” Josh says slowly, logging rectal foreign body and Coke can appropriately. “Can I ask how this happened?”

“How do you think, Josh? My boyfriend broke up with me, I missed him, and Tommy was—he was big, you know?”

“Sure,” Josh replies, trying to keep his tone neutral as possible. “Have you ever heard the adage ‘without a base, without a trace?’ Without a flared base, nearly ten times out of ten you’re bound to—“

“Look, I know, okay? I’ve responded to plenty of these calls myself, I just thought I had a good grip and was feeling desperate, and with all the lube, it slipped, and—“

“You know what, I think I get the picture. Are you at your home address?”

He hears another sad sigh from Buck’s end of the line.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, I’m dispatching paramedics to your location, okay? And for future reference”—he lowers his voice—“there are plenty of places online, or The Pleasure Chest off of Santa Monica that can provide you with a more appropriate, uh, instrument to help you with your needs, got it?”

He hangs up shortly after, and Maddie immediately rounds their desks to sit on the lip of his. “So?”

“Let me just tell you that you don’t want to know,” Josh says, shaking his head. “But if you piss me off someday, I might tell you.”

TWO

It’s barely a week after Josh takes Buck’s call that another one comes in. Josh is the supervisor on shift when he hears Maddie’s tone go from a measured neutral to thin and tight in seconds.

“Buck?” She says. “Buck, are you okay?”

There’s no possible way, Josh thinks. But just in case, on a hunch, he pulls up a chair and connects himself to her line.

“Buck, this is Josh, I’m acting shift lead.”

Maddie gives him a weird look that he ignores, but Buck says, “Oh, thank God. Maddie, can you let Josh just take this?”

“Um, n-no, no. This doesn’t work like that. What’s going on, Evan?”

“Maddie,” Buck groans, “please?”

“Please, sir, I need you to state your emergency,” Maddie continues, voice settling. Her hands, which had been starting to shake, still on her keyboard.

“It’s an eggplant,” Buck says. “I have… an eggplant.”

“An eggplant?” Maddie repeats.

Josh chokes past a cough so he doesn’t laugh out loud. Real fucking amateur hour. “Buck, what did I tell you last week? Did you completely ignore my advice?”

Maddie turns to him, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Your brother has an eggplant lodged in his ass,” Josh replies, shaking his head. “Am I right, Buck?”

“Look, I did take your advice, or I thought I did. I thought if I started at the smaller side, the other end would act naturally as a flared base, but I got uh, carried away.”

Josh closes his eyes, listening, and counts to three. Maddie may have stopped breathing next to him. “And Buck, uh, what kind of eggplant was it? I’m assuming—“

“Italian,” Buck confirms, “the big kind.”

Damn. Josh is kind of impressed. Buck sure isn’t doing things by halves.

“This time it may require, uh,” Buck continues, “surgical assistance. It feels really deep.”

“Buck, I can’t assure you of anything, but you’d be surprised what the human body is capable of. Just stay calm, and we’re dispatching help to your area. Are you still at home?” Josh asks.

“Yeah,” Buck admits. Josh has had years of faceless conversations across a wide range of disasters, emergencies, human experiences. Someone else, even Maddie, would probably say he sounds embarrassed, but Josh knows sadness when he hears it.

He doesn’t call any attention to it, just nods. “Okay, thank you. Help is on the way.”

When the call disconnects, Maddie turns to him, face distressed. “What did he mean, ‘This time?’”

THREE

Josh is supervising a new trainee’s line when Buck’s third call comes in. It’s been maybe a week and a half, and the first to come so late, almost three in the morning. Josh has just come back from a break, having closed his eyes in the back for forty-five minutes, and is wondering if he’s still dreaming when Buck’s unmistakable voice cracks over the line. Unlike the first two calls, he slurs from the first word and Josh is pretty sure he’s been crying.

Josh rolls his eyes and unmutes his side of the line. “Hi, Buck.”

His trainee almost jumps a foot when he does it. He covers his mic with his palm and turns to her.

“Repeat callers, you’ll get used to them. This one is kind of my regular,” he assures her, hoping she doesn’t work with Maddie anytime soon.

Buck hiccups on the other end of the line and moans. “Josh, I did something stupid.”

“Wait, what was that? Buck, can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe?”

“I dunno. Did something stupid. Dumb,” he repeats. “Wine bottle.”

Jesus Christ. “Wine bottle?”

“Wine bottle. With wine in it. Neck not big enough. Stuck. Wine is—izza—fillin’ me up but is, it’s, doesn’t feel right.” Half of his words are slurred together. It sounds like he’s saying Dozen-fee-ruh. He says, “Mucus membranes. I looked it up. Too much.”

“Got it, got it, you home, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck admits softly. “Alone.”

“I’m sending help to your location.” Josh takes over his trainee’s dashboards and dispatches a team accordingly.

“Not the one-eighteen though, right?” Buck asks. But with the way he sounds, it takes a second for Josh to decipher.

“No, not the one-eighteen,” he says, then sighs. “But Buck, I can’t guarantee that they won’t be dispatched to you next time. And if it’s me on the call, that’s who I’m definitely sending. I don’t expect you to remember me saying this, but if this happens again, you might force my hand if that’s what gets you to stop.”

“Okay, okay. Just miss him. Miss him so much. The way he filled me up—“

Josh abruptly ends the call. Which isn’t great. Help has already been sent out, but still.

“What just happened?” She asks.

“Something,” Josh says on an exhale, “totally normal in the broad scheme of things. But for my sake? Please pretend this call never did.”

FOUR.

Josh was supposed to be off tonight, but dispatch has been busy, busy, busy since a low five-point-something and several aftershocks slammed everything sideways from Puente Hills. Sue called him in hours ago, and the only thing that’s keeping him alert through the hours-long queue of anxious callers is the promise of that sweet, sweet, time and a half overtime pay.

He’s ready to lose it by the time the calls start to finally die down only to have Buck end up on his line.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he sighs. He pulls

Buck, on the other end, grumbles what sounds like There have to be more than five dispatchers in all of Los Angeles, right? away from the receiver, before he says closer and direct across the line, “I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean, ’stuck?’” Josh asks, fingers flying over the keyboard. He hasn’t heard of any infrastructure damage near Glendale, but maybe he’s making assumptions. “Are you trapped?”

“No, I’m—not exactly.”

“‘Not exactly,” Josh repeats. “Buck, where are you?”

“My apartment.” Buck doesn’t sound scared, or even urgently in danger. He sounds resigned. “I got a toy, by the way. Like you suggested. Flared base. Suction end, even, so I wouldn’t have any more accidents.”

Josh stopped believing in God a few decades ago, but he finds himself sending out a quiet prayer anyway that none of his calls with Buck have randomly hit the auditor’s desk. “Is that relevant to the call, sir?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t—shit. I was riding it when the earthquake hit.”

“Okay,” Josh says, when Buck doesn’t elaborate. “And?”

“I had it suctioned to my coffee table. And I’d been riding it for a while, so my legs were already shaky and I slipped—you know what, not important. What’s important is that I’ve been glued to my coffee table with a dick in my ass since noon. I can’t get up without the table—everything pulls, I can’t feel where the silicone ends and wood begins.”

“Jesus,” Josh says. Again, he really hopes this call doesn’t get audited.

There aren’t enough first responders to get to Buck right away. Josh lets him know that, in between asking a series of invasive questions where he learns that Buck is also somehow upside down, struggling to reach the poppers bottle he wants to swat out of the line of sight when someone inevitably rescues him.

“We’re experiencing a high volume of emergency calls at the moment, but I’ll get someone to you as soon as I can. But Buck,” Josh continues, “you have my number. Let me know when you’re okay. And then we can talk. Because I never, ever want to get one of these calls again.”

FIVE.

Josh watches as Maddie suspiciously sidles up to him in the locker bay several days later. She’s half-dancing, hips swaying and arms circling in a sad attempt at salsa.

“Do you have bedbugs? Did Howie give you bedbugs?” He asks her. “Because if you have bedbugs and you give them to the rest of us, I swear to God, Maddie.”

“No!” She says. Even when she doesn’t laugh out loud, she laughs with her eyes sometimes, wide and alive and catching all sorts of life. Had he been straight in another life, he would have been in so much trouble. “Okay, remember how we discussed Evan’s, uh, recent maladaptive coping strategies?”

“If by ‘discussed’ you mean ‘completely evaded the subject,’ and I gave him the number of a man whose penis defies God—“

“Yes, yes, anyway. They’re on a date!” She whips out her phone to show Josh the text message confirmation from Buck that not only had he’d reached out to Josh’s friend a few days ago, but was also now on his way to a dinner and movie. “Look!”

Josh’s eyes close with relief. “Oh, thank God. I can finally rest easy for a shift and not worry your brother is going to end up on my line with something stuck up his ass.”

Maddie’s smile fades and her shoulders slump. “Tell me about it. I’d do anything to go back to a time where he was just baking too much and I didn’t have to worry about where all the candles in his apartment went.”

“Stop.” He closes his eyes and throws his head back. “End of conversation. Even if I’m happy you told me, so I won’t have to spend the next twelve hours worried your brother is going to finally puncture his colon and die. Because the past few weeks have been so much.”

“Well, maybe your Prince Charming is the one who will finally break the curse,” Maddie replies, squeezing his shoulder.

Josh really hopes so. He needs Big Dick Eric (the guy’s Christian name, according to how Josh had saved him in his phone after a slightly overwhelming Grindr hookup) to seal the deal with Buck tonight. It doesn’t have to be forever, just as long as it takes for Buck to stop trying to fill the hole in his heart with dick. For Josh’s own mental health.

He wants to be optimistic.

The first two hours of his shift are as normal as normal can be for a seven-to-seven night shift. He handles an ugly domestic call, several drunk teenagers, a broken skate park ankle, and multiple people reporting the same car alarm going off at their apartment complex. His heart rate picks up when a new homeowner calls to report a squatter in her attic, but it just turns out to be a bat infestation.

And then, as if even thinking the word “quiet” is a thought crime that welcomes chaos, Josh takes his next call and is greeted with screaming.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” He asks, voice slightly elevated to challenge the screams warping the call.

He’ll give Buck credit later: when the emergency isn’t necessarily specific to his own bad decisions, the guy is effectively, professionally cool in a crisis, to a degree that Josh doesn’t immediately recognize him.

He requests an ambulance immediately to a residential address for a single adult man who he believes has fractured his penis.

“Can you tell me what happened that has lead you to believe this man has fractured his penis?” Josh asks, trying to discourage his own balls from shrinking back up inside him.

“We were, uh, in flagrante,” the guy on the other end responds, and that’s when Josh knows it’s Buck, because the pitchy, worried waver in his voice haunts Josh’s dreams. “We were—well—there was a popping noise while he was still inside me, and everything got hot and wet different from lube, you know, and I looked down and there was blood everywhere. And then he started screaming.”

Yeah, that sounds pretty fractured. Poor Big Dick Eric.

“Oh-kay, sir,” Josh replies, “Well, I am dispatching help to you right now. While you wait, you should try to treat the afflicted area with ice—“

“—Already on it,” Buck replies, harried, and Josh can hear him roughly digging ice out of a freezer, he thinks.

“Great. Help will be there soon, Buck,” Josh confirms, and then the shoveling sound stops briefly.

“Josh?”

“Yup,” Josh replies.

“Of course, God—hey, please don’t tell Maddie about this one, please? I’ve already traumatized her so much.”

Josh sighs, and professionalism be damned, he can’t stop himself from saying, “Buck, I won’t tell Maddie, but I’m absolutely telling all of Gay Los Angeles to steer clear from you until whatever sex curse you’re dealing with is fixed”

Buck hums sadly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Josh listens to him return to Big Dick Eric’s side, equal parts miserable and beguiled at the soft, direct way Buck offers a baggie of ice to a wailing Big Dick Eric. He finds himself feeling bad, though he’s not sure who for. All parties involved, maybe. Himself especially.

Despite all his years as a dispatcher, he still ends the call with a migraine.

PLUS ONE

“I think,” Maddie had said between several sips of decaf, halfway through their shift, tone light and bubbly, “that they might get back together. They’ve been talking.”

“‘Talking,’ huh?” Josh had replied, shutting his locker. “God, I hope so. Spare the rest of Los Angeles from whatever in the Grey’s Anatomy that’s become your brother’s life.

The look Maddie had given him, six months pregnant, patience thin, emotionally volatile and absolutely not amused, shut him up immediately.

That was hours ago. Seventeen calls ago. Their shift ends as the sun starts rising outside their windowless floor. Josh shrugs his jacket on thinking about the Egg McMuffin he’s going to get before he returns home and passes out in a sodium coma for approximately seven hours. Maybe he’ll dig through the graveyard of Trader Joe’s meals in his freezer to get the frozen bottle of Absolut that sits in back and make himself a Screwdriver to wash it down with.

“Plans for the rest of your day?” He turns to Maddie, only to find her distracted and scrolling through her phone.

“Sorry, I—I have like, several texts and five voicemails from Evan and I’m trying to read the transcripts first,” she says, brow knitting together with worrying familiarity. “Let’s see, it sounds like—oh. Oh. Oh wow.”

Josh commendably does not scream. “What now?”

She turns the phone to him, expanding the first message.

Hi Maddie, it’s Tommy. We’re—me and Evan—are headed to the ER. Nothing huge, just thought you should know, he said you had plans tomorrow. He kind of got carried away tonight, and, you know what? Doesn’t matter. Not a big deal. He’s having a little trouble speaking right now, but wanted me to call you so you don’t worry.

“What,” Josh says.

She thumbs open the transcript for the next voicemail.

Hey, Maddie. Tommy again. Buck’s voice is still out of commission. He, uh. It sounds like he ruptured his airway. He’s being given the good drugs, but will not be able to meet you tomorrow, and is definitely going to be on a text-only basis for at least a week. At the very least it isn’t bad enough for him to need surgery, so we’re getting discharged soon. I’ve got him for now, and I’ll keep an eye on him for the next couple of days while we’re off. Feel free to give me a call or swing by if you have any questions.

“Did he really—?”

“Yup, yes he did,” Maddie says, swiping over to her texts to open up a selfie from Buck, looking smug and high as a kite while reclining in a hospital bed.

“Jesus, how big is Tommy,” Josh says, before he can stop himself.

“At a certain point it just has to be uncomfortable for everyone involved, right?” Maddie frowns down at the picture of Buck grinning back up at her from her phone.

Josh sighs. “They really found love in a hopeless place. I think this is one of those situations where two people belong together, if only for the public safety of everyone else.”

“I just hope it sticks this time.”

“If it doesn’t, I might just have to quit my job,” Josh says. “Anyway, tell them congratulations for me. I’m going to go drink celebratory screwdrivers until I pass out.”

Maddie’s nose wrinkles and she turns her pout on him, one hand moving to her stomach. “You’re a cruel man, Josh Russo.”

His looks down at the phone she still holds with the other pointedly. “I think you and I both know I could be much, much worse.”

[historiawon]

WHILE THE IRON IS HOT

You, Rafayel's bodyguard, ask if you can commission him to sketch your next tattoo.

Based on this post. Can also be found on AO3 :)

Tags: gender neutral reader, getting closer (professionally as well as casually), reader is NOT an artist, rafayel is NOT a numbers guy, bickering, close proximity, lots of eye contact

Kindly read under the cut!

They say, ‘Strike when the iron is hot.’

The mantra repeats excessively in your mind as you watch over Rafayel, the person who employed you as his bodyguard. Because the current chances of Wanderers attacking the Mo Art Studio is low (never zero), you give your mind permission to wander. A little. Just a little.

Your mind wanders as far as a few weeks ago: the request at the tip of your tongue. That will later be inked to your skin.

As they say, ‘Strike while the iron is hot.’ You’re standing a few feet away from a brilliant artist. This is your chance.

You cough. “Excuse me.”  

“I have a name,” Rafayel says, as he brushes past you to rummage through his box of tools. He takes out a scraper.

“Right. Rafayel?”  

“What’s up?” He returns to his stool.

“I have a question, and please indulge me: what do you think about doing commissions?”

“Commissions?” Rafayel repeats, as he scrapes the dried pigment off the canvas. “Like, other people paying me to paint for them?”

“Yes.” 

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you for a split-second before returning his attention back on the painting. He calculates a precise location before scraping again. “In your dreams. I don’t paint for anyone. I don’t even speed up my painting process for Thomas, even if he asked.”

“Even if it will earn you extra income?”

“And extra work! I already work hard enough to finish original pieces as they are.”

You nod and remember the instances of him submitting a painting late. “True. I suppose that your original works already earn enough to support you. . . and Thomas, ‘cause you pay him,” and me, as your bodyguard, you add as an afterthought. Wait, does he even pay me?

(You make a mental note to clarify that later; you have a more pressing concern right now.)

Slowly, Rafayel puts down his scraper and turns towards you. “You want me to paint something for you, is that it?”

“Hm.” You try to be vague. “No, I was just curious.”

“No, you’re not ‘just curious.’ There’s a follow-up question to it; I know.”

Silence hangs in the air as the two of you exchange a prolonged and loaded eye contact. Your breath hitches at the full attention. His pupils glance at your throat before looking back at your eyes.

Y/N, I know, his gaze seems to say.

Your steady look asks: You know?

With a nod, Rafayel’s expectant gaze answers, Try me.

We’re going off topic, Rafayel.  

“Ha! You blinked first!” He exclaims in victory then raises a hand as if to stop you from opening your mouth. “Yes, Y/N, I know a staring contest wasn’t what we were doing. But I know you have a follow-up question.”

“I do, but I was planning to take this slow. I know we have…” you gesture to the space between the two of you, “professional boundaries. I’m not in the position to ask for commission requests yet. It’s not even open.”

“So considerate,” Rafayel teases, but his gaze on you softens. “That’s cute.”

“Still, right?”

His ears flush pink, like he can’t believe what just happened. In a snap, he changes back to his usual self and touches his ear. “Just shoot your shot. Time will pass whether you ask me now or later.”

“My follow-up question was about if I can avail your services for an art commission. You can just draw; no colors. I’ll pay. What’s your price?”

“Assuring me straight up that you’ll pay? I like that in a customer!”

“We’re going off topic, Rafayel.”  

“Hey! What’s with the accusatory tone?” He says as he rubs his ears. The pink turns to red. “You’re no different. You went on a roundabout way just to ask me for a piece! You can just say,” he straightens his posture—highly reminiscent of your current posture that was earned from your job as a hunter—and imitates your tone, “‘Hey, Raf, can you make this for me? I’ll pay!’ Simple. Done.”

You break character and scoff. He chuckles at your reaction.

“Yes, but that was more of an opening rather than ‘off-topic.’ I’d rather know if you accept commissions or not before I ask you.”

“Why?”

“It’s polite.”

You bite back a grin when he makes a face. He apparently notices the way you hold back a smile—he glances at your mouth once and his ears turn red. Again. Redder than that dried pigment he’s been scraping off. “Whatever. I can be polite.”

“I’m not saying you aren’t.”

“It was implied,” he whined.

You adjust your expression back to a more neutral and respectful one to stay on track of the topic.

“So, how much will a sketch cost?”

“Hmm,” he looks at the ceiling and puts a finger under his jaw, which stains his skin with color. He seems too used to it to bother reacting. “Given that I’ve earned my spot in the industry, it would be, I don’t know. . . a lot?”

“Right. Do you have an exact amount?”

“Oh, cutie, I gotta be honest with you…” Eyes on the canvas, Rafayel scrunches his face with some hard-to-decipher smile. He picks up his scraper and scrapes off a small piece of dried pigment in the corner of the piece. A huge chunk of dried powder falls out. Yikes. “I don’t really know much about the numbers aspect. Will you bother Thomas with a hypothetical question? Don’t tell him I’m considering to give you a commission! I don’t wanna deal with his lectures.”

You make a mental note.

“Sure. I will do that. Do you want me to pay you directly? Since I imagine the price will be a lot, I can pay you in installments, if you accept.”

“Wow,” he drawls, tone impressed, “You thought this through.”

“Mm. I’m serious about this.”

Rafayel’s adam’s apple moves as he fixes his gaze at the canvas with intensity. “I’ll decide depending on the drawing. What do you want me to sketch?”

You imagine your budget, yet again. “Depends on the price.”

“Y/N,” he drawls. “We’re going in circles! Off-topic!”

“I was hoping you would sketch a tattoo for me.”

At that, Rafayel whips his head towards you so fast. The crack of his neck is loud enough for you to feel bad.

“What?” He asks, voice hoarse.

“Is your neck OK—”

“For—forget my neck. Off-topic,” he repeats, with his eyes almost teary on you. “Repeat what you said.”

“A tattoo. Just a small one. Under my ear.” At his stunned silence, you continue, “Well, it’s not every day that I can talk to a talented artist. I’m taking my chances and I’ll pay you, I promise. If I’m unable to pay it in full, then you can take money off my sala—”

“You—you want me to draw a tattoo?”

“Yes. For me.”

“I’ll draw it? Are you sure?” he almost chokes on his words.

“Yes, it would be an honor.”

“’An honor’—oh my god. No, it would be an honor to me. Not to you, to me.” Rafayel fans himself with his collar. “Wha—what—what kind of tattoo?”

“I was thinking of a sunset.” You feel a little unprepared at Rafayel’s reaction. His eyes are wide and mouth agape. No amount of spotlight could top the nerve-wracking feeling of someone’s full attention on you. “Like… I don’t know how that would look good, but… preferably, uh, you know those sketches that are made in a continuous line? Like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeat. “Does that look good? Any professional, artistic opinion?”

“Whatever you want,” his voice cracks again. You wince. “It’s a tattoo, silly. It’s supposed to be personal.”

“The mere subject is personal. I don’t mind much about the artistic style it takes to get inked on me, as long as it fits the way I look.”

“On your neck, huh…” he mutters. “I’ll help. Let’s make it perfect.”

A pause. Rafayel stands up from his stool and tears off a piece of paper from a sketchbook. “Uh, you might want to sketch what was in your mind. Then I will modify it, if you’re unsatisfied with what you made.”

“I just said I don’t mind ab—”

“A tattoo is personal. You should draw and I’ll check.”

You wave your hands away from the paper. “Ah, no! I already tried. I’m bad at drawing. That is why I need your help.”

Rafayel avoids your gaze and leaves the paper on the stool. “OK, um, I’ll be back. Let me wash my hands first—”

“You don’t have to do it now—” you say, but the man is already brushing past you to wash his pigment-stained hands (and face). He belatedly locks the bathroom door behind him, and you can hear muffled screams from where you are standing.

What’s up with him? You wonder. Is this what happens when you strike a hot iron? You didn’t think you would go this far.

_

Rafayel returns as if you didn’t hear his muffled screaming. “Who’s gonna do your tattoo?”

“I found a tattoo shop at Linkon city. They said we’re allowed to bring designs of our own.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and crosses his arms. “And you think they can imitate my genius?”

“I hope they can,” you indulge him a compliment. His ears flush pink—you can see it with the short distance between the two of you.

“How much is it?” You ask again. “Hey, does asking for your opinion have a price?”

“Geez. Why do you keep asking me about money and prices? I literally said I’m not a numbers guy. Don’t go back to the circle, Y/N.” He widens his eyes at you.

“I don’t know; you might be similar to a legal counselor. Don’t they charge clients per session?”

“We’re going off-topic, Y/N,” he says in exasperation. “I don’t know about other artists, but I’m not charging you for asking. Actually, you know what? Pay me with a favor instead. Don’t ask Thomas about a price! You’re commissioning me with a favor!”

The mental note in your head falls down like a ripped-out post-it. “Oh, OK! Thanks?”

“And no, my opinion is for free. You might never ask me for it again if I said it costs something.”

You shrug. “Possibly.”

“So let’s—” Rafayel looks around the room. “Sit down. Your legs must ache from standing all afternoon.”

You sit down on the couch he gestures to. It’s a little relieving on the leg area. Meanwhile, Rafayel tugs his collar with a nervous swallow as he sits next to you. In his hands are two pencils and an eraser shaped like an octopus.

“So, sunset?” He asks awkwardly.

You look at his eyes and smile. “Yes. Sunset.”

“OK. Sunset.”

“Uh-huh. Sunset. Should I get the paper you ripped earlier? And the sketchbook so it can be on top of something?” You say with hands already outstretched.

“So chivalrous,” he teases, but the frown on his face makes the teasing come off as awkward. You playfully scoff to avoid embarrassing him. “Yes. Please start.”

With the paper and sketchbook on your lap, you draw the first line.

The second. The third.

Then regret it.

“Yikes.”

“Hm?”

When you look at Rafayel, he no longer looks flustered. Replacing his awkward eyes is an intense, focused gaze. You instinctively cover the “drawing” with your palm, but Rafayel’s warm fingers pulls it back.

“This will be my tattoo.” You try to avoid feeling awkward.

He studies the drawing for a few beats. Then intently at your neck.

“Press your ear like this. I want to see the space where this will go.”

Awkwardly, you turn your head and press your ear forward to fold it.

“Is it this ear?”

“Yes.”

“Portrait?”

“Yes, portrait. I want it to be visible.”

You hold the pose for a few more seconds. Rafayel’s silence is making you feel more and more flustered. He exhales, mind in mid-thought.

“What do you think? As an artist?”

“I won’t answer that,” he says earnestly, “but do you want me to change it?”

“Please,” you whisper. “I mean, that’s what the entire conversation earlier was about, anyway. A talented artist to draw my tattoo. Hopefully.”

“I’ll make a few suggestions.”

Rafayel does not take the paper on the sketchbook away from your lap. Instead, he uses the second pencil and draws on it.

This is weird.

The warmness that radiates from him—from his close proximity with you—feels quite comforting. You suddenly remember the mattress of the bed when you used to live with Grandma. It just… it felt nice. You feel your upper body lose its tension.

Plus, you can see the violet strands of his hair up close. It’s a pretty color. Maybe violet will be your favorite color, from now on.

“Here, check this out—”

You snap out of your thoughts, but you do not make it obvious.

Rafayel created two sample tattoos, following at least two of the three lines you drew. It seems like the base for his modification drawings.

“What do you think?”

Your heart starts thumping in your chest like a lion in its cage. There’s a… there’s a rush of excitement in your stomach and in your throat. This is pretty. This is genius. Rafayel is able to turn something amateur into something great and you can’t help but be amazed. “That’s infinitely better, wow!”

“Are you sure? We can do better than that. I mean, this one’s stroke is out of line…”

“Sure, but these are pretty as they are! I must owe you a huge favor for this ‘commission,’ right?”

Something changes in Rafayel’s eyes. He looks a little sheepish. “Actually.”

“Yes?”

“I know what favor to ask of you now.”

“Tell me. Strike while the iron’s hot,” strike while we’re on the topic!

“How open are you to having me as your tattoo artist?”

[elmushterri]

I filled an entire page of my sketchbook with Nori!

I love them sm!!! This has to be one of my favorite of your rewrites, I seriously did not think I could actually care abt PJ Masks past the age of 6 but now I'm obsessed 😭

On another note, just a random thing I'm curious about, before breaking off from GunnTech, did the main three basically live at the facility since they were initiated? I guess they do from what I’ve seen, but I was just wondering if they ever had to go to like. School or something, when they're not training. And if they ever got to see their family again (though I doubt both the kids and their family would want to lol)

And one more thing, totally important and necessary to ask, how does Nori acquire the kids? (..that doesnt sound right)

Like does he break in to the facility from time to time or did they just bring them with him when they left GunnTech or does he take them in when he finds them just out and about??

NORI… OUR FAVOURITE PROBLEM! The way you draw eyes scratches my brain /positive.

I think the idea is that everyone does live at GunnTech, they have rooms and go to school. GunnTech also has a prison somewhere (like, sci fi, clean, sterile white prison, a glass front-wall for cells instead of bars, and that’s where everyone gets put in Season 4. But, before that, when the main three villains (or at least, just Luna and Nori) escaped, it wasn’t totally locked down so they had to walk out suspiciously/tell the security guards reasons (you need to give reasons when leaving GunnTech so, “I’m hanging out with a friend” comes with ‘who is the friend + give us contact details’) and then probably remove a tracker (unsure as to whether the wristbands are the trackers or the trackers are put into their chest implants), and try to avoid getting caught for the rest of the time (until season 3-4 ofc). The main story probably begins with the three MCs trying to find them and bring them back. Romeo’s wanted cause he stole tech, though, he’s not a mutant.

Nori risks his life basically (not literally but he risks huge punishment) by constantly breaking into the facility to get out new kids. Kids who haven’t yet been mutated all have one room (several large rooms for many kids’ bunk beds basically, not literally one big room 😭) and he goes in and saves one or two each time. Some kids don’t *want* to come with him, thinking this is a cool superhero opportunity. He has an easier time helping kids who are scared and having second thoughts. He’s very gentle.

Also reminder that Nori had their finger prints burned off yipeeee. He’s not letting that happen to the others. (It doesn’t happen to every kid, but GunnTech probably has categories (like, heroes: animals, space, spies, drivers, healers?) and if you’re in the (name is a work in progress) Spies Category (stealth category?) like Nori, you get your finger prints burned off.

Daisy is canonically one of the only two Ninjalino names we know! I might make her into a small side character so that art isn’t 100% solid but eh!

Also he can’t really just “take them back to their parents”. If you’re a child at GunnTech, your parents either gave you away for money or you’re an orphan.

Nori’s usually a sassy ‘problem’ but they have their really serious and gentle moments.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Had this “Steve only hates impersonal nicknames” idea in my notes for a while and then after seeing @cholvoq​ ‘s wonderful art I had to turn it into a real thing for Valentine’s Day. This is 2.4k, i’m SO sorry edit: you can now read this on ao3 :)

Eddie’s a nickname guy. It’s always Dusty this and Gare-Bear that and JeffJeff here and Bobbie there and it’s Mikey and Maxxii and Nance-pants and Johnny and… big boy?

Him being a nickname guy makes it near impossible to hide his crushes. Thankfully, Steve had been really cool about it. Sure, he seemed a little stunned, but Eddie still had all his teeth in place by the end of that interaction, so he had called that a win.

He hadn’t known then that Steve was… different. Or he was starting to see it but what he thought was shocking then had really been just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t expected Steve to be nice. Or funny, or caring, or protective, or understanding.

He had learned all of that after everything. During chats on Hellfire nights while the kids cleaned up after themselves, during hangouts at the diner with Robin and Nancy, during Saturday afternoons when he went to pick out a movie only to end up talking with Steve, their conversation flowing until it was cut short by Steve’s shift ending.

After some time, Eddie had gotten to know Steve even more during long weekday nights when one came over to bring the other something they left behind, or to share a record, or to demand the beers the other owes or to show the other a stupid article in a stupid magazine only to end up making dinner together and watching a movie afterwards.

They stopped making excuses about two weeks ago.

Eddie had asked “do youuu… wanna come over?” on Saturday night, while nervously twirling his keys as Steve locked the front doors of the Family Video.

The evening chill had cut right through Eddie’s leather jacket as his keys clanged against his rings. But Steve had nodded with a smile and asked “pizza?” on their way to their cars, and Eddie had forgotten all about the cold.

Point being, Steve had been just fine with ‘big boy’ when it happened. Eddie’s a nickname guy. Him and Steve are hanging out more now, and so, Eddie’s been calling him more nicknames. Some of them are very intentional, others come completely without thinking, and it turns out, Steve takes issue with a few of them.

The first time it happens, Eddie’s underneath his van trying to get the damn thing to cooperate, the recent winter was tough on it, and it keeps dying out on him.

Steve sits nearby perched on a little stool, wearing his Family Video vest since he came by right after finishing his morning shift to see if they could make plans for lunch. Eddie suggested they grab something at the diner if and when he finally gets the van to start back up and Steve had agreed to wait.

He’s been telling Eddie about tonight’s basketball- game? match? super bowl? Is there such a thing as the major leagues of basketball? Eddie’s not sure, but he adores the sound of Steve’s voice and he’s kind of invested in the drama of players switching teams and retiring and whatever else Steve wants to tell him about. So, he’s been listening, not really bothering with asking for clarification for what he doesn’t understand yet. He’ll figure it out as they go.

He's blindly patting the floor around his legs for his rag, when he feels Steve put it right in his hand.

Eddie’s relieved. "Thanks, bud!" he says, the nickname just rolling off his tongue effortlessly, no meaning attached.

It gets kind of quiet all of a sudden. After about five seconds of Steve not talking, Eddie comes out to check on him, and finds him frowning at his legs.

"Don't call me ‘bud’" Steve requests, looking up at his face, his tone just a tad harsh. Eddie would think he ran into King Steve if he didn't know any better.

As it is, Eddie gets Steve probably thinks the nickname is childish or patronizing, so he doesn’t think twice of it, just gets a little sheepish and says "sorry, Stevie".

Steve smiles at that, a little cocky. He does his little mean girl shaking his head thing like he just got exactly what he wanted. Eddie feels his face twist a bit in confusion, but he likes it when Steve gets a little mean so he doesn't say anything about it and just dives back under his van as Steve resumes their conversation.

 The second time it happens, they’re outside the supermarket. The kids shot out of the van as soon as it rolled to a stop, Steve calling out a warning after them while still listening to Eddie explain why Star Wars and Star Trek are actually very different but really good in their own way. Their conversation carries on as they hop out of the van, lock up and walk to meet at the front.

“I’m telling you, Star Trek is great. You would love it,” Eddie says, “you just have to give it a chance”.

Steve rolls his eyes at him, but Eddie can see his smile.

“Ok, alright,” Steve answers, “you can show me tonight then”, it’s almost too nonchalant. Eddie has to hide his grin.

Steve’s been suggesting they hang out more and more lately, and he can’t help but feel a bit hopeful. They clearly enjoy each other’s company, their time together is never dull, Steve seems to be really comfortable around him and maybe, just maybe…

“Should we get beers then?” Eddie asks, excited at the prospect of some more time alone with him.  They haven’t had a weeknight hangout since Eddie fixed his van last week. He kinda misses the very specific color of Steve’s eyes in the Harringtons’ yellow living room lamplight.

“Yeah,” Steve says, his eyes get soft in a way Eddie only started noticing a couple of weeks back, “we can watch it at my place” he adds. Eddie thinks he definitely hasn’t seen him look at anyone else like that.

To shake himself out of the spell of the prettiest boy he’s ever met making the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen at him and ONLY him, Eddie grabs Steve by the wrist and starts marching them towards the supermarket’s front doors.

Without thinking, Eddie says "c'mon man," as they go.

Steve, who started easily following him (like he always does these days), suddenly stops in his tracks. Eddie gets pulled back and almost stumbles on top of Steve. He'd get flustered if Steve wasn't frowning at him like he’d just said the most insulting thing he’d heard this month.

"Don't call me ‘man’" Steve says. Eddie feels his eyebrows raise a bit.

He debates asking why but doesn't question Steve in the end. He’d rather offer understanding than judgement to him any day.

So, Eddie takes advantage of Steve's wrist in his hand, and squeezes there a bit, says "I'm sorry sweetheart" sincerely, looks into Steve's eyes so he can see Eddie means it.

Steve blushes a bit then, not really used to the nickname yet, Eddie just got the balls to start using it last week. Eddie himself is not really used to seeing Steve blush, and at something he says? It’s too much power for one metalhead.

But he gets distracted from Steve’s blush because it happens again, Steve basically preens like a peacock once Eddie switches nicknames. Looks smug, like he has Eddie wrapped around his finger and well, Eddie guesses he does, so, no arguments there either.

He just smiles back at Steve, really, has no other choice, it’s not like he can control how he reacts to the most gorgeous fucking face the universe could ever come up with. But he tugs him along again, Steve happily following this time.

The next time it happens, Steve’s leaning against his kitchen island, with Eddie leaning across from him against the counter.

The party is watching a movie in the Harringtons’ living room and at some point, Eddie got up to get himself another soda, Steve not so subtly followed after him, taking the empty popcorn bowls to the sink. He struck up a conversation and there they stayed.

Eddie’s been turning the small gesture around and around in his head. Clearly Steve’s not shy about seeking him out, and he’s obviously good with the party knowing, which means a hell of a lot because those are Steve’s people, that’s his family.

Eddie’s honestly running out of excuses to not ask him out. Seeing him reaching out to bump his sneaker against Eddie’s boot when he says something funny, laughing just a little too hard at Eddie’s dumb joke; seeing his eyes widen a bit when Eddie compliments him; seeing him notice when Eddie is holding back from talking too much, and not letting it go until he thinks Eddie’s shared all of his opinions on the subject; Eddie thinks maybe he can be brave, when it comes to Steve.

And this week might be the perfect time.

Here they are still, the movie long ended and several easy conversations floating from the living room to the kitchen, where they’re still engrossed on their own.

“I mean I taught the kid how to do his hair for god’s sake!” Steve is saying, Eddie’s laughing easily, and he has a slight suspicion Steve’s acting way more annoyed than he really is because he knows Eddie dies laughing every time Steve roasts the kids.

“Just, if he’s gonna give me hair advice, he should work on that goddamn tone. At the Very Least.” Steve finishes, Eddie giggling all the while at his Annoyed Mom tone.

"Yeah, dude!" Eddie agrees, wanting to egg him on, but Steve's face suddenly falls and whatever remark Eddie had locked and loaded just fades away.

Eddie blinks perplexed; he’s getting déjà vu.

Steve frowns at him, says "Don't call me ‘dude’".

It’s eerie, only he sounds a bit annoyed this time.

Eddie thinks, maybe someone called Steve ‘dude’ before in an unpleasant way, so he doesn't pry.  Instead, he takes the chance to call him a nickname he likes more, and says "Sorry, pretty boy", his heart fluttering in the milliseconds he has to wait for Steve’s reaction.

And it happens one last time: Steve absolutely beams at that one, his smile so bright it makes Eddie want to jump in place.

He leans further back on the counter returning the smile, not noticing the common thread in Steve’s reactions to him switching nicknames.

But then the glint in Steve’s eyes suddenly brightens a dim corner of Eddie’s brain. He gets this feeling that reminds him of a perfectly set up riddle or finding that one perfect note for his latest song. It’s like everything suddenly just makes sense.

Eddie feels realization dawn on his face as he pushes himself off the counter to walk right into Steve’s personal bubble, grabs both of Steve's hands.

"Steve" Eddie says, not even caring that he sounds like the name is dripping in honey when it comes out of his mouth. With how sweet Steve is, it might as well be.

Steve just looks at him a little stunned, but doesn't say anything. Eddie draws circles in the back of his palms to reassure him.

"Why don't you want me to call you ‘dude’?" Eddie asks, trying to find out if this whole thing is what he thinks it is.

Steve looks down at their joined hands,.

"You call Nancy that sometimes..." Steve mumbles.

His answer would sound inconsequential to the unsuspecting, certainly would have to Eddie as late as last week, but Eddie thinks he’s finally getting it, and he hums his understanding.

"How ‘bout ‘man’?" he asks

Steve replies "You call Robin that sometimes..." his eyes still on their hands.

Eddie nods his agreement.

"I call everyone those things" he points out.

Steve agrees. "Exactly" he says, finally looking at him again, sounding annoyed and confirming Eddie’s suspicions.

Eddie feels his face split into a smile. He wants to grab Steve’s beautiful freaking face and just plant one on him.

"Can I still call you sweetheart?" he ventures instead. The nickname brings the hint of a smile to Steve's face but then he seems to realize something not so pleasant.

"Do you call someone else ‘sweetheart’?" Steve asks in return.

"No one" Eddie says, shaking his head, his tone vehement.

"Then yes" Steve finally answers. Eddie's heart wants to beat right out of his chest.

He interlocks their fingers to ground himself, Steve looks down at their hands and smiles at the sight.

"So, you don't want me to call you something I call someone else?" Eddie states, more than asks, calling Steve’s eyes back to his again.

"Anyone else" Steve confirms, holding his gaze.

Eddie lets out a small shuddering exhale and feels his heart fluttering in his throat, he really cannot believe this boy.

"Steve" Eddie drawls, dripping in honey again, his hands coming up to cradle Steve's face because he really can't resist anymore "Sweetheart" he says.

Steve's eyes grow a little wide and he starts blushing so much that Eddie can feel it in his palms.

"Steevieeee" Eddie sinsongs, squeezing Steve's face a bit "Pretty boy" Eddie calls him. Steve just keeps looking at him and a small smile blooms in his pretty, pretty face.

"Would you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?" Eddie finally asks him, his fingers curling to the back of Steve's head to play with his hair there. Steve's eyes get even wider.

" 's Valentine's this Friday" he points out. Eddie knows.

"Mmhm. Want you to be my Valentine." Eddie tells him, tugs his hair gently, "How's that sound?" he asks, bold in a way he never has been before. Steve blushing does things to him.

"Sounds nice" Steve answers. He smiles and nods while his hands hook on Eddie's belt loops.

"Then it's a date?" Eddie asks, trying not to sound too eager. He thinks he fails spectacularly but Steve beams and pulls him in to kiss his cheek.

"It's a date" Steve tells him, his breath ghosting on Eddie's cheek and making him shiver.

Steve pulls back, lets go of Eddie’s belt loops and tugs on a strand of his hair gently, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he walks back out into the living room.

Eddie’s gonna make this the best Valentine’s Day date Steve has ever been on.

[thewalrusespublicist]

Hello! Love your blog and your takes, objective and sane and well researched chefs kiss! I had a blast scrolling through it like it was my feed yesterday lol can you elaborate on klaus and Paul if possible? People mostly talk about them like it’s already understood but I don’t understand 😭 I’m kinda lost on their (all of them, including stu) dynamic during the hamburg years specifically when it comes to Paul

Aww thank you anon! Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol). So I really, really needed this. :)

Oh Paul vs/and the Exsis, it's quite a long one so buckle up.

Disclaimer: all of the people involved are essentially art kids/young adults who are famously the most exhausting people on the planet. Do not blame them for being dramatic, it's their natural state of being.

If we want to go into Paul and Klaus, we have to kind of start with the John, Paul and Stu. Now these three are a mess that's too big to go into here (though I have THOUGHTS about how Stu is utilised in the Beatles narrative that I'm more than happy to share if asked lmaooo). But in short(ish):

John and Paul had had an intense year and a bit of closeness. Then John meets Stu at art college.

John and Stu become c l o s e for many reasons (being peers, living together, similar artistic leanings + ego, Stu being a gentle guide to John, sharing art projects/poetry/long letters and feelings etc.) They became 'closer than two men' a friend had seen (remind us of anyone gang?). Most importantly, John could be open about his feelings with Stu in letters. If John had BPD which I subscribe too, I think Stu was his 'favourite person' and as Aunt Mimi said his 'special' and 'closest friend' from this period up until his death (though imho the transference back to Paul was starting prior to his death).

It's not clear what exactly happens as there's differing accounts but Stu uses his money to buy a new bass as John wants him to come to Scotland then Hamburg and play bass as he will 'look good'.

Paul doesen't like being relegated to the seat behind John and Stu when he used to sit next to John. He also isn't thrilled when he gets to Hamburg and not only does he get to sleep in the other room with just Pete but Stu cannot be arsed to play because he's hanging out with his hot new girlfriend Astrid (more on her in a sec). Our boy has spent a lot of money he doesen't have and given up on further education to be here and is jealous and annoyed.

Paul and Stu probably were friends and I think their mutual antipathy is overegged. HOWEVER, can't be denied that Paul is jealous of Stu and Stu is jealous of Paul (and getting flare-ups from increasing brain damage). John and Stu tease Paul and steal his money, Paul is mean to Stu (as are the others encouraged by John). Do I think John was playing games with both of them? Yup. They end up scuffling onstage because Paul said something about Astrid (not clear what, one account is that Paul said that Stu could borrow money off Astrid if he needed it which isn't really that bad a dig but who knows Yoko??).

Why is this dynamic important? Because it directly impacts the 'Exsis' (Klaus, Jurgen and Astrid's) group's relationship with Paul:

The Exsis were young artists living in Hamburg. They were artistic, cool, interesting and edgy. They were paramount in introducing the Beatles to cool new concepts, aesthetics and ideas. They also took themselves VERY seriously ie pretentious as all hell.

Astrid met Stu at Kaiserkeller and hit it off. They embarked on an all-consuming romance.

Letter from Stu to Astrid, c.1961

I've seen people say they were the proto-John and Yoko in terms of making their romance the whole world and influencing John years down the line and I can see that. With Astrid and Stu it's far more endearing though because they ARE young and the right age to have a relationship like that. Stu is popular with the Exsis in general and brings them into the Beatles group.

The Exsis didn't like or trust Paul. Astrid said later it was because Paul was 'too nice' which she herself admits is a ridiculous reason. The others also thought he was a bit of a show-off. It makes sense though if you're cool and edgy and want to stick it to the world to be sus about a guy being friendly show-off with seemingly no inner world. The other problem was a perfectly reasonable one imo, you're not going to like your friends frenemy who you don't connect with. Compound that with Paul not taking drugs as much as George or John and being in the other room and you begin to have a division.

Paul had been popular his whole life, like from what we know since-primary-school-popular. He had never been in this position before, let alone in a foreign country. I believe it became a bit of a brutal feedback loop. Paul's response to this type of behaviour consistently it to go more surface level, snide and passive aggressive. The natural response of any group with a designated 'ugh' person is to become more shady and exclusionary. The cycle continues and gets worse. Stu letters back home at this time says that in a shocking turn of events Paul is hated by everyone but Stu 'just feels sorry for him' (lmao OF COURSE you do Stu, its giving 'loathing' from Wicked lol). Klaus drew a lot of artwork of the early Hamburg Beatles that includes this highly unpleasant picture of Paul in 1961 which I think says a lot:

Klaus is also a musician and fancies himself a place on bass. When Stu leaves to pursue art, Klaus asks John if he could take over but John says that he thinks Paul is going to do it.

Klaus has later gone on to say that he thinks he was a better bass player for the Beatles' sound at the start and then Paul developed into being better for the group. It's one of those I cannot believe those words actually left your mouth and you are not deeply embarrased moments. But it's important to keep this desire and viewpoint in mind.

Klaus stays in touch with all of them and close to John and George, George especially. They visit Klaus on holiday in tenerife in early 60s and Klaus later draws the Revolver artwork.

This whole context of how they met and Hamburg is crucial and has to be taken into account when hearing Klaus' statements. Klaus and Paul started off with a lack of connection and with Paul on the outs, the Exsis got an incomplete view of Paul and an inaccurate snapshot of the Beatles dynamic overall. This is why when Klaus says 'Paul was always slightly apart from the others' and that 'divorce was inevitable' from early 60s we should remember that that is what Klaus is expecting to see as that's what he saw in Hamburg.

Klaus wanted to be the bass player (and was holding out hope to join a band with George and John in the 70s), was really close with George and suffers as many did with 'John Lennon aspiring boy bestie syndrome' (JABBS). Paul had what Klaus wanted and from the Hamburg experience, you could see why Klaus thought he might have an in and may have been jealous of this 'shallow' Paul of all people having the connection that he felt he should/could have with John and George. As with most sufferers of JABBS, he took John's side with everything, always refused to say any regrets about his involvement in How do you Sleep and thought Paul was fine with the song because 'he was even closer to John than [he] was. (Again Klaus to put yourself in that level of closeness with John that it's comparable to Paul is ???.) JABBS and its secondary condition PMIETGSH (Paul McCartney isn't even that good shut up) are virulent diseases that incapacitate sufferers objectivity and judgement, so it's fair to say that Klaus is a source you have to take with a pinch of salt on the early 70s period.

It seems that Klaus and Paul did get on a lot better the older they got (probably without the jealousy complication of George and John) and developed a sweet friendship. Here is Klaus' tribute to Paul for his 80th:

Here is the jam session he's talking about:

He now wants Paul to live in his house lmao so things have gotten warmer. But Klaus and Paul's dynamic is a great example of how and why natural bias, little jealousies and spats can consciously or subconsciously influence our internal narrative and why we need to be so careful about not taking one perspective as gospel.

[nfr-girly]

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader // Jealousy 📚 🖼️

:: masterlist

Summary: Lately, you and Colin have been bonding over art and books, but what happens when a certain Bridgerton gets jealous?

————————————————————————

Benedict never took any interest into deciding to marry, with his family having a tradition to marry for love, not wealth, he had the freedom to focus on his art, without the pressure to find romance.

To him, romance was a burden that held you back from achieving many things, but lately, Benedict had second guessed all his thoughts on love.

For the past few weeks, ever since Colin found out you like to read, you two have been meeting continuously in the gardens to discuss your latest reads. At first, Benedict thought it was nice you and Colin were starting to bond, he was glad you had another bridgerton to confide in, alongside himself. But as days turned into weeks, Benedict felt a burn in his chest as he sees your interest slowly turn away from him, and towards his brother.

Benedict and you had met at an event, you both bonded of your shared liking of the arts, and although to many in the ton, your friendship may have seemed inappropriate, Violet bridgerton never thought for one second your friendship was wrong.

However, friendship seemed to be a heavy understatement to describe what you two had, neither of you would admit it, but you both knew some feelings were there. Your mother was very adamant on you marrying someone with a high status, like a viscount, or duke, which is why she never considered Benedict as a suitor. “He’s a lovely gentleman, but his status is too low, perhaps his brother the viscount would be a better suit for you?” She would say.

Oh but you wish she did approve him. Your feelings for Benedict never went away, every time he was near you felt planets away, just out of reach of something special.

So when the younger brother of Benedict, Colin came to you, taking an interest in your latest read, you didn’t hesitate to start discussing it with him.

You never once thought Benedict and you would ever happen, maybe some time with another bridgerton would help those feelings die down?

As weeks went by, you did miss Benedict, you felt bad you were starting to spend time with Colin more, but every time you and him made eye contact, the longing in your heart grew, and it needed to be contained.

Benedict missed you tremendously, he always tried to find a moment to talk to you, just to know even one thing about what you’ve been up to. But Colin would always steal you away.

What did you even see in Colin that you didn’t see in him? He would listen to you talk about books for hours, if it just meant you’d go back to him.

*at the bridgerton house*

You’re waiting for Colin in the library, looking through some books, when you see in the corner of your eye a tall figure

You turn your head to see Benedict, you haven’t seen or talked to him in a while, both of you freeze seeing one another.

“Benedict. I haven’t seen you for a while, how have you been?” You say to him slowly walking towards him, hoping to make conversation, instead he furiously strides towards you

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He asks with a stern face

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, you’ve spent almost a month going off with Colin talking about god knows what while I’m here missing you like some idiot” he’s mad now, he doesn’t understand why you have to ignore him to hang out with his brother

“I’m sorry, I’m sure we can arrange something-“

“Do you have any idea how much my heart has burned for you? You are the only thing I think about when I go to sleep, the only thing I think about when I wake up and you aren’t even there. I don’t know if I’ve done something but tell me so I can fix it. I’m tired of wishing you weren’t so far away.” Benedict comes to a stop, instantly regretting everything that just came out his mouth

“Do you really feel that way?” You ask, the warmth in you blossoms and that desire to be closer to him now grows

“Of course I have. I’ve felt it since the moment you spoke to me. I know your mother doesn’t want you to be with me, and maybe you don’t want to be with me either, but I won’t deny how I feel, you are the whole reason I breathe, every time you are near time stops and the only thing in the room is you. My mind goes insane because I can’t ignore the fact that I want you-“ before he can say anything else, you grab his shirt and pull him in to kiss him. He widens his eyes, but realising what’s going on, immediately kisses you back. He holds your cheeks to pull you in more. The whole room spins, the only thing you two care about in this moment is eachother.

You pull away and look into his eyes, so much desperation and desire painted across his face

”I’m sorry I’ve been away” you say softly

“It’s okay, you’re mine now, that’s all that matters” he laughs softly as he pulls you in for another kiss, harder than the last. Years of built up desire now let out, pulling the weight off of both your shoulders.

————————————————————————

a/n: it’s Benedict’s season soon 😝 I hope you guys enjoyed thisss! 🫶

[mrsshabana]

𝐀 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐁𝐨𝐲

❀ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, taisho era, pure fluff

❀ Note So I decided to write an alternate ending to that Gyutaro comic that's been going around. I won't share it here because I don't want to post someone's art without their permission, but I've seen it all over Pinterest. If you haven't seen it, basically Gyutaro is working in a garden and three girls shout to him from their window. They ask him to come up and hang out with them. He becomes flustered and says, "Wait... really?" and then they say, "You really thought we were serious?" and start laughing at him and making fun of him, calling him a loser - causing him to run away in embarrassment. When I first saw that comic it broke my heart so I had to write something to give Gyutaro the ending he deserves.

He shouldn’t have been so gullible. But can you blame him? Girls never notice him, or if they do it’s always in a negative way. So the one time some cute girls asked him to hang out with them, of course he got excited. But it was just a cruel joke. 

After being so cruelly embarrassed, Gyutaro scurried away in a hurry. Trying to hide his tears so as not to embarrass himself further. 

He sits under a tree, away from view, and cries. Sobbing into the sleeve of his yukata, 

“I’m so stupid…” the boy whimpers. 

The weight of it all bearing down on him. He’s going to be a joke forever, isn’t he? No girl would show kindness to him, let alone give him a chance. As he soaks his yukata with tears his heart gets crushed by the rejection. 

Until someone���s voice calls out to him, “Hey! Garden boy!”

He looks up and sees a beautiful girl coming his way. He quickly wipes his tears and tries to hide the fact that he’s been crying. 

“Wh-what do you want?” 

“I wanted to join you, is that ok?” you say with a smile.

“No, I’m not an idiot,” he frowns, “I-I won’t fall for it again!” He tries his best to stand up for himself.

Your cheery expression shifts to one of sadness as you sit beside him, “Listen, I saw what happened.”

Gyutaro feels even more embarrassed now, knowing that you saw how he was rejected by those other girls. He wishes he could just hide and never face anyone again.

He looks down and says nothing, utterly ashamed. 

“Don’t listen to them, any girl would be lucky to spend an afternoon with you.” You gently place your hand on his shoulder.

“You’re lying… I’m disgusting… I’m a loser,” his voice quivers and his eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“No, you’re not! I’ll prove it to you.”

He quirks a brow and stares at you. What could you possibly mean?

You lean forward and kiss him. Softly pressing your lips against his. 

Immediately his entire face turns red. He can’t believe that just happened. If anything was going to shut up his insecurities, it would be a kiss from a cute girl. 

“I-I…” he stutters. 

You chuckle, “I’ve had a crush on you for a while. I never said anything because I was too shy. But when I saw how those girls treated you I felt like I had to say something.”

“A crush? On me…?” his eyes widen and he stares at you in disbelief. 

You nod, “I’ve watched you tend to the gardens here for a while,” you say shyly, “I think you’re really cute.”

This definitely made up for the embarrassment he had gone through earlier. Not only are you cuter than those other girls, but you’re really sweet too. Other girls don’t even come close to him because they find him too repulsive. But you actually kissed him! So there’s no doubt in his mind that your words are true. 

“W-Well um… I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you sometime,” he says as he shyly rubs the back of his neck. 

“I’d love that! I live in the blue house over there,” you point to the other side of the garden, “You should come by when you’re done working.”

His face heats up as he imagines visiting you at your home, “O-Ok, I’d like that.”

Before leaving you give him a kiss on the cheek. 

Excited to see you again, he quickly gets back on his feet and works like he was never rejected in the first place. Honestly, he’s never worked so fast.

[amenalyme]

So I went to Desucon Frostbite!!

So long story short I’d heard good things about artist alleys in Finland and had been trying and failing to get into one for some time. But then by some miracle Desucon finally let me in! so me and my dear friend @kotikaleo went there. It was both of ours first con in Finland and my first time selling outside the Baltics.

This was our table. And ohh did people not lie about the Finnish artist alleys - it was insanely busy I’ve never seen masses like this in front of my table before. I think since the first people came up until the very end of the selling period there was MAXIMUM 5 minutes when there was nobody in front of the table and it took like an hour before we could even get a proper picture

needless to say it was my best sales yet at any event, which is especially insane considering we only had one day for selling. I definitely hope to come back here in the future

Additionally this was all of the stuff I bought

I was really bad at taking usernames this time so alas I don’t have names for most of them (but i can probably find if needed)

But I especially wanna draw attention to the slugcat print and Hunter charm - by @ javicterry on instagram. From what they said they were seen as The Rain World artist at finnish cons and I LOOVEd the initial interaction when they came to our table like “I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE !!!”. We also got to hang out a bit on the second day of the event and after the con and it was really nice. It was my first time seeing someone I didn’t already know selling rw art at a con and I’d been looking forward to that happening. I really hope we can interact more in the future

Speaking of cool finnish rain world artists-

I already showed this before but of course I have to mention it again for this summary post. But I got to meet @excessive-moisture as well!! Since I first did the Moon in a suit cosplay we’d been floating around the idea of meeting at a con at some point since neighboring countries and all so I’m so so happy we actually got to make it happen. I was a bit nervous that the interactions would not go smoothly and it’d just turn into slightly awkward onesided fan behavior on my end but noooo it actually went really really well and it was a nice egoboost to see someone I semi-look-up-to see me as a cool person as well. Holding out hope we can make something happen again in the future

As mentioned I was cosplaying Moon again. I actuallyyyy didn’t get more than a couple pictures and none of them even from myself. The first day I was busy sitting at my artist table and the second day I was busy sitting at various other artist and not artist tables and fighting stomach problems

but here’s the little bit that I do have. Saturday in a suit and Sunday with the regular white cloak Moon

(I forgot to put on the gloves in that one but shhhh)

I wish Id had the energy to walk around more but its fine i still had a good time for the most part

Also no smooth transition for this one but here’s also a collection of art exchanges between some people, including myself!

I just thought it was cool :) theres a few more things that arent visible bc they were either on other sketchbook pages or the person wasn’t there at that moment

ANYWAY the event was really great im so glad i went. Probably going to stay as one of my top favorite con experiences for a long time. I hope to be back someday, at least at other cons in Finland! As for general cons I currently have no confirmed ones for the future but I applied to and hope to be at J-Tsoon 6 in Tallinn 🇪🇪 and Comic Con Baltics in Vilnius 🇱🇹 in spring!

[tiramisuucakeee]

HOTLINE BLING ★

( reader x yang jungwon )

IN WHICH: on a boring day, jungwon decides to call an unknown number, wanting to prank them. but it backfires.

read more !

‘ hello? ’

‘ hi, is this the young maternity center? ’

‘ no it’s me. keeho stop fucking bothering me ’

‘ who’s keeho? ’

‘ oh ’

‘ hello?! amir, i need you to deliver food immediately, i’m in the ice age. if you get here in under ten minutes, i will give you two dollars tip ’

‘ okay, whoever you are, stop this prank calling, i’m literally not in the mood for this ’

‘ do you not want your tip? ’

‘ goodbye ’

‘ hello bro, i’m travis scott-y, i need 200 dollars to get back to america ’

‘ oh really? how do i know you’re travis scott? ’

‘ fein fein fein fein fein ’

‘ shut up, stop calling me already, oh my god ’

‘ but you literally asked me to — ’

‘ hold on, listen! please don’t hang up on me! ’

‘ what do you want? ’

‘ to say hi, i’m jungwon, what’s your name? ’

‘ nunya ’

‘ nunya…? ’

‘ none of your business ’

‘ it’s four in the morning, what could you possibly want jungwon? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hello? ’

‘ you remembered my name! — ’

‘ hey, i’m on my way to the east building on campus, giselle, are you sure macro is on class 2-B? ’

‘ now look who’s the one calling me ’

‘ oh, sorry, i got you mixed up with a friend from uni, didn’t realize ’

’ it’s okay, it happens… so, you’re an econ student? ’

‘ yeah, first year ’

‘ cool, cool. me too. well, not econ. i’m in art school. you know, i never got your name… ’

‘ yeah, because you don’t know who i am ’

‘ well, what’s your name? ’

‘ y/n ’

‘ now i know who you are ’

‘ takes more than that ’

‘ so. y/nnie, first year econ student, i have a preposition for you, one that you can’t deny ’

‘ don’t call me that… ’

‘ let me tell you something first ’

‘ what’s that? ’

‘ want to go out for coffee? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hellooo ’

‘ are you dumb? you’re literally asking a stranger to meet you, what if i’m a criminal or something? you have absolutely no survival instincts ’

‘ so… do you wanna go? ’

‘ you’re paying? ’

‘ of course, i’ll make up for all the prank calls ’

‘ i don’t think anything will make up for that, but okay, maybe just a small part of it ’

‘ great. meet me at your uni’s entrance at 6 ’

‘ how would you know what uni i go to — ’

‘ i have my ways. maybe just a feeling ’

‘ you’re genuinely weird ’

‘ see you later y/nnie ’

‘ you’re impossible ’

‘ did you get back to your dorm safely? ’

‘ yeah, thanks for driving me back to the complex ’

‘ it’s nothing. thank you for accepting to meet up, i didn’t think you’d show up '

‘ why? ’

‘ survival instincts? ’

‘ right, well my survival instincts want me to go to sleep since i have classes all day tomorrow ’

‘ oh yeah, yeah, don’t let me keep you here ’

‘ wasn’t planning on it ’

‘ goodnight y/nnie ’

‘ goodnight… won ’

‘ hey, want to go out today? it’s been years ’

‘ you saw me last week, and we call every day ’

‘ so? ’

‘ alright, you’re coming shopping with me, i need some things for a project. all your calling made me start on it later than the rest, this is your fault ’

‘ eughh, i don’t wanna go do that ’

‘ fine, we can do whatever you want after ’

‘ that’s more like it, i’ll go ’

‘ okay ’

‘ so it’s a date? ’

‘ what? ’

‘ nothing — ’

‘no, i heard you. are you serious? ’

‘ uhhhhhhh, yes? maybe? i don’t know? ’

‘ good, so it’s a date ’

‘ wait, really?! ’

‘ unless you don’t want it to be ’

‘ no! i mean — yes! yes yes yes, okay, i’ll pick you up from your dorm, text me when you’re almost ready, i’m going to go get you flowers ’

‘ okay… see you, won — jungwon ’

‘ don’t act like that now, i can hear you smiling and grinning like crazy and kicking your feet ’

‘ no. you cannot ’

‘ uhuh, see ya ’

EXTRA:

masterlist.

[pancake404]

Catnap and Baba Chops Headcanons(?) + Artwork

So I made this collection of drawings with Catnap and Baba Chops. I think these two would be interesting as a pair whether friends or more.

Without text:

Now I had a couple of ideas regarding these two.

Now these two would make up an interesting duo as both seemed to be either described or behave in reserved ways and both are most likely introverts. However both share a morbid or creepy aura when interacted with or near, both seem to be the odd one out, and both have a history of them hunting or killing Dogday(in the factory).

Also both have their connection to more religious themes like with Catnap being about heretics and worship of the Prototype and Baba Chops, being a sheep which has quite a bit of connection to religion in their variety of ways.

They still have their differences such as Baba Chops being quite the surprise hunter and violent sheep while Catnap cares more about the Prototype worship than his own stomach.

These two tend to have a lot in common annd they are perfect to participate in a haunted house as they would traumatize the other critters.

I decided to add some of my headcanons/ideas of these two.

In my head, I imagine them to be critters who at one point before Catnap joined Dogday, used to be quite close. They were always together and they always understood each other, Catnap was one of the few that Baba was willing to open up to and wanted to hang out with.

But when Catnap joined the Smiling Critters(more or less specifically Dogday), they separated and Baba began have hatred over the dog who in her eyes, stole Catnap away. Due to this drift and other issues regarding beef between the Nightmare and Smiling Critters, their relationship began getting weird as Baba is more desperate to bring back Catnap, even started acting a bit aggressive and obsessive while Catnap struggles to decide between his new friends or Baba(as well as the other Nightmare Critters as he might’ve been friends with them too).

Whenever a rare physical altercation does happen(probably the reason being Dogday), Baba Chops’s usual weapon of choice is a scythe(you know…skull = death = grim reaper). Catnap also is dangerous in his own way and let’s just say these two are unhinged and dangerous in a physical fight.

To add further onto this, I drew a more demonic form of Baba Chops whenever she starts getting more frustrated or pushed far enough. She has many sharp teeth which she hides being her basic grin. Her claws showing looking similar to the Prototype claws.

Because the show introduces a dragon, a unicorn, Catnap’s mysterious red smoke in the show, and probably cartoon logic, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was some additional magic involved so I figured an idea where Baba Chops, the critter representing death, would have such a form.

Whether you see these two as a romantic pairing or not, regardless, here are them dancing. Baba Chops hates dresses while Catnap obsesses over the idea of “dress to impress” especially on special occasions like dancing. Of course he decided to wear white, opposite of Baba’s tendency to wear dark colors.

Now I haven’t seen a name yet(or I haven’t found one) of the pairing so I have an idea…it could be called “Sacrificial Sheep”….hire me(this is more of a joke).

Still, they have some pleasure and calmness with each other’s company.

I’m not sure if you noticed or not, but both their pendants have a glow to them or rather Catnap’s moon pendant does like it glows in a dark for a nightlight while Baba has her pendant have a black aura around it like it absorbs light instead of emitting it.

I hope you enjoyed the art and explanation. I was thinking of making my own Smiling Critters story/comic showing these ideas as I think there is a lot of potential with these characters to make something interesting.

I have some ideas I might introduce in the future but in the meantime, have a great day.

What do you guys think of the idea of Catnap being a former friend/member of the Nightmare Critters?

[shuavez]

2:58am — j.ww

tags/warnings — waiter!wonwoo x reader. no warnings!

a/n — i love pancake parlour. that’s it that’s the fic.

The diner is quiet, save for the soft hum of the company Spotify playlist filling the air and the occasional sound of banter drifting from the kitchen, where the cooks are talking about anything but the food. The bright lights above cast a muted glow over the half-empty tables, the remnants of late-night customers already cleared away.

You’re finishing up wiping down already-clean tables, the cloth warm and damp in your hands, the rhythmic motion soothing after hours of not much happening. The clock on the wall ticks lazily toward 3 a.m., and it’s just you and Wonwoo left.

“God, it’s dead tonight,” you mutter, pushing the last of the crumbs off a booth with a sigh. You glance over at Wonwoo, who’s leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

He looks up at you, his lips curling into a smile. “At least we have a place to ourselves.” He’s always so calm, always managing to make even the dullest hours feel comfortable.

“True,” you reply, leaning on the counter next to him. “I’m almost too comfortable. I feel like we should start a podcast or something. ‘Pancake Philosophy.’ I mean, we have all the time in the world for deep, philosophical conversations, right?”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I’m not sure you’re ready for my thoughts. Some of them are too deep for you.” His voice is playful, but you catch the hint of affection behind the teasing.

“Too deep, huh?” you tease back, grinning. “I bet you’re the type of guy to have a secret stash of journals filled with all your musings.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, but his smile lingers, as it always does when you’re around. “If I had a secret stash, I’d probably burn it. Who needs to remember all that nonsense?”

“I think you secretly want to be a philosopher. Bet you’ve thought about it,” you poke, leaning in a little, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Maybe.” He looks at you, his expression softening a little. “Maybe I just want to be good at something.”

“Pretty sure you’re already good at everything, Wonwoo,” you reply, giving him a half-hearted eye roll. “I can barely get my one job done, and you’re over here making pancakes look like art and being wise at the same time.”

He laughs at that, shaking his head. “You’re being dramatic. But you do have a point. I’m good at pancakes.”

“You’re the best at pancakes,” you affirm, nudging him with your shoulder. It’s playful, easy—like it’s always been between you two. There’s a smoothness to your friendship, a shared understanding without needing to say much. You’ve both been here countless times before, these quiet hours at the end of the night, and it’s always felt like home.

From the back, you hear Jeonghan’s voice echoing out to the front of the diner. “You two still here? I’m done with you. Go home already.”

You glance up at the clock—it’s almost 3 a.m., and he’s right. You’ve been finished with your shift for a while now, but there’s something nice about hanging around with Wonwoo, the air light and comfortable.

“Well, guess we’re done,” you say, gathering your stuff and heading toward your usual booth. “I’m not gonna complain about leaving early, but I swear, one of these days, I’m going to be too good at this job.”

Wonwoo falls in step beside you, nursing a stack of pancakes the cooks had kindly prepared for your knockoff. “I’m sure you’ll make it to employee of the month eventually. Don’t worry.”

“You’re really gonna stick with that ‘employee of the month’ thing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “At this rate, I’m more likely to get ‘most likely to break something before the end of my shift.’”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you’ve already won that award. Multiple times.”

“Rude.” You give him a playful shove as you both walk to the far booth in the corner of the diner, slipping into your usual seats. “I’m not that bad.”

Wonwoo chuckles, reaching immediately for a fork. “Let’s be real—if anyone’s gonna break something, it’s you.” He smirks, poking idly at the edge of a pancake.

You roll your eyes again, grabbing the syrup and drizzling it over the pancakes that still sit between you two. “I’m not that clumsy, alright? I can handle a few spatulas and a knife without causing a catastrophe.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his smile widening. “If you say so.��

You settle into a comfortable silence after that, just the sound of your forks scraping against plates filling the air. It’s a simple, ordinary moment, but it’s perfect in its own way. You’re used to this—eating pancakes at 3 a.m., laughing over the stupidest things, making fun of each other like friends do. But tonight, something’s different.

After a while, Wonwoo finally speaks again, his voice a little softer, more serious. “Hey, uh… I was thinking.”

You glance up at him. “That’s dangerous. You thinking always leads to something weird.”

He laughs, but there’s something nervous in it. “Maybe. But, uh… you wanna go out sometime? Like, outside of work?” His words stumble over each other, but you catch the sincerity in them, the way his gaze lingers just a little longer than usual.

You freeze, your fork halfway to your mouth, and blink. Wonwoo’s never been the type to make bold moves—he’s always been the quiet one, the one who observes more than speaks. The idea of him asking you out feels like something out of a dream.

“Like a date?” you ask, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he confirms, voice quiet but earnest. “I mean… I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Just didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t want to make things weird.”

You stare at him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, and a slow smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that,” you say softly. “I think I’d really like that.”

Wonwoo visibly relaxes, his smile returning, this time warmer. The tension that was there just a moment ago melts away, and the air between you two feels lighter. He looks down at his half-empty plate, suddenly unsure again. “I’ll… figure out when and where. I’ll make it good, I promise.”

After a few minutes, you finish the last bite of your pancakes, and you both slide out of the booth. The night air hits you both as you walk toward your car, the cool breeze stirring the stillness around you. There’s a slight unease in the air, but it’s not bad—just new.

There’s a pause—an almost awkward silence, but it’s filled with the weight of unspoken feelings, the kind that have been lingering in the air for far too long. Wonwoo shifts on his feet, then looks at you, his voice low and careful. “Can I… can I kiss you?”

The question, so polite and sincere, takes you by surprise. It’s almost as if he’s asking for permission to release something that’s been building between you two. You nod, a little breathless, and his hand comes to rest gently at your side.

He leans in slowly, cautiously, like he’s afraid he might break the fragile tension between you. When his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft at first—tentative, almost awkward, as if both of you are learning how to fit together in this new way. But then, with a shift of his weight, a soft sigh against your lips, it changes.

The kiss deepens, the rhythm coming naturally now as you both move in sync. It’s a release, an exhale of everything unsaid, and you lose yourself in the warmth of it. His lips are gentle yet insistent, his hand tentatively brushing the side of your face, and you can feel the quiet urgency that’s been hidden beneath the surface.

Just when you’re beginning to lose track of time, a voice breaks through the moment.

Jeonghan’s leaning against the door, holding a trash bag. “Well, look at that,” he says with a sly grin, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been counting down the days until Wonwoo grew a pair.”

You laugh, pulling away from Wonwoo with a grin, and Jeonghan’s teasing only makes the moment feel more real.

“I’ll text you,” you say to Wonwoo, quickly pulling out your phone and setting a time and place. The promise of a real date, outside of work, feels like something new and exciting.

As you drive away, the taste of hot fudge and maple syrup lingers on your lips, mixing with the sweet anticipation of what’s to come.

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

When i saw you dropped the shino fic, i damn near broke my ankle running to read that shit. It’s gold. I love how jealous Shino is, his internal monologues, how much of a goof he is, how he’s already imagining marrying the girl? 😩💦 I hc him as being totally fine with dying alone tbh lol romance isn’t his *thing* per sé but holy shit when little plant girly came tumbling into his life? He regrets ever looking forward to growing old and alone. Him jumping 70 steps ahead in his mind fits the bill perfectly. We love a lovesick dork.

If you’d drop the raunchy part two, I would absolutely die happy. Is it Shino’s first time? Is it gonna be clumsy and sweet and then he gets the hang of it so quickly their neighbors are filing complaints in the morning? (They’re still at it by then lmaooooo) I’m shriveling into a raisin until you post it.

Ever grateful!!!!!! I love your work!!!!!!!!!!

- 🌱anon

i took it upon myself to rewrite this mf because it wasn't up to code - i hope this meets your expectations, thank you for the wonderful request, i had so much fun with it

The Art of Mutual Pleasure

The Art of Mutual Growth (pt. 1)

Pairing: Shino x f!Reader

Summary: Picking up right where we left off, they go back and have a quick little conversation before getting down to business. Shino's quite the quick learner.

W/c: 4.3k (i'm sorry y'all i promise it's mostly smut)

Warnings: Virgin!Shino, Experienced!Reader, them talking about it, jealousy, swearing, oral (m receiving), p in v (i hate that term idk), lil bit of edging, creampie, lmk if I missed anything

Notes: we switched the pov to yours instead of shino's - y'all gotta tell me how i did because smut is not my forté, i'm literally begging (like Shino's about to do)

Masterlist💿

You were so lucky. As Shino's right hand gripped your left thigh, his sturdy forearm supporting you, you thanked every star in the sky for making this moment possible. Never, in your wildest dreams, did you think your silly crush on your neighbour would turn into such a public display.

Fuck, were you ever lucky.

Getting to feel Shino's soft, full lips clumsily move against yours assured you that there was something truly good guiding the universe. You guided the kiss as he walked down the street, too preoccupied with trying to keep you up, while going the short distance to the building, to give you the kiss you anticipated to come in your apartment. It was finally happening. You had wished he would have been the one to kiss you first, but you felt such courage when you pulled him forward. Now, your enthusiasm lead you, too excited to get into your head.

He was so strong. And his hands were so large. Not the once did Shino falter in his hold on you, but his stride began to stutter as he started to ascend the stairs to your shared floor. Winding up the six flights of stairs to the floor, Shino's foot took an invisible step at the top most stair and would have dropped had you not been holding him just as strongly.

In the stumble, Shino bit your lip, scraping against the skin harshly enough to draw a spot of blood. As he pulled back, he seemed to take stock of the injury and frowned deeply.

"Fuck, I'm sorry." Gently, Shino leaned down and you got the message, reluctantly putting your feet on the ground. Bringing his hand to your jaw, Shino pulled your lip down with his thumb, saying even more remorse, "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean t-"

"Stars above, Shino, you didn't cut off my finger," you laughed, shaking your head out of his grasp before taking his hand and swinging open the door to the hallway. You looked at him, grinning, "C'mon."

Pulling him away as he stuttered an agreement, you marched him down the hallway, pulling your keys out of your pocket with your free hand. There was no struggle for your key this time, as you pulled it out easily, slipped it into the door, and popped the lock with a click, all within a moment. You opened the door widely, pulling Shino in behind, then shut the door behind him.

Immediately, you took the box from him, putting it on the couch before pushing him against the door. Shino let a small whimper escape his lips as you bounced to your toes, pressing your lips to his again. You brushed your tongue against his bottom lip, politely asking for more. The blood from your lip seeped into both of your mouths as Shino hesitantly opened his mouth. In the action, you moved forward to deepen the kiss, but your teeth clashed against Shino's - it was strange. It had to just be a jitter, you thought.

Continuing on, you slipped your tongue into Shino's mouth, eager for him to finally kiss you with the gusto that he had been withholding for so long.

But, his tongue met yours oddly; almost too forcefully, yet so very meekly.

You pulled away and pressed a more chaste kiss to his lips as you dropped to your feet. Shino's face had a slight sheen, looking at you with his brows knit and his mouth still open. He looked nervous.

It was your fault for coming on too strong. Maybe Shino preferred to take things slow, maybe he was more about passion than vigour. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Do you want anything, my sweet bug boy? A tea, a biscuit...?" You asked slowly, maintaining a sultry tone.

With another quiet whimper, Shino breathlessly replied, "I want you, I need you... I just... I-I'm..."

Placing your arms over Shino's shoulders, your arms together behind his head. Playing with a tuft of his beautiful brown hair between two of your fingers, you looked at him patiently, waiting for him to tell you what he felt he needed to. Shino wasn't very good with words, that much was true, but he would always reach the finish line. You tried not to worry, so you kept the idea of what was to come in the forefront of your mind.

"Do you love me romantically, or platonically?" He asked suddenly, giving up on what he was going to say.

You grinned, "I love you, both ways, so much." Popping up on your toes, you pressed a kiss to Shino's cheek.

"If you love me so much, why did you go out to dinner with Kiba?"

It was a fair question, you supposed. But there was something deeper that was bothering Shino, and you started to worry in earnest.

"Kiba and I are friends, you know that."

To your distress, Shino shook his head. "Friends don't go out to dinner with each other, alone."

"We did!" You said, exasperated. Walking further into the apartment, still looking at Shino you went on, "You and I wine and dine all the time, and we were just friends, until a second ago."

"Mhm," he hummed sharply, following you to the kitchen. "I don't know if it's been made obvious yet, or not, but I wanted you as more than a friend the whole time; Kiba does too, I can tell."

Man, fuck.

You were about to have the best night of your fucking life, but of course, your whorish habits got in the way. Rubbing your face as you got the kettle from the stove, you lamented every man's path you had crossed before Shino's. Men had just become easier to speak to - in training, in jest, in escapades. You wished that was never the case - that you had been a recluse, saving yourself for this moment.

"I won't go out with him again, okay?" You said, voice wavering as you filled up the kettle under the tap.

Shino just frowned, bringing his hand to his lip to fidget with the plush skin. It made your own frown deepen, feeling a pinch in your heart. Slowly, as if not wanting the answer, Shino asked, "Has he ever asked you out-out before?"

"Yes," you answered honestly. Shino covered his mouth and you couldn't make out his reaction as you put the kettle to the stove, turning it on. "He asked me out to a more romantic dinner, only once, and hasn't asked me again, since."

You had declined Kiba's offer two months ago, hoping that Shino would be the one soon enough. That hope had dwindled some, but you never lost it. 

You always wanted Shino, but you were constantly doubting the potential of him seriously wanting you. Maybe you were just close-by, and therefore, the convenient option. The easy option. 

Slut.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, leaning over the stove, not facing the man you yearned for.

Not saying a thing, Shino got the silver tea tray out of your cabinet. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, feeling that pinch on your heart morph into a twist and pull. Putting the tray down a counter over, Shino stood behind you, his hot breath fanning down the back of your neck. You were ready to cry, but Shino's rich cadence saved you from the squeeze in your chest.

"I'm not mad... just... jealous."

Turning on your heel, you realized Shino was much closer than you had thought. Lowly, you heard the thrum of his bugs, and your lip twitched to smile before your thoughts bore back down on you.

Slut-slut-slut-slut-slut. Slut. Whore. Can't make girl friends? Why? 'Cause you're a whore. You can't even do right by Shino, the man who helped you discover the realness of the spark. You just love a free meal, don't you? Just love a bit of company, hm? Can't stand to be alone for even an hour? Why? 'Cause you're a slut. 

The village bike, that's what people used to call you, back home. It wasn't true, you only ever had five boyfriends, but they all had loose lips. You just wondered how Shino would feel about your nickname, and your head pounded at the idea.

"Petal, please," Shino begged, snapping you out of your thoughts. His expression was so, so sad, which only made you feel worse. You crossed your arms over yourself as Shino put his hands on either side of your face, making you look at him. "I'm sorry, it's okay. I'm not mad."

"You should be," you whispered.

"Was it just a meal?"

"Yeah, but... just... fuck sake, if you're... ugh," you groaned, taking in the fact that you had been going out on platonic dates, in front of Shino, the whole time. You put your forehead on his chest, sinking into him. "I've been torturing you for months, Shino. And, even though I haven't ac-actually been with any of the men from the Hidden Leaf... I... Shino, I'm- I'm not a, ah, a virgin."

Your confession must have come as a shock, because Shino's breath stuttered heavily and a wave of heat rolled off of his body. Just waiting for him to make his decision, to regret ever having touched you, you pressed your head to his chest, trying to get whatever contact you could before he would leave forever.

"Is... it okay that I am?"

You scoffed, "I don't believe you, but, of course that would be okay. If it were true."

"It is," Shino replied, almost sounding a bit defensive. You looked up at him, to see him looking down at you softly. "Why would I lie about... that?"

A beat of silence passed over the two of you, his hands still on your face. The pad of Shino's right thumb feathered across the apple of your cheek, as if he were afraid that a more impassioned movement would scare you away like a doe. You couldn't help but smile up at Shino, shrugging slightly.

"I think a better question would be; do you really want me to be your first?" You asked, tone light but still gravely serious.

To your surprise, Shino immediately nodded fervidly. "I want you to be my first everything," he hummed, taking his left hand from your face to hold your waist closer, leaning down. "We'll find something you haven't done, one day."

Capturing your lips with his, Shino kissed you again, and his inexperience became very clear. His zeal supported him majorly, but there was still no clear rhythm to fall into.

So, you made the rhythm. Moving together like puzzle pieces, you guided your lips against Shino's, dominating the kiss in the gentlest way you could. Trying again, your tongue dashed against his bottom lip, and Shino carefully parted his lips and slipped his tongue in your mouth. It caught you off-guard, but you kissed Shino harder, establishing a properly dominant role as your tongues swirled together in a delicious Tango.

"I'm going to take good care of you, beautiful bug boy," you promised him between kisses.

Into your mouth, Shino let a shaky groan fall. You caught it up graciously, moving the kettle off the burner with one hand while the other trailed up his surprisingly muscular arm. Stuttering, you squeezed his bicep and he instinctively flexed against you, making you hum against him.

"Let's get these layers off of you."

As Shino nodded, you unzipped his flak jacket and ran your fingers up his sides, then over his arms to peel off the vest. You cast it to the ground, moving your hands up the black sleeves of his shirt, bumping along the various insignia on the sleeves. Maintaining soft, alluring kisses, you turned your bodies and started backing out of the kitchen.

The goal was your bed, just a few paces through the living room. You would have been fine ripping through the shoji that thinly divided the alcove where your bed lay, but Shino's feet tangled with yours halfway through the open floor of the living room.

You toppled back. Shino tried to catch you, but he was just pulled down with you. Without much thought, you called the vines forward and they caught both you and Shino, dumping you both onto the ground with a softer thud.

Immediately, Shino gasped, "Are you okay?"

"Just fine. Eager," you assured him, drawing as much breath as you could in a few intakes before leaning up and capturing Shino's worried lips.

Grasping his strong shoulders, you brought him down on you harder, feeling a distinct pain in your back that melted into a thrumming heat. You pulled Shino down, to the ground beside you, and moved to straddle his waist, feeling a very large bulge where you sat.

"Stars, you're pretty," Shino sighed, sweeping his hands over your clothed thighs. One stayed while the other curled around your waist, tugging you forward.

Grinding down on him, feeling his bulge growing even larger, you put your hands on either side of his head. Admiring how his hair splayed behind him, you giggled, "You're prettier, Shino."

"Jester. Kiss me."

"Okay, pretty boy." You leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose. "So gorgeous." You kissed his left cheek. "Handsome as anything." You kissed his chin, smiling mischievously as he opened his mouth to finally kiss you again.

"You're cruel," Shino groaned, pulling you down and moving your hip in a slight circle.

Deepening the movement, you rolled your hips forward, and his cock twitched against you, massive and crying for your attention. Shino whimpered beneath you, making an intense warmth spread through your body. Seeing a small portion of Shino's midriff exposed, you touched his chilled skin and dragged your fingers along his bare side, which made Shino shiver. You loved to tease him, he responded so vehemently.

"What's the rush, love bug?" You asked, making Shino's face flame red. You kissed his other cheek, letting your nose touch his as you hovered above him. "You're all mine now, and we have all the time in the world."

"You don't know how long I've wanted to hear those words come from your pretty lips," he whispered, leaning forward but not stealing the kiss. "Please, Y/n, I need you. Please."

"Ooh, I like it when you beg," you remarked, elation in your tone. You rolled your hips against him again, making a breathy groan come from Shino. You hummed, creating a steady roll against him, "Tell me what you're thinking, Shino, and I'll give you what you want."

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, you move down slightly to press a myriad kisses along Shino's jaw and neck. Finding his pulse point, you nipped it and Shino gasped, "Fuck, uhm, I'm thinking about... fuck. You. Fucking you. How you'll, hah- say my name. How beautiful you'll sound."

Moving your hands along his ribs, feeling the buzz of Shino's bugs just under his skin. You smiled, touching the bunches as they swarmed near your fingers.

"Ugh, ew, I'm sorry," he said suddenly. You felt the bugs reluctantly start to leave Shino, moving toward your apartment's greenery.

"Hm, I didn't mind," you purred, pulling Shino's shirt up to reveal his creamy torso. Shifting down, you straddled his left as you began pressing gentle kisses to Shino's solid abdomen. You chuckled, "You can relax, sweetheart, you don't need to flex."

"I'm not flexing?" he said as if it were a question.

Cripes, you were tingling.

Tracing your tongue over the dips of his muscles, you groaned lowly, letting your hand travel to the massive tent in Shino's pants. 

Woah. There was no way his dick was as big as you thought it was. That just wasn't humanly possible.

With every obscene emotion guiding your way, you slowly undid the lacing of Shino's trousers. A steady pulse, and accompanying heat, came from Shino's entire body. His cheeks were still red as he watched you kiss his entire midsection before trailing your lips lower and lower...

"Pop your hips up for a second," you instructed lowly, taking both the waistband of his pants and underwear in your hands. He did and you grinned, tugging down his trousers to reveal his cock. You choked a bit, gasping, "Fucking stars... Hosannah..."

He was so much bigger than you had thought.

Shino's dick was huge. His sheer length was wildly impressive, and his girth was even more delicious. Blue and green hued veins traveled up his shaft, supplying blood to his agitated tip. It was bright red against his milky skin, screaming for your attention. Shino twitched, making his cock bounce against the blotch of dark brown, curly hair that rested above his dick like a halo. You took a sharp breath, mouth watering, positively creaming.

"Is it...?"

"Mouthwateringly massive? Yes," you cut him off quickly, getting back in the moment. Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, you came forward and licked the precum that dribbled from his tip. Shino took a shaky breath as you mewled, "And you taste fucking amazing too."

In circles, your tongue danced around Shino's tip, and you began stroking him slowly with your hand. He groaned as you closed your lips around him and started to suck. You giggled a little and the vibration made Shino put his head back, on the ground, moving side to side. Smiling, you began to bob your head along his cock, taking a bit more every time until he was hitting the back of your throat completely. Shino's hand came to your head, raking his fingers through your hair and collecting it behind your head.

With a deep, gravely voice, Shino groaned, "You're perfect. Perfect."

Looking up at him with lusty eyes, Shino took in the way his hand fisted your hair, bobbing along with you as you fucked him with your mouth. Strings of small curses and little whines left Shino's lips as you went on, his orgasm impending.

As his hips began to make the slightest thrusts upward, you popped your mouth off of him. Shino's face went from full-relaxation to betrayal, morphing to a frown. He whined, "I was close, why'd you stop?"

"Shhh, I told you I would take care of you," you murmured lowly. As you spoke, you straightened up and pulled your shirt over your head, casting it by the radiator. 

Looking back at Shino, his eyes were wider than his glasses, and his mouth agape. You laughed as he smiled at you sheepishly, trying to control his reaction some.

You grinned, "I thought you were mad at me."

Before he could reply, you reached around to your back and unfastened the clasp of your bra, letting it fall down your arms as you watched Shino's reaction carefully.

Immediately, he sat up, cupping your left tit while bringing his face to yours again. You smiled into the kiss, grinding down on Shino's thigh as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple. His kiss had improved dually, and you could relinquish some control to him. Some.

Tugging at the hem of his shirt, you broke the kiss for a second so that you could pull it over his head. Shino instantly started kissing you again, holding you with both hands on your sides as he leaned back down, pulling your clothed heat back over his cock. Your plush chest pressed against his, and Shino pulled you down further. His fingers trailed down your hips and across the backs of your thighs as Shino bunched your skirt up your your waist, leaving you with just your thin, cotton panties on.

Taking his dick in his hand, Shino pressed his tip over your sopping slit, groaning deeply as the feeling of your wetness against his cock. Still engaged in a lip-lock, Shino pressed you down on his cock, making the cotton sink into you a little. 

With a giggle, you broke the kiss and straightened your back out. Moving your panties to the side, you took his cock and moved it through your folds, making both of you sigh with pleasure.

Then, you positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance and slowly began to slide down. Shino gasped loudly, moaning even more loudly as you sank a little more than halfway. You hummed lowly, trying to take him all, but he was just so fucking big. As you started to bounce gently, Shino groaned and pulled your face down to his, gripping your hip with his other hand. Getting accustomed to your bounce, Shino started to thrust up, into you, making you take even more of his cock.

"You're so fucking big, Shino," you squeaked as his pace quickened.

Shino smiled up at you, his glasses fogged slightly and glinting with the sunset hues from your window. He began to thrust into you with more vigour at your comment, letting the moment guide him.

Your pussy throbbed as Shino took you, and you truly wondered if this was his first time. His cock massaged your walls so perfectly, hitting the perfect spot within you at every-other thrust. Hooking his hips up, he snapped into you at an impressive pace and you took it, biting back legitimate screams.

"Fuck, you're tight."

Pain quickly turned to pleasure as you got somewhat used to his blistering pace and size, allowing you to bounce with him again. Shino moaned lowly, letting his head fall back. He propped his head up up with his right hand as his other squeezed your hip with all his might. Like a prayer, his name fell from your lips as a bundle of nerves accumulated in the pit of your stomach.

Shino's hips began stuttering and slowing, and you took it as your chance to maintain your own quickened pace.

"I'm gonna cum, Petal," he hissed.

"Cum inside of me."

Almost immediately, you felt a squelch within you and could feel just a nice warmth spreading through you. Calling out your name repeatedly, Shino moaned and groaned, whipping his head left to right so handsomely. Lowering yourself down to the hilt, you pursed your lips into a smile and ground down in circles, clenching as tightly as you could. Shino whimpered below you, trying to pull you down for a kiss.

You let him and began bouncing slowly on his cock again, the sound of wetness now very loud. Shino moaned against your lips, making you go faster. He gripped your hips, hard enough to bruise, gasping, "Y/n... I'm so... sensitive. Please."

"Okay," you said lightly. Bringing yourself to his tip, you pulled away from his kiss, then pushed back down, taking him all in a quick movement.

Shino groaned, "Fuck. I love your pussy, fuck."

Holding you aloft again, Shino's hips met yours gently, stuttering every time. Gradually, he forgot about the sensitivity and started pummeling your pussy again.

As his tip kissed your cervix, you purred, scratching his chest, "My pussy is all yours, Shino."

"Mine, forever," he grunted, kissing the angle of your jaw as he pressed your chest against his. "I'm gonna- ah- make those noises come out of you, forever."

"You better, bug boy," you laughed. "Forever."

Shino snapped his hips into you with a renewed vigour as your promise of forever. He fucked into you heavily, moving his hands along the bare flesh of your ass and thighs.

Suddenly, with an arm wrapped around your waist and the other on the ground, Shino stood up. His cock buried itself even deeper in you as he stood, making you cry out his name with a shake to your voice. Shino kissed along your neck as he positioned his arms to bounce you slowly while he walked over to your bed, stepping out of his pants in the process.

Not letting a drop of cum fall from you, he laid you down on your back. Shino looked down at you with a wide smile before taking off his sunglasses for the first time. He cast them aside and neither of you cared to see where they landed as Shino began fucking you again, hitting a whole new angle.

He grasped you by the hips, guiding you to meet his as he repeatedly plunged into you with a force you had never heard of. It was heaven.

Snaking your hand between the two of you, you pulled at your clit, rubbing small circles. Backing your head into the pillow Shino rested you on, you murmured in a salacious lilt, "Shino."

"Again," he demanded, snapping into you with even more strength.

You quickened your pace on your clit, looking into his eyes as you repeated, "Shino. Shino, I love your- mm- cock. Stars, Shino, ugh-"

With his intensity and your toying with your clit, a grand knot formed in your stomach, weaving intricately, sweeping you away. You just kept repeating Shino's darling name, feeling the knot burst. 

Waves of pleasure rolled through your body, tensing every muscle periodically. Looking into his kind, sharp brown eyes, you let a gentle moan fall from your lips, still repeating his name, and Shino's hips stuttered in his time, slamming down into you deeply.

He slowed for a moment, feeling your walls fluttering around him, before he resumed his unrhythmic tempo. As you felt another burst of heat within you, Shino stopped, his eyelashes batting closed and groaned, "You're all mine, Y/n - taking all my cum like that, you must really love me."

"I love you so much," you said as Shino thrusted into you a few more times as you both hissed at the overstimulation. "I wanna take your cum forever, love bug. Only yours, all of yours."

"Oh, we're never leaving this bed, if you keep talking like that."

Looking at the man between your legs, you had never felt so seen, admired, and invigorated. You just hoped he felt the same as you kissed him sweetly, imagining how nice it would be if Shino were to be your husband.