#LIKE I can explain why I find them scary
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
lavendertarot · 8 months ago
Text
I hope shipwrecked64 gets more popular so that I can have a new shorthand for my lifelong debilitating phobia of mascot costumes
8 notes · View notes
shirogane-oushirou · 11 days ago
Text
no promises anymoooooreeeee i'll appear online when i appear online 😭 every time i say "ooh i think life is almost done being overwhelming!" it. becomes even more overwhelming in the dumbest ways. all i can manage rn when i'm not stressing myself into a shut-down state is staring at the wall while listening to youtube essays + mindlessly crocheting.
i might queue up ppls art and fics w/o commentary in the tags... i want other ppl to see what all of my cool friends have made, but i genuinely can't think right now with this monstrous brain fog. i'm really sorry, just. yeah. maybe i'll think of some way to make it up later!!! once the dust has settled!!!! but until then i wuv u and miss u. smiles.
Tumblr media
[venting in tags including familial manipulation and ableism. i. didn't mean to write all of that, thiss was originally going to be a main blog post but. aaaaaAAAAAA!!!!!
also no need for replies or anything, i'd turn them off for just the one post if i could kjsndkn, i just needed to get things out and go eep jsjndsfdn ok bye bye bye bye!!!!]
#goddd my family finds it sooooooo funny that i can't do basic tasks! it's soooo funny that i can't even think of a horror movie to watch#on halloween bc i genuinely can't remember a single one right now. it's soooo funny that i can't take cardboard boxes or#old furniture out of my room without help bc i've physically and mentally and emotionally burnt out for Months.#and me not being able to move shit out after two (2) days makes me a hoarder somehow. and ofc hoarding is a moral failing#and my mom has to give me a stern talking-to about hoarding things... that were. again. in my room for 2 days....#[tbc it isnt a moral failing no matter the reason. life is hard and things happen and it can be hard to get rid of things for Reasons.]#nevermind them making constant snide remarks about me using ugly 'mismatched' desk / storage furniture. bc it was free / cheap? no income??#AND!!!!! i have a couple of new diagnoses. which doesn't change much day to day but it does make my family making fun of me#even more dumbfounding. like. this explains a lot of really scary unexplained symptoms that constantly leave me#housebound for weeks but uhhh haha hehe hoho??? so silly so funny that i'm barely conscious for multiple weeks???#and you can see that i'm getting worse but that makes it funnier??? hmm!!!#also nevermind that i've told them the exact reason why i've been like this (read: them) but that ALSO makes it funnier somehow.#but i also can't say shit bc they're doing something ~nice~ for me (out of convenience + after almost a decade of 'don't get comfortable'#and 'don't decorate this room bc it isn't yours' and 'you need to be ready to move out by x date'#only for the date to arrive and them to pull the 'i never said that. and if i did say it i didn't mean it like that.#and if i did mean it like that i don't anymore.' card. + any big renovations are things they wanted anyway. hmmmm!!#and how i have to do all of the phys labor alone bc if i ask for help i get made fun of!!! and yelled at that i'm doing things Wrong#(hint: i'm following instructions to the letter but. my family knows better than those silly things!! ^^ ))#jfc i sure did rant. uh. yeah. things. are really weird and uncomfy and i feel thankful that i finally can have my own things on display#outside of closets and bins again after a decade?? but i'm also waiting for the other shoe to drop / them to tell me i owe them in#some way??? bc that's how it works. 'i'm doing a nice thing you didn't even ask me for so now you have to do whatever i tell you to.'#meanwhile i can't even maladaptive daydream my way through it bc my brain is soup right now. can't remember basic things abt#my interests bc i've been on negative battery / spoons for a couple of months straight and it's only getting worse.#OKAY TLDR i'm not in a state to do anything until everything irl gets settled. and i'm trying So Hard to get it all over with but there's#only so much i can do in a day before i completely shut down. i didn't even get into the insurance stuff i've been fighting too ughhhh.#so if i show up on here in short spurts -- hi! bye! hi!! i wuv and care u!!! hope youre well mwah mwah!!!!!!! i'll post what i can and then#disappear when i need to recharge. it is what it is. i need to try to sleep now... uh if this post disappears when i wake up.... yeah......#📌 [ my posts. ]#💭 [ my thoughts. ]#vent -
6 notes · View notes
sucktacular · 10 months ago
Text
trying to learn how to make Left4Dead mods, specifically a survivor model that I already have a model someone else made, BUT MY LORD im WAILING folks
not only am i back in the hell trenches that is a 3D modelling program (spits thinking about school) but also I cant find any good tutorials for Blender and, Kitten, I'll be honest. Daddy's about to kill himself (joke joke but also man this is the THIRD TIME trying again. first two times ended the exact same and i expect this one to end the same. stay tuned!!!)
ps if anyone has rigged up and put survivor models in l4d2 before I will literally draw you whatever you want, full color and shading, if you can put this fucking model for me on steam workshop. (not joking in the slightest, i have the model file I just need you to do the complex shit ; - ; it doesnt even have to be THAT GOOD i just want this fucker in my game)
3 notes · View notes
milo-is-rambling · 1 year ago
Text
Me when I want to be wanted more than anything else
#I think I’d be more normal if I had more friends but every friend I lose makes me isolate more and more and now it’s like I can only trust#people I’ve interacted with for years already#and then every time I try to make friends I either don’t respond (anxiety. not feeling a vibe. whatever) or they stop responding when I#actually like them (someone who talked to me for like four days in an row and then randomly blocked me no explanation)#I think if I made more friends or even talked to more people I’d understand how to do it successfully but I don’t have enough experience and#no one wants to be friends with me (and it’s scary when they do!!!) wahhhhhhhhhh#I need to move somewhere new and talk to strangers I’m good at that#I made more friends a a concert age 14 than I have from me the ages of 16-19 and i think that’s ridiculous#how do I explain to everyone ever that nothing bad happened to me I’m just mentally ill bc my hormones are fucked and it’s let me to spiral#and ruin my own life and then slowly painfully build my life back up and then crush it all again over and over again for years and years#to the point where I’m afraid I’ll never amount to anything so the idea of ever truly having people who find any value for me in their lives#feels like it’s fake and then when I do finally trust people I end up loving too hard and fucking it up and then I isolate for even longer#it’s takes me twice as long to find a new friend and trust them again and then it happens all over again#it feels like I’m destined to be alone bc I can’t tell the difference between platonic shit and flirting so I have a wall between me and#everyone else bc I’m afraid to like someone too much and confuse my brain bc I don’t ever want to like someone who doesn’t like me even if#it’s as friends bc I’ve put more effort in than other ppl always but it’s bc I put too much effort in and expect too much and no one else#is as weirdly obsessive and clingy and dedicated as I am bc I’m not normal and that’s why no one likes me bc I try too hard or not at all#and it makes everyone in my life family friends crushes whatever hate me bc I’m all or nothing forever I can’t just be normal#I think a lifetime of living with my mother has permanently damaged the way I see myself#who are all these normal ideal people in my brain why did my mother put them there and why will I always be worse than a hypothetical person#designed to shame me for struggling which gets louder the more I struggle#spirals cycles etc etc etc#ugh. I want my brain to turn off I’m gonna go take a dab and maybe delete this later
2 notes · View notes
seakraitmessages · 3 months ago
Text
ramble in the tags 🙈
#seakraitm rambles#spoilers#speculations#long post#I don’t want to mention or tag the series BUT I’M SO EXCITED!!!#these are just my self-indulgent thoughts 😔#but putting the spoilers tag just in case#I read the article that came out last week or so and GREAT GREAT GREAT#They’re going to fight a monster that’s after Viktor in particular?#Exciting! I wonder why him specifically?#and Ben is conspicuously absent 👀#ok so a bit of a rant:#I hope the monster isn’t designed something like the roach samurais#this is my personal opinion but I find humanish monsters really boring 😭 like zombies or vampires. it’s the pokemon fan in me 😔#they *are* scary! good horror stories! I just don’t find them very interesting…#I love creature designs so much! They’re very cool esp when they evoke a feeling!#the monster from the ritual is amazing I love its unsettling design so much!#and the tatarigami in princess mononoke god it’s such a design that does so much!#body horror warning: wrath manifesting like boiling blood worms that completely envelopes the gods. Parasitized by their own rage.#which anger does feel like. like yeah that is an ANGRY design#love monster designs wish I could make one myself#I have more thoughts on this but anyways! rant over.#but cgi nonhuman monsters aren’t really seen a lot so it might just be some guy lol#(I hope I’m wrong)#god the season can go so many diff ways depending on how they’ll explain the backstories#I’ve been cooking up an au story these past years ASKSKDSKKS I hope it still fits after the season drops!#if not well there are other series
0 notes
oflgtfol · 5 months ago
Text
i do have to say though he is so fun to talk to especially bc we are both the same brand of nerds ie. sci-fi movies and like astronomy/science in general. he’s an astronomer more in the earth/planetary sciences kind of way whereas i have a much heavier background in the physics side of astro and so like i get to talk to him about science, have him ACTUALLY LISTEN AND UNDERSTAND AND BE INTERESTED, while also still not having a 1:1 similarity in our knowledge. like he never took optics and he doesnt wear glasses so i was explaining to him how im legally blind without mine and like how short my near point is as opposed to his etc. like nobody else in my life is interested in this shit except for the people who i already took classes with and therefore already knows about it
0 notes
pseudowho · 18 days ago
Text
"Yuuji-- if you don't mind, can I ask you something?"
Yuuji looked up from his phone, feeling so grown up to be in the Jujutsu High staffroom with Kento. He raised his eyebrows, the scar across his lip tugging up.
"Uh...yeah, sure. Go crazy."
"What is scary dog privilege, exactly?"
"Scary dog privilege? Huh, well...let's see, uhm...so it's like..."
Yuuji explained, all peaches and wide eyes and animated hands. Kento nodded occasionally, listening intently. His mind, naturally, strayed to you; you were what this was all about, after all.
As with any thought of you (you being his blossoming latent obsession), Kento's stomach flipped, his grip tightening fractionally around his coffee.
Kento remembered.
He remembered when he dropped you home. You checked over your shoulder, again, and again, and again, before you unlocked your door and hurried inside.
He remembered how he had once walked up behind you without much thought, and you spun with panic in your eyes. Kento recalled how quickly you had relaxed, to see it was him, and how high his hope climbed as a result.
He remembered how you had spilled the contents of your bag. You snatched your pepper spray up in the hope that his keen eyes had missed it.
He remembered how you headed to the subway after a staff night out. Your keys had been curiously gripped between your fingers, a weapon that wasn't a weapon.
He remembered, how just the day before, he and you had walked together through central Tokyo to get lunch. You had sat on a park bench together, and Kento had been so overwhelmed by the need to hold it together, Kento, keep it together, that he barely registered the relief written on your skin.
You had eaten in comfortable silence, then leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way to the bins.
"Thanks for the scary dog privilege, Kento. It's the first time in a long time that I've relaxed in public."
Kento's eyes had drifted closed for just a few moments too long, with the warmth of your lips on his skin, and he stuttered, fumbling, unlike himself.
"Ah...scary...dog privilege?" He asked, quiet. But you were already gone; throwing your crumbs to the ducks.
Yuuji's voice snapped Kento out of memory, and back to the staffroom.
"Dunno if that makes sense, Nanamin?"
A molten pit of spite and rage ignited in Kento once he put two and two together. Scary dog privilege. He gave you scary dog privilege. Why was walking the streets in safety a privilege? Shit. Kento kept his voice level, patting Yuuji on the shoulder as he left, his steaming coffee abandoned.
"Thank you, Yuuji. Stay safe out there this afternoon, and call me when you're finished, please."
If Kento hadn't already felt dirty enough with the knowledge that he pleasured himself to thoughts of you every night, he felt worse, now. He stalked through the corridors of Jujutsu High, calling Ijichi, calling Shoko, determined to find you.
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Once you noticed how one man's gaze lingered on you, you noticed them all. To you, almost all seemed to do it, and to every woman, be they 18 or 80, tall or short or curvy or lithe or gay or straight or anywhere in between. Then, when you began to notice the gazes on 16 year olds, or 12 year olds, or--
You had nauseated by the time you turned the corner to grab lunch. Simultaneously built up and dragged down and accused, you were a madonna and a whore and a bitch. You wondered, vaguely, how deeply, how incurably the disease ran, as you entered the bustling café. You didn't want to think about it. You'd just grab food, and go, and--
"Ah. Good afternoon."
You blinked, to see Kento before you in the queue, and felt a warm burst of joy from your tummy to your toes.
"Kento, I'm...happier than you know, to see you, actually."
A satisfied hum. "I had a feeling you might be. Now...about something you said yesterday...."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
Nanami Kento didn't immediately strike one as a scary dog. He was built, yes, but his suits hid it well, and he was only a little taller than average, and really quite mild, but--
-- oh.
The way his glares could frost a soul. The way other men bounced off him, a stone wall, when a shoulder 'accidentally' hit his. The way his eyes found wayward gazes like a sniper, with the dulcet loading of a bullet behind his sneer. The silent commanding respect. The dares that other men would not dare.
It was no wonder, then, how you and Kento, became you and Shoko and Kento, became you and Shoko and Maki and Nobara and Kento. While individually able to fight your own fights, feeling Kento's scary dog privilege melt threats with acid, was a burden blissfully relieved.
With Kento's protective Midas' touch, your daily lunches turned to gold, unsullied and unmolested. Still...he was there for the whole group.
So why, then, in such a large group, did you look up to find his gaze on you, and only you? How could his eyes caress without staring? It was sorcery, surely.
Kento sequestered you one day, throwing his crumbs to the ducks alongside yours, as the others chatted on the benches behind you. You looked up, shooting him a sideways smile, and wondering how you could ever be good enough for him. He spoke quietly.
"I always believed a dog to have just one owner."
You felt your stomach twist with insinuation. You laid the thread.
"...oh?"
"And while I'm happy to offer my privileges to the benefit of a group, I...would like to be in the position to make such a privilege exclusive."
You swallowed hard, looking sideways again with hope against hope against hope against--
"Are you...saying you'd like to be my scary dog?"
"Very, very much so."
4K notes · View notes
piper-2244 · 3 days ago
Text
the limit does not exist!
how spencer helps college!reader understand a little calculus and therefore understand how he loves her.
MDNI | smut word count: 1931 warnings & tags & stuff: fem reader, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), lil bit of overstim hehe, pure unbridled affection, LOVE, FLUFF, hugging, reader cries, this was in fact meant to be written for spence's birthday... sorry about that school is kicking my butt lets just pretend it's october! author's note: this one is for my folks who HATE their calculus class and want spencer reid to give them head instead <3 maybe this can help you romanticize it a bit. i think this is classified as self indulgent…like REALLY self indulgent… hah... anyway i hope you enjoy! let me know your thoughts if u have any, i loveeeee you!! have a great day my hands are shaking posting this smut is so scary!!!!!
You sat in bed, staring down your notebook, eyes narrowed. Limits stared back at you. You were just about at your own limit, if you were being honest. 
Your brain, however sharp and witty it may be, is absolutely not one designed for calculus. A literary analysis essay? Done in half an hour. In depth scientific research project? Easiest months of your life. But there’s something about finding the instantaneous rate of change of a curve at one point in time by finding the slope of a tangent line that hasn't clicked yet. 
A slew of other papers- notes, practice worksheets printed from obscure websites, and formulas- surround you, a sea of unfinished thoughts from the past month of the semester.
You bite on the end of your pen, the little hope you had for a good grade in this class slipping further and further away with each passing moment, like the last ember dying in the remains of a fire.
What you really wanted to be doing was celebrating Spencer’s birthday with him right now. A chocolate cake lay on the kitchen counter and pasta simmers on the stove, but you and your boyfriend had agreed to do a solid hour of work before the celebrations ensued.
You were never particularly strong willed when it came to following through on such agreements.
“Teach me calculus,” you say, a very impressive three minutes later, flopping down on the couch. Your head makes its way to its forever resting spot, Spencer’s lap. He raises his eyebrows slightly, thumb reaching out to trace over the slope of your nose. His eyes flit between you and the file to the side of him. 
“I thought we agreed on an hour.”
“Yeah. But it wouldn’t be a very productive hour if I didn’t know how to do what I have to do. And I missed you.” 
He sighs quietly, closing the file next to him. 
“What do you not understand?” You smile at that, loving how quickly you won.
“Related rates. Like, conceptually.” 
Spencer hums in response.
“It’s October. You’re not even supposed to know related rates yet.”
“Fine. Then let's open presents,” you respond, smiley. His eyebrows get impossibly higher, hand stroking your cheek delicately.
“No. I want our night to be a little more stress free when we celebrate, okay? How about you think about that lovely cake you made for me. What if I decided to squash it so that the diameter would get bigger, going from…let’s say, 20 centimeters to 26 centimeters in 3 seconds, and the height would get smal-”
“That wouldn't be nice. It took me like four hours,” you interrupt, grumbling. He cracks a smile.
“For the sake of the example, let's say I was an awful boyfriend and really wanted to ruin all the hard work you put in for me.”
You roll your eyes.
“Hey,” he says, hand moving down to touch your jaw softly. “Don’t do that. Don’t be difficult. I’m helping you.”
“Sorry. I guess I need you to zoom out a little. I don’t really get why I’m learning this as a whole.” Spencer’s eyes pore into yours, staring down at you adoringly for a small moment as he comes up with an answer.
“Calculus helps us begin to explain the unexplainable by harnessing what we can,” Spencer says simply. “Einstein once said that, ‘Pure mathematics is, in its way, the poetry of logical ideas,’ which makes it simple in practice, but I actually like to think about it as the opposite philosophically. Trying to find logic in the more poetic ideas.”
You cuddle deeper in his lap.
“Think he would agree with that?” you ask. “I do answer to Einstein before you, unfortunately.” Spencer bends down to kiss your hair.
“I think so. He also had a really nice quote where he remarked that, ‘Gravitation cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.’ He said, ‘How on earth can you explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? Put your hand on a stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with that special girl for an hour and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.’”
Spencer takes a deep breath.
“Math doesn’t explain how I love you. It can’t. But I love the fact that it tries to. It kinda makes you wanna learn it as best you can.”
You process that for a long second and nod. He keeps talking.
… 
Presents get opened, and cake gets eaten before dinner. Of course.
You’re now in bed, on top of the covers, forcing Spencer to give you a fashion show of the new sweater vest and tie you got him. He turns to you after putting it on, and you beam. 
“I really like it. You look great. Do you like it?” you ask. He nods, smiling back at you.
“I’m gonna wear it to work tomorrow.” 
You beckon for Spencer to come closer, sitting up in bed. Your hands go out to the tie, tugging at the knot softly. He stares down at you until eventually interrupting your motions with a slow kiss, hands cupping your face.
“You’re so pretty,” he mutters.
He pulls away and finishes what you started, folding the tie neatly and setting it in the drawer. Then comes the vest, and soon enough, he’s just in his boxers.
“You’re the pretty one,” you say quietly. “Come to bed.” He crawls on next to you, tugging you into his arms. “Happy birthday, Spence. I love you.” He dips his forehead to your shoulder.
“I love you.”
Before you know it, he’s shifted on top of you, moving down. Fast. You blink, hard, trying to rid your head of the hazy endorphins as you register what he’s doing.
“What? No, I was gonna do that. It’s your birthday. You don’t have to,” you protest.
“But I really, really want to, darling girl,” he murmurs back, kissing your knee and softly pushing it to the side.
You fluster and Spencer just looks at you, fingers tracing shapes on your waist, waiting for you to be ready. 
“Well. Um. Okay. If you insist. I can’t really deny the birthday boy.” Your voice is small, and a little giddy smile grows on your face. Of course Spencer Reid would want to give you head on his birthday. 
He smiles a little against the bare skin of your hip where your top meets your shorts. Then he meets your eyes. 
“You know you can, though, right?” he asks, voice a little more serious. You reach out to touch his hair softly. 
“Yeah. I know.”
Fingers hook your shorts, gently pulling them down. He presses a kiss to your thigh, and then he suddenly looks down at it. 
“Soft,” he murmurs, like he’s making a mental note. He presses another, and another, incrementally going closer and closer to your soaked through underwear. His eyebrows scrunch when he sees the wet spot. “All this from a few kisses?” 
You blush, unable to respond. 
Spencer’s fingers hook a centimeter of your underwear. “These?” he checks.
“Yes, please,” you manage. He tugs them down, silently noticing the slickness of your sex, and exhales shakily.
“How many times on average does it take for a guy to call you pretty on a given day before you get annoyed?” he murmurs, soft smile playing on his face. You smile too, head cloudy from his words, but it immediately drops when his lips press directly against your pulsing clit, kissing it softly.
“Fuck,” you say (Spencer would argue moan) softly (loudly). You let out a content sigh, and he moves to suckle it, actions becoming less and less delicate. 
It’s not harsh, but incessant. Spencer knows what you can take. He knows exactly what you can take. You’re both quiet for a bit, save for your breathy moans. 
“Spencer,” you say softly, ripping you both out of your individually hazy and dirty and distracted minds. “You’re too far away.” He looks up to you, face parallel to your aching core, hair beautifully messy and mouth glistening.
After a second, he grabs your hips, gently pushing you up against the pillows so you’re propped up at a better angle. He then shifts his body up wordlessly so he’s more above you, dipping his head down to give you a soft kiss. You taste yourself, tongue darting out to lick your lips.
His hand takes over where his mouth was, sliding in between your folds with a practiced ease. Spencer looks down at you, eyes wide and flitting between yours, searching for a reaction.
You reach out and wrap your arms around him, holding him close. “Holy shit, I love you,” you murmur.
His fingers lightly graze your clit again before one slides into you. “Angel,” he breathes out, so quietly. “I love you too. This okay? Are you okay?”
You nod feverishly and lift your hips to meet his hand, always in a perpetual state of wanting more, to be closer. Your bodies are melded so close together, barely giving him room to push his hand into you. He doesn’t even bother to ask you to use your words or keep your hips down, like he might on a regular night.
He pulls his head back to watch as he pushes another finger into you, stretching you just a little. “There we go. You always feel like heaven around me.”
Your eyes flit up to his face as he says those words, now having a little more room to observe him. You focus on the slope of his nose and curve of his mouth. 
“You’re so perfect,” you say quietly, adoringly, before you even realize it was true.
You blink at that thought. Spencer Reid is perfect, despite whatever universal odds deeming that impossible.
Those graphs, those formulas, now laying discarded & crumpled on the ground. They click, a little bit. You understand why Albert Einstein wanted to spend his life developing theories of relativity.
This is how Spencer sees you? What he was talking about earlier?
This is how he sees you?
The thought is almost too much.
Spencer sees your face, and not knowing what's going on in your head, slides down his free hand from your cheek to your carotid, feeling your racing pulse. “Take a deep breath for me, okay? You're about to come, huh?”
You inhale and are met with peace. Then your orgasm hits you like a wave. You clench hard around his fingers, and he just watches it happen, fascinated. “Baby,” he coos softly at you.
It wasn’t just your sensitivity he’s currently maximizing on or the little kisses he dips down to leave on your neck that sealed the deal, but the very thought that you could be loved in a way that is so perfectly impossible.
You exhale breathily as Spencer pushes you through the last trails of your climax, fingers not caring one bit that you just had your world tilted on its axis. 
“Spencer. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you say eventually, overstimulated.
“You’re okay. Did so good.” he murmurs, fingers slipping out of you. 
His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear you didn't even realize was dripping down.
“Don’t cry, you always cry. It’s my birthday. Don’t cry on my birthday,” he whispers soothingly, affection lacing his voice.
“I’m not.” 
Another one falls. 
You reach and press out that perpetual little slope between his eyebrows with your thumb, gentle, like you might break him. “I’m not crying.”
Spencer lets you lie.
1K notes · View notes
celuere · 2 months ago
Text
Even MORE HCs of Arlecchino taking care of her pregnant wife.
pairing: Arlecchino x fem!reader
context: nothing, domestic Arlecchino is simply consuming me atm.
cw: pregnancy, SOFT Arle, FLUFF, mentions of throwing up
Somebody sedate me I love her so much.
Starting off with how you would quite literally never wake up on your own when pregnancy nausea forced you out of bed again. Arlecchino would literally be right next to you and gently scoop your hair out of your face the moment you bent over the toilet to empty your stomach. Gently stroking your back, whispering soft words of encouragement, telling you it will be over soon. She’d carefully help you back up and lets you rinse your mouth of the awful taste only to carry you back in her own arms.
If you happen to suffer from Hyperemesis gravidarum (which quite literally means that your nausea lasts for the entirety of the pregnancy and not just the first weeks), she either sits down next to you on the bathroom floors offering her lap as bed or she‘ll have a bucket placed next to your bed. But even then she would always be awake when your stomach is acting up.
I don’t think she‘s the type to talk to your belly but she’d definitely lean against it or gently rest her head on top, watching the soft kicks coming from the inside and tracing the spots with her fingers without uttering a single words. She is simply too mesmerized.
DO NOT! and I repeat DO NOT complain about your weight gain EVER to her, that’s Nr. 1 thing she doesn’t play around with. She literally couldn’t give less fucks about how much you gain or how else your body is changing throughout pregnancy. It almost feels insulting to her when you have the nerve to make a comment about stretch marks and she literally CANNOT contain herself and starts to explicitly explain to you why you’re getting stretchmarks, why they’re so visible and why she finds them so attractive. There isn’t a more beautiful and perfect sight to her than her pregnant wife.
Massages you wherever and whenever you need one, no questions asked. She absolutely loves helping you lay back and relax especially after a difficult day of growing another living being inside your body. She‘d run you a bath, even help you shampoo your hair and the rest of you if you’re too exhausted to do it on your own. She is completely and utterly at your disposal.
Will literal buy everything on the market for her babygirl while setting up the nursery because only in hell will she let her baby miss out on anything like she did when growing up in the House of the Hearth. Even tho you start questioning her when she one day comes home with a heat lamp for the changing table „in case she gets cold“ (Sandrone still owed her a favor)
Literally don’t try to strike up a conversation with her ass when you two happen to be in the same room as her. Her only answer will be few curt nods, an approving but absentminded „mhm“, and if she is feelings generous even a „Interesting… carry on…“, all the while her eyes are plastered on you. Talking and laughing occasionally as you get winded up in yet another discussion, your hand caressing the more than visible baby belly, wedding ring glistening in the chandelier light. Plus points of you‘re wearing something that highlights your body. It’s so over for Arle.
But so help her if one day the first contractions set in. You are immediately surrounded by your husband and a few midwives, checking up on you like you just fell down a bunch of stairs until you reassured everyone that you‘re fine and not went into labor. Still, Arlecchino refuses to leave your side for the rest of day and even earns herself a little scolding from you when she tried to talk you into bed again. You know how much you can handle better than her after all, right?
(A/N: I can’t write labor scenarios for the love of it so I just skip this part-) And the moment she finally gets to hold her love in her arms? It’s scary. Usually the Knave is never scared of anything. But when you hold out the little bundle of joy to her with an exhausted smile and tears staining your sweaty face- something inside of her is doubting herself. What if she accidentally hurts her? What if- lord and behold- she lets her fall down on accident? She is so tiny and fragile, it takes a few encouraging words from your side before Arle finally musters up the courage and very slowly and carefully lifts her babygirl up into her own arms. And she might never want to put her down ever again. She fits so perfectly into her embrace and it also feels like it to her. Like a missing puzzle piece being put into a place as she can’t help but gently stroke her finger over her daughters cheek, completely mesmerized by how soft she feels against her touch.
She starts thanking you. One time. Two times three times. Four times. Over and over as she showers your face in kisses until sleep eventually drags you into its depths. Goodness how could someone as cursed as her be blessed with this wonderful gift? What did she do to deserve this precious little girl in her arms- and her wonderful wife? It has to be some kind of apology from Celestia themself. It has to be.
So help this woman when her daughter opens her eyes for the first time and she stares into a direct replica of her own. Only with your eye color. Her breath catches in her throat for a short moment as she looks down at the beautiful color grazing the x‘s in her eyes, the little white hairs on the top of her head- but yet she still looks so similar to you. So similar it makes her heart ache. How is it possible for something this small to reduce the fourth Fatui Harbinger to nothing but a besotted idiot? This bundle in her arms- this life in her cursed arms. A testimony of how deep your love for each other actually went- it only belongs to the two of you. And she‘ll do anything in her power to protect it. No matter the cost.
SOOOOOOOOB I LOVE PAPA ARLE SM I CANT I ALENAIBEBE EEUGEUGHEUHH I WANNA CRY
657 notes · View notes
undreaming-fanfiction · 9 months ago
Text
Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?
Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.
The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"
So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!
But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.
And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.
The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.
Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.
Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.
"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.
"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."
Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."
"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."
Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."
Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."
"My eyes change color."
"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."
Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."
"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"
"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."
"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."
Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."
Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."
And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"
Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.
Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"
Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."
"Not the point!"
"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."
Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."
He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"
Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."
Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"
"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."
Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"
Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."
"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"
Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."
"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."
And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.
(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)
(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)
1K notes · View notes
shares-a-vest · 4 months ago
Text
I feel like over the past week and a half, I have been any given one of the trio in this ficlet. So yeah, I'm projecting onto my blorbos. Enjoy!
Eddie can sense Steve isn't in bed when he blinks awake. It's still dark out and the apartment is freezing. Well, Eddie is freezing without the furnace-like warmth of his boyfriend curled into his side.
He looks over at Steve's nightstand to find that the alarm clock only reads a little past 3am and that's when he begins to panic. It's nowhere near time for Steve's early morning run, nor is it a reasonable enough hour that he might be pottering about in the living room.
So, Eddie hops out of bed and is immediately hit by the winter chill of the two-bed apartment he and Steve share with Robin.
He shivers as he walks into the hallway, where he finds the apartment still shrouded in an icy darkness. He chances a peek into Robin's room, where he finds his housemate sound asleep and snoring, lying in the middle of her bed and certainly without the company of her best friend.
Steve has nightmares – hell, the three of them do. But Steve usually ends up with Robin if the situation arises.
Eddie continues on, now tucking his hands under his armpits, hugging himself as he dips his chin into the loosened neck-hole of his oversized sweater – a maroon-coloured former Harrington Classic.
He tiptoes along so as not to disturb Robin, almost sliding his socks along the floorboards as he makes his way into the living area, his path illuminated by outside street lamps.
Eddie tsks under his breath when he comes across Steve, curled in on himself as he lays soundly asleep on the couch, his nail bat close by on the floor.
Steve hums, or more shivers – visibly freezing as he sleeps in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts whose material Eddie suspects might evaporate the next time they find themselves in one of the building's shoddy washing machines.
He sits by his boyfriend's side and places a hand on Steve's shoulder, desperate to stir him enough to coax him back to bed, but not spook him entirely.
"Sweetheart," he stage-whispers as Steve grumbles.
"Hmm?" he murmurs before startling awake. His eyes snap to attention and he looks up at Eddie as he speaks full volume, his voice groggy, "I heard a noise."
Steve rubs at his arms, the iciness of their surroundings hitting him now that he is (at least, partially) conscious.
"Love, I need you to come back to bed, it's freezing out here."
"But, I heard a noise," Steve whines, sitting up now.
Eddie can't help it, he presses his palm to Steve's cheek and his heart skips a beat at just how cold he feels.
"Shit," he curses and loops his arm around Steve's middle, commanding, "Bed, now."
Steve grumbles, but complies, lazily reaching for his bat before they both stand up as one. Eddie takes his boyfriend's weight, the bat dragging along by Steve's side as they shuffle back towards their bedroom.
Steve shivers and continues mumbling something about the noise he heard. And Eddie can't tell if it was an actual noise or something heard in that strange (and admittedly, scary) space between wake and sleep. Whatever it is, Steve seems both frightened and stubborn all in one.
He shudders again and Eddie can't bring himself to bite his tongue any longer.
"Baby, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
Typically, he'd be all over Steve in such a state of undress – with all that hair and muscle. But right now, his arms are peppered with goosebumps and his eyes are starting to droop with every step.
"Got hot before," Steve explains, weary.
They pass by Robin's bedroom and the door opens fully, revealing a duvet-covered mass and in the darkness, Eddie can still spot a frown.
"What's going on?" she asks, voice like gravel but nonetheless worried.
"I heard a noise, Robbie."
His tone pains Eddie from his heart down to his gut and the same must happen to Robin too because, in an instant, she retreats to her room in haste.
Eddie continues on to his and Steve's bedroom and gently lowers Steve onto the edge of the bed before he takes the baseball bat. He makes a show of rolling it back under the bed but Steve isn't watching. Instead, his boyfriend is looking over at Robin, who has reappeared, cradling a handful of items and hunching her shoulders in a feeble attempt to keep some kind of hold on her blanket.
Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and crosses her as he heads off in search of a sweater. He rifles through a drawer and listens on to what sounds like Robin crowding the nightstand with her stuff before she swishes about the excess bedding. Steve whines and Eddie turns back to find Robin with her arm around her best friend.
"Alright," Eddie says, holding out a navy sweater, "Time for bed."
He gestures for Steve to lift his arms up and he complies. It takes a moment, but Eddie wrestles the near-dead weight of Steve into a cozy sweater before he lifts his legs to help him into bed.
"In the middle, Dingus," Robin instructs, "And don't snore."
"How about, you don't fart," Steve quips, shuffling into the middle nonetheless.
There's a bitchy lilt to Steve's voice that has Eddie relaxing a little. He rolls his eyes, thinking the pair burrowing under the covers will probably bicker on. But honestly, he'd prefer that to the balled-up, half-naked, scared Steve he found out in the living room.
Eddie exchanges a glance with Robin before she reaches for the nightstand and grabs a hot water bottle, her Walkman, a notepad and a pencil.
"What the hell are you doing?" Eddie grouses, rounding his side of the bed – thankful to slip back under the covers.
But he pauses mid-way, distracted now as Robin juggles with her wears.
"I need my things," she grumbles as she places the hot water bottle on her stomach and dry sobs, "Oh no, it has gone cold!"
Steve rolls his eyes in Robin's direction, more sleepily than annoyed.
"Eddie, go get some hot water," he mumble-commands, turning to snuggle in close to his best friend.
"What?"
"Eddie..."
"Fine," he reaches for the hot water bottle and snatches it from Robin's grasp.
Eddie thinks he must love his boyfriend a lot, considering how he freezes his ass off to a doubled-over, teeth-chattering level in the several minutes it takes for their stupid kettle to warm up. And by the time he gets back to the bedroom, Robin is quietly snoring with Steve tucked into her side, the two of them forming a single hair-filled mass of platonic soulmatedness.
Eddie tucks the hot water bottle under Robin's covers as best he can and resumes his spot, giggling at the thought of the inevitable drool that is going to make its way into Steve's hair at some point. He snuggles in behind Steve, forming a cocoon around him and his boyfriend snuffles at the touch.
"It's okay, Stevie," he says, kissing him just behind the ear, "Get some sleep. Don't think about the noise. You're safe here with me and Rob."
"What about my ba –"
"It's back under the bed, sweetheart," Steve hums at that, relaxing against him, "We'll figure out the noise in the morning, I promise."
"'Kay," Steve breathes more than speaks as sleep overcomes him, "Love... you."
"I won't let anything hurt you, Steve," Eddie says, hugging him tight.
828 notes · View notes
steveseddie · 1 month ago
Text
for protection
steddie | rating: t | wc: 5,2k | cw: none | tags: steve pov, scary movies, accidental hand holding, turned into non-accidental hand holding, soft boys, getting together, fruity four friendship
for week four of @softsteddieseptember using the prompt “protection”
click here to read on ao3
Tumblr media
Steve never liked horror movies. 
He didn’t like them before the Upside Down and he definitely doesn’t like them now when he spends most of his time worrying and waiting for the next supernatural shoe to drop. There’s no reason why he would want to spend two hours peeking through his fingers at a screen and anticipating the next jumpscare on top of that.
Occasionally, he will let Robin or one of the kids— or lately, Eddie too— convince him to watch one. They might have gone through the same horrors as Steve, but somehow they’re not bothered by these movies at all. At least when Robin is around she’ll let Steve hold her hand, which has gotten him through worse things than movies about aliens or monsters or psychopathic killers. 
That is the only reason Steve agreed to go to the movies tonight.
“Who are you kidding, dingus?” Robin snorts when Steve tells her as much. She’s sitting in the passenger seat of the Beemer as Steve drives them both to The Hawk to meet Eddie and Nancy. “You agreed to come because you can’t say no to Eddie and his big Bambi eyes!” 
Steve sputters indignantly. “What? Yes, I can!”
Robin rolls her eyes. “Steve, I told you I wanted to watch this movie weeks ago and you kept brushing me off. You only said yes when Eddie pouted and complained that no one wanted to watch it with him!” 
Steve waves her off. “I would’ve said yes to you eventually.” 
“But you didn’t,” Robin says, poking Steve’s side and making him yelp. “You said yes to your boy—”
“He’s not my boy,” Steve huffs, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck at the words. 
Robin ignores him and keeps teasing him. “You said yes to him because you love him—” she says, dragging the word love and making obnoxious kissing noises. 
“Christ, what are you? Five?” Steve protests, pinching the bridge of his nose while he waits for the red light to turn green. Robin keeps making those kissing noises, making Steve groan. “Ugh, shut up. Or I’ll shove you out of the car and you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” 
Robin huffs. “If you do that you’ll have to explain to Nancy that you abandoned me in the middle of nowhere,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. If she keeps up acting like a child they’re not going to let her in to see this movie. 
“We’re like, four blocks away,” Steve says, pointing ahead where the sign for The Hawk comes into view. “That’s hardly the middle of nowhere.” 
But they both know he won’t do it anyway— not even a horror movie sounds scarier than having to tell Nancy he left Robin to walk the streets of Hawkins alone at night. 
So he finds them a parking spot instead, a few blocks away from The Hawk so by the time they walk up to the entrance it’s exactly 7 pm. They agreed to meet up at that time, meaning Nancy is already there—and probably has been for a while—and Eddie is nowhere to be seen. 
As soon as she sees Nancy, Robin leaves Steve’s side and runs up to her, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders to hug her. Nancy stumbles back a few steps, taken by surprise but then she smiles and wraps her arms around Robin’s waist, returning the hug. 
As Steve approaches, he hears Robin rambling with her arms still around her. “Hey, Nancy! I hope you haven’t been waiting for long, I told Steve we were gonna be late but he still took forever to fix his hair. And I was like ‘dingus we’re going to be in a dark room for the better part of two hours, no need to fuss about it so much!’ but you know Steve. Duh, you dated him, of course you do. I think he just wanted to look good for—” she pauses, pulling back to look around them and make sure they’re alone, “—for Eddie, which is silly, y’know? Have you seen Eddie’s hair? He does not care about hair care routines and stuff!”
“I should’ve made you walk,” Steve mutters, feeling his blush tinting his cheeks pink again. Nancy stifles a chuckle behind her hand and Steve waves at her. “Hey, Nance.”
“Hi, Steve. Your hair looks good,” she says with a tiny smirk that makes Robin cackle loudly and makes Steve roll his eyes. She turns back to Robin, “And I haven’t been waiting long, I just got here.” 
Robin throws some finger guns at her. “Cool,” she says, “Should we get the tickets?” 
“We still have to wait for Eddie,” Steve interjects, looking around for any sign of Eddie’s van or Eddie himself. 
“You can wait for your boy,” Robin says with a smirk, “and Nance and I will get the tickets!” 
Steve lets out a long-suffering groan. “For the last time, Robin, he’s not my boy.”
Once again, she ignores him and holds her palm up at him. “Money, please.”
Steve sighs, pulling his wallet from his jeans and handing her a few bills, enough for four tickets. 
“Thanks!” She says, whirling around and hooking her arm with Nancy’s, dragging her towards the ticket booth and leaving Steve to wait for Eddie alone.  
He entertains himself by kicking a plastic bottle back and forth. He keeps his eyes on the ground as he does so he doesn’t notice Eddie approaching— not until he jumps on Steve’s back, wrapping an arm around his neck in a chokehold.
“Got ya, Harrington!” Eddie yells in Steve’s ear as Steve stumbles with the added weight but manages to find his balance before they both end up on the ground.
“Christ,” Steve mutters, trying to wiggle out of Eddie’s hold while he laughs like a maniac. “Eddie, get off, man!” 
“As His Majesty commands,” Eddie giggles, jumping off Steve’s back and sweeping down in a dramatic bow when Steve turns around to face him. 
Steve’s hands land on his hips. “You couldn’t just say hello like a normal person?” 
“That, my dear Stevie, would require that I was normal, and as the Hawkins population so graciously accused me of, I am—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “—a freak.”
Steve lets out a snort. “You’re late, that’s what you are,” he says and Eddie gives a dismissive wave. “The girls went inside to get the tickets.”
Eddie gasps, his eyes sparkling under the streetlights. “And you waited for me, sweetheart?” He asks, placing both of his hands over his heart. Steve’s cheeks pink up at the pet name. “You shouldn’t have!” 
“Noted,” Steve smirks. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, jerking his head towards the entrance. “C’mon, they’re waiting.”
Eddie falls into step beside Steve as he starts walking to where Robin and Nancy are whispering and giggling about something.
Robin notices them first. “Eddie!” 
“Lady Buckley,” Eddie greets her with a little royal twist of the hand, then repeats the motion in Nancy’s direction. “Lady Wheeler.” 
“Hey, Eddie,” Nancy says, playing along with a curt nod. “Glad you could make it.” 
“Late as usual,” Robin says, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. 
“Time is nothing but a social construct, Birdie.”
“Tell that to the movie starting in fifteen minutes,” Steve says, checking his watch. “We should head in. C’mon, Eds, I’ll buy you popcorn.” 
Eddie gives him a lopsided grin. “You sure know your way into a man’s heart, Harrington.” 
“Do I get popcorn too?” Robin asks with a knowing smile. 
Steve flicks her on the forehead. “Dude, I already paid for your ticket.”
“You also paid for Eddie’s!” She argues, crossing her arms over her chest petulantly. “Why does he get popcorn and I don’t?”
Steve glances at Eddie and finds him staring back at him with wide eyes, a strand of hair tugged in front of his face. Steve doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say— other than tell Robin to shut up. 
But before he can, Nancy, bless her soul, jumps in. “Hey, Robin,” she says, putting her hands on Robin’s shoulders so she can steer her away. “I’ll get you popcorn, okay?”
Robin lets Nancy guide her away, narrowing her eyes at Steve over her shoulder one last time.
Steve lets out a puff of air. 
He feels Eddie bump his shoulder. “Hey, I- I can get my popcorn, man. And I can pay for my ticket too,” he says a little awkwardly. “I don’t wanna get you in trouble with Buckley.”
“No way, Eds,” Steve is quick to say, bumping his shoulder right back. “It’s on me.”
Eddie offers him a shy little smile. “Well, I’ll get the next one then.”
Steve nods, stomach fluttering at the thought of doing this again with Eddie— maybe just the two of them next time. “Sure, as long as you don’t drag me here for another crappy horror movie.” 
“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “This isn’t a crappy horror movie! It’s supposed to be the best one of the year, I guarantee you’ll be scared.” 
Yeah, that’s precisely what Steve is worried about. He tries not to grimace at that. 
As long as you sit next to Robin, you’ll be fine, he thinks to himself. 
To Eddie, he says, “Whatever you say, Eds.”
They join the girls at the concession stand where Steve and Nancy get large popcorn bowls to share with Eddie and Robin, sodas for each of them, and Steve also asks for some gummy worms because he knows Eddie will put too much butter on their popcorn, get sick of it halfway through and will want to eat something sweet. 
As soon as the kid slides the bag of gummy worms over the counter, Steve puts it in his pocket. He doesn’t want Robin to see them and call him out on that too.  
He hands the popcorn to Eddie who, as expected, soaks it with butter, earning horrified looks from everyone around them, including Steve. Though Steve’s expression might also be overly affectionate. 
“Hey, don’t forget the napkins for your gross buttery fingers,” Steve tells him when Eddie deems their popcorn soggy enough and waits for him to grab a handful of napkins before they follow Nancy and Robin. 
“Why do you care if I have buttery fingers, hm?” Eddie asks, getting all up in Steve’s space. A few popcorn kernels fall on the carpet from Eddie moving so much. “Planning to hold my hand in there or something?” 
And Steve isn’t— he’s planning to hold Robin’s, but the thought of holding Eddie’s hand instead makes his heart stutter in his chest, pink tinting his cheeks.
“You wish, Munson,” he says, picking up the pace to catch up with the girls and walk into the dark movie theater, hoping it will help hide his blush from Eddie. 
“Oh, but I do, Stevie, every night,” Eddie says, following him with a shit-eating grin. 
It’s relatively empty inside and the four of them head straight to the back rows where Steve ends up sitting between Eddie and Robin, with Nancy on her other side. 
While they wait for the movie to start, Eddie leans over to whisper in Steve’s ear what critics are saying about the movie, what he’s most excited to see, what the scariest parts are supposed to be. Someone else might find it annoying— to have Eddie loudly chewing popcorn right next to their ear and talking about the movie they’re about to see— but Steve loves hearing Eddie talk, and maybe knowing what’s going to happen in the movie will help ease his nerves a bit.
Eddie doesn’t stop talking until the opening credits start to appear, settling back on his seat with a happy little squeal. 
Cute, Steve thinks as an idea occurs to him. Maybe if he focuses on Eddie instead of the screen it won’t be so bad. 
And so for the first thirty minutes of the movie, Steve keeps his attention on Eddie with the occasional glance at the screen to not be too obvious— even if Eddie is unlikely to notice since his eyes won’t leave the screen, barely blinking as he shoves handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. Halfway through, just like Steve predicted, Eddie shoves the popcorn towards him, buttery lips scrunched up. He downs his soda as he tries to wash away the taste of salt and butter before using the napkins to wipe his fingers. 
He glances away from the screen for the first time since the movie started when Steve nudges him with his elbow and holds out the gummy worms. 
Eddie’s eyes widen and then he gives Steve a slightly awed look. “Thanks, Stevie,” he whispers, grabbing the bag. 
Steve just winks at him, and when Eddie faces forward again, Steve thinks he can see a pink flush high on his cheeks thanks to the glow coming from the screen. 
Pleased, Steve finishes the popcorn and his soda, setting everything on the floor to pick up later and sitting back to stare at Eddie a bit more, paying little to no attention to the screen. 
That’s when bad things start to happen in the movie. 
Shoulders tense and heart hammering in his chest, Steve does his best to not glance at the screen but even then there’s no way to block out the screams or the other disturbing noises. When he looks at Eddie, he actually seems excited about the horrific, gruesome scenes taking place. On Steve’s other side, Robin and Nancy seem mostly unbothered, though Robin’s nose keeps scrunching up at times. They’re all handling it better than Steve is— fingers digging into his legs, eyes screwed shut, breathing in and out as he tries to calm down. 
Steve makes the mistake of opening his eyes and accidentally glancing at the screen just as some awful monster jumps at them, almost giving Steve a heart attack. His hand leaves his lap to grab Robin’s hand, needing physical comfort. 
It takes him a few seconds to realize that, while the hand he just wrapped his fingers around is thin and bony like Robin’s, it’s also bigger and uncharacteristically cold. Steve glances down at it with a frown and realizes that the reason why it’s so cold is the multiple rings adorning the fingers— fingers that don’t belong to Robin. 
Because Steve reached out with the wrong hand and grabbed Eddie’s instead. 
Fuck.
He glances away from their hands and finds Eddie already looking at him. Steve knows he must look like a startled deer, but instead of the teasing expression he expects to see on Eddie’s face, his eyebrows are knitted in concern. 
“You okay, Steve?” Eddie asks softly, leaning into Steve’s space even though the noises coming from the speakers are enough to drown out their voices. 
“Not really, but um, I didn’t mean to do that, sorry, I thought I reached for Robin,” Steve nervously stammers out. He manages to get his scrambled brain cells working and lets go of Eddie’s fingers— but before Steve can fully retrieve his hand, Eddie flips his hand over, trapping Steve’s there.
Steve blinks at him.
“Does it help? Holding someone’s hand?” Eddie asks and Steve nods dumbly. “Okay, then.” 
And so Eddie slides his fingers through the spaces between Steve’s fingers, intertwining their hands.
Steve looks down at them, blinking repeatedly, expecting them to disappear. “Eds, you don’t have to—”
“Shhh, I’m happy to,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand.  Steve’s breath catching in his throat. “Don’t you worry, big boy. I’ll protect you,” he adds with a wink. 
Steve knows Eddie is trying to lighten up the mood but he doesn’t laugh it off because the truth is that he does feel safer like this, more relaxed. He gives Eddie a small smile. “Okay.” 
“I guess it’s a good thing you made me grab those napkins, huh?” Eddie says, and this time, Steve does laugh, though he muffles it behind his other hand so hopefully the girls can’t hear it. He doesn’t need them glancing over and noticing their hands— Steve is already blushing enough as it is. 
After that, Eddie turns his attention back to the screen but Steve keeps his eyes on their hands for a while, taking advantage of the glow coming from the screen to study each of Eddie’s rings, his chipped nail polish, the tattoo on the side of his wrist, the scar from a demobat bite in the back of his hand. 
When he glances back at the screen, the worst of the movie seems to be over and he’s able to push through the remaining and significantly less scary scenes by squeezing Eddie’s hand and feeling Eddie squeeze right back. 
At one point, Robin glances at him, probably to check on him and her eyes end up on their held hands, a loud gasp slipping past her lips. 
Steve whips his head at her and meets her bulging eyes. She mouths her words at him— “Oh my God!”
“I know!” Steve mouths right back.
Because this might’ve started with Eddie being a good friend and comforting Steve, but as the movie droned on, it started to feel less like that— it started to feel like more. The way Eddie started rubbing his thumb over Steve’s hand, the way he blushed when Steve started to play with one of his rings, the way they both kept glancing at the other and smiling almost shyly. Steve’s heart hasn’t stopped jackhammering against his ribcage at the thought of all of this meaning something. 
But they can’t address any of that right now and Robin seems to realize that, so after giving Steve a dorky thumbs up, she turns her attention back to the movie. 
Steve does the same. On the screen, those who survived are being rescued and Steve can breathe a little easier. Before he knows it, the end credits start rolling up and Steve finally fully relaxes. 
He expects Eddie to let go of his hand right away but to Steve’s surprise, he doesn’t. Without letting go, Eddie leans over Steve to ask the girls what they thought about the movie. 
“I probably could’ve lived without seeing that many guts,” Robin says, her nose scrunching up. 
At the same time as Nancy says, “Oh, it was good!” 
Steve stares at her, dumbfounded, but Nancy has always been the bravest out of all of them. 
“Hell yeah, Wheeler!” Eddie whoops, reaching over with the hand not currently holding Steve’s to give her a high five. 
Nancy returns it with an amused chuckle. If she notices Eddie’s other hand intertwined with Steve’s, she doesn’t show it. “What about you, Steve? What did you think?” 
“I think I’m never letting the kids rent this fucking movie,” he says with a scoff.
Eddie throws his head back with a laugh, loud and full-bellied. It’s a good thing that the movie is over because the sound reverberates around the rapidly emptying room.
Next to Steve, Robin snorts. “You know Dustin is just gonna convince Eddie to rent it for him, right?” 
“Lies and slander!” Eddie protests. “I would never corrupt the youth like that!” He says, pulling his hand and Steve’s towards his chest, clutching it as he plays the to offended part. Well, if Nancy didn’t notice they were holding hands before she sure did now. 
“You would,” Robin says with a shake of her head, “You have.”
“I resent that, Buckley.”
“She’s right, Eds. Max told me you let her try beer last week,” Steve says, voice shaking slightly from Eddie keeping their hands on his chest, letting Steve feel his heartbeat. 
It stutters at Steve’s words and his eyes go wide. “That little snitch! Okay, it was one sip and she was blackmailing me!” 
Nancy raises her eyebrow. “With what?”
Eddie’s cheeks go pink and he averts his gaze, his eyes darting to Steve for a second before focusing on the rips in his jeans, tugging at them. “Um, nothing. All I’m saying is those little shits are menaces. They’ll find a way to watch the movie, y’know?”
“Well, god-fucking-speed to them,” Steve grumbles, “I’m never watching that shit again.”
Eddie leans close. “Not even if I agree to hold your hand, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and accompanied by a squeeze of his hand. 
Steve flushes— from Eddie’s voice in his ear, his hand still on his, the thought of holding it like this again. He opens his mouth and closes it, he wants to say no but he’s afraid the word will come out will be an embarrassingly eager yes. 
Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything because Nancy speaks up. “You guys ready to go?” 
They all nod and set about picking up their trash, which means Eddie finally has to let go of Steve’s hand. He tries not to look too disappointed by that but probably fails. As they start making their way out of the room, Eddie and Nancy fall into step together, engaging in conversation about their opinions on the movie, which in Eddie’s case includes a dramatic reenactment of his favorite parts.  
Steve and Robin are a few steps behind and Steve watches Eddie as he gestures wildly and makes weird noises and even falls to the ground at one point, pretending to die like one of the characters in the movie. Nancy laughs and helps him up and Steve feels a wave of affection for Eddie so strong he nearly doubles over with it. 
“Ugh,” Robin groans next to him. “Tone down the heart-eyes, dingus, it’s gross and I literally just saw someone’s insides explode.” 
“Fuck off, Robs,” Steve says, shoving her lightly, his cheeks dusted pink. She stumbles before crowding against Steve again, a bounce in her step. 
“Nope, you still have to tell me how you two ended up holding hands.”
Steve hangs a hand from his neck, wishing he could say he pulled it off by being smooth or something. God, he used to have game. “Uh, the movie was a lot and I accidentally reached for his hand instead of yours.”
Robin throws her head back with a loud cackle. “Oh Steve,” she says, holding onto Steve’s shoulder as she laughs. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
“Hey!”
At Steve’s protest, Robin shrugs. “What? I called you pretty!”
Eddie comes bouncing over. “Ohhh, are we calling Steve pretty? Can I join?” He asks, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. Robin meets Steve’s eyes and waggles her eyebrows. If Steve wasn’t trapped against Eddie’s side he would pinch her arm. 
“No, she’s just being annoying,” Steve says and Robin sticks her tongue out at him. 
“Doesn’t mean she isn’t right, pretty boy,” Eddie says, dropping his head to Steve’s shoulder and looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. Steve goes warm all over. He ducks his head, unable to keep a dopey smile from stretching over his lips. 
Robin clears her throat— she and Nancy are trying not to smirk as they look between the two of them. 
Steve squirms. “Um, you ready to go, Robs?” 
“Actually,” Robin says, exchanging a look with Nancy. “Nance is giving me a ride home.”
Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “What? Why?” He asks. “Is it because I threatened to push you out of the car and make you walk?” Next to him, Eddie lets out an amused snort. 
Robin waves him off. “No, it’s because um- she left a book! At my house last week! And she needs it back tonight, right Nance?”
Nancy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Oh, yes, it’s a very important book.”
Steve narrows their eyes at them. He’s not buying any of it. “Right.”
“Yeah! So I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she tells Steve then to Eddie she says, “And I’ll see you, well, probably tomorrow at work too when you inevitably show up to annoy me and Steve.”
Eddie grins, wiping a fake tear. “Oh Buckley, you know me so well.”
“Yeah, yeah, sometimes I wish I knew you less,” she says but the corners of her mouth are turned upwards. 
Eddie lets go of Steve so he can give Robin a quick hug. Then she throws her arms around Steve’s shoulders. “Call me when you get home and tell me everything,” she whispers in his ear and Steve frowns. 
He already told her about the hand holding and that’s pretty much it. He doesn’t know what she thinks will happen between Eddie and him when they say goodbye right here in the middle of the street, but he nods anyway.
They each get a hug from Nancy too and then she leads Robin away towards her car.  “Bye, boys! Miss you already!” Robin says, waving enthusiastically at them. 
Steve wiggles his fingers at her and Eddie gives her a two-fingered salute, both of them chuckling in amusement. 
“Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Steve says when it’s just the two of them and a few other moviegoers trickling out of the cinema. He can see Eddie’s van parked just across the street while his own car is a few blocks away. 
“Nope, Stevie, I’m walking you to your car,” Eddie says with a wink. “For protection, of course.”
“You know I keep a nailbat in my trunk, right?” Steve asks with a raised eyebrow. He’s over the movie by now, not worried about some creature jumping him on his way to his car— not more than usual at least.
Eddie shrugs. “My protection then.”
“If you insist,” Steve says with a chuckle.
They start walking towards Steve’s car, the street getting darker and quieter the further away they get from The Hawk. Their shoulders keep bumping together, the back of their fingers brushing with how close they’re walking. Every time it happens, Steve wants to grab Eddie’s hand and hold it again. 
“Hey, um, sorry I dragged you to this movie,” Eddie says after a short silence. 
Steve glances at him and finds Eddie looking at him shyly. “You didn’t drag me,” he says, nudging Eddie with his elbow. “I said yes.”
“But why? If you hate horror movies so much.” 
“I like hanging out with you,” he says and Eddie’s eyes widen almost imperceptively. “And I had fun just— not during the movie. Though holding your hand wasn’t so bad.”
Eddie chuckles, ducking his head. “Mediocre hand holding is what I’m best at,” he jokes. “And I’m glad you said yes, you know I love my Stevie time, but maybe next time you can pick the movie.” 
“You mean next time we come here with Robin and Nancy?”
Eddie bites his lip, side-eyeing Steve. “Sure, yeah, or y’know just the two of us, if that’s a thing you’d want to do.”
His voice is small and he’s anxiously playing with his fingers and with a start, Steve realizes that Eddie is nervous. Cute, Steve thinks.
He tilts his head. “Like a date?” 
There’s a sharp intake of breath and then Eddie is grabbing some hair and tugging it in front of his face, but Steve still sees the way his cheeks turn red. He mumbles, “Um, yeah?”
Butterflies explode in Steve’s stomach then and he feels a dopey smile stretching over his lips. Eddie’s eyes go wide, looking hopeful at Steve’s expression. He spits the hair from his mouth, revealing a small smile tugging at his lips. “How about next Friday?” Steve asks.
A disbelieving laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Really?” When Steve nods, Eddie lets out a cute little yelp at the confirmation. “Friday it is,” he says. His eyes get a little twinkle in them. “Do I need to pretend to be scared so you’ll hold my hand?” 
“Nope,” he says, and after looking around and making sure they’re alone in the street, Steve finally reaches over and grabs Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers like Eddie did in the movies. 
Eddie’s mouth makes a little “o” shape as he blinks down at them, color rising in his cheeks. 
Steve tugs on his hand to get him walking again, pressed together to hide their hands between them even if it’s dark and there’s no one around.
Sooner than either of them would’ve liked, they reach the Beemer. “Here we are,” Steve says, leaning back against the car, their hands dangling in the space between them. “And we didn’t even need my nailbat.” 
“You know that’s not the only reason why I walked you to your car, right?” 
Steve’s eyebrows go up as he feigns shock. “You mean you didn’t actually expect us to get attacked by slimy monsters with razor-like teeth?”
“Nope,” Eddie says, stepping closer until he’s pressed against Steve’s body, pushing him against the car. “Not that I’d be surprised in this fucked up town but no, um, I was also hoping I’d get to do this.”
Steve opens his mouth to ask what he means by this but Eddie shuts him up by hesitantly grabbing Steve’s neck and leaning in, softly pressing his lips to Steve’s mouth, who gasps in surprise before the sound melts into a happy sigh. He lets go of Eddie’s hand so he can wrap his arms around Eddie, bringing him closer, tilting his head for a better angle so their lips move together more easily and he can taste butter and salt and the slightest hint of sugar. They keep the kiss short, knowing that despite the lack of street lights around them and the late hour, they’re still in public. 
When Eddie pulls back, his cheeks are bright pink and his eyes are sparkling, his smile giddy and so beautiful. Steve already wants to kiss him again. 
“Jesus Christ, Steve, don’t look at me like that,” Eddie groans, and Steve’s eyes snap up from Eddie’s lips, where they darted to without Steve realizing it.
He blinks. “Like what?”
“Like you want to—” His hand slides through the air as he gestures aggressively, “—eat me or something. I’m trying to be a gentleman here and not drag you into the backseat of your car.”
Steve smirks. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”
“Steeeeeve,” Eddie whines.
“Okay, okay,” Steve says, holding his hands up with a laugh. He doesn’t trust himself not to jump Eddie right now if he stays here any longer anyway. “Goodnight, Eds.” 
Eddie’s face softens. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” 
When neither of them move— Steve to get in the car and Eddie to go back to his van— Steve shoves him and sends Eddie’s clumsy ass stumbling back. “Go! Before monsters actually jump from the shadows and murder us.” 
“You’d protect me though, wouldn’t you, Stevie?” Eddie teases, batting his eyelashes at him. 
“Always,” Steve says, then makes shooing motions at him. “Now go.”
“Yes, your Majesty, I’m going,” Eddie says as he starts walking— backwards so he can look at Steve some more.  
Steve blows a kiss at him, making Eddie trip over nothing and stumble, but he catches himself and he catches Steve’s kiss in his hand— and then makes out with his hand, making Steve scrunch up his nose and chuckle fondly at the same time. 
He waits until Eddie turns around to get in his car, catching sight of his dopey smile on the rearview mirror as he adjusts it. But he can’t help it— he held hands with Eddie, he’s going on a date with him, he kissed him. 
Turns out Steve does have a reason to call Robin when he gets home after all. 
263 notes · View notes
woso-dreamzzz · 8 months ago
Text
Scottish Sam
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Magda wants you to wear her jersey
Tumblr media
It's not very often that Magda gets to see you in her jerseys.
You wore Pernille's Wolfsburg and Denmark one easily. You'd had, on special occasions like the World Cup, worn Magda's Sweden jersey. You'd never willingly worn her Chelsea one.
You'd complained about everything when she used to force you into it. The size. The feel. But most of all, the colour.
Your aversion to Chelsea was something she had grown to live with but, now that you were at Bayern, Magda hoped you would wear her jerseys more often.
There was a strong sense of pride that she could never properly explain when she saw you in one of her shirts like she could imagine the woman you'd become in your own professional jerseys. There was something about it that just made her turn to mush which was why she was glad the Bayern jersey had red.
Red was your favourite colour. She blamed it for the reason that you were drawn to Arsenal in the first place but now she was sure that it was going to work in her favour.
Of course, that all came crashing down when she walked into the locker room to find you wearing a Bayern jersey that wasn't hers.
It wasn't Pernille's either - the only other person she could tolerate you wearing.
Instead, you were wearing Sam's.
You were standing in the woman's cubby too, arms crossed over your chest as you oversaw the other girls milling about waiting to go onto the pitch.
You look a bit scary like that but only a little because you're the same little girl who still slept with your stuffed toys and complained about eating fruit.
Sam's grinning as she looks around, showing anyone who would listen what you were wearing.
"Did you have to let her wear that?" Magda groans," I had a plan, Pernille!"
"It wouldn't have worked," Pernille laughs," She has opinions now. You can't trick her as easy as before."
"We'll see."
As Sam helps you get down, Magda pulls her jersey out of her bag and clears her throat.
You look over at her, wandering closer because Momma has your keeper gloves and Maria and Anna said that you can train with them and Cecilía today.
"What's that?" You ask.
"A Bayern jersey."
It's your size and you look at it suspiciously. You pull at the one you're already wearing. "Why?"
"Well, I thought you'd like to wear it."
"I'm wearing one now."
"But this one is special."
That catches your attention and you shuffle closer. "Why's it special?"
"Because," Morsa says with a flourish," It's mine."
Your interest waves and you move back to Momma. "Oh. That's boring."
Momma laughs and Morsa hisses at her," Pernille! It's not funny!" She turns back to you again. "It's not boring. We can match!"
You huff and stare at Momma. "Do I have to?"
She laughs and cups your cheeks. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to." She helps you slip on your keeper gloves and turns you around so she can fix your hair.
You're facing Morsa now, who is looking between you and the little you-sized shirt in her hand. You stare unblinking at her as Momma runs a brush through your hair and begins to braid it back.
Morsa sighs before tucking it back into her bag and waving a teasing finger in your face. "I'll get you in that soon, Princesse. Just you wait."
You stick your tongue out at here. "Nu-uh!"
Morsa sticks her tongue out too and Momma finishes your hair.
You go towards where the keepers are waiting before you freeze and turn back to Morsa, tugging on her shirt.
"Morsa," You say," You have to take a picture."
"How come?"
"I want to show Australian Sam my new shirt."
Magda bursts out laughing, her ego suddenly soothed by your desire.
You'd never once in your life worn Sam's jersey, Chelsea's Sam of course. You'd always refused, running away whenever she tried to ask you and screeching whenever she came near you with it.
It was always funny to watch and Sam had to try and convince you from a distance.
You never accepted though and Magda's ego suddenly feels fine again now she knows you want to show Sam that you're happily wearing Scottish Sam's jersey.
"Alright," Magda laughs, positioning you so you're looking over your shoulder with a smile as Sam's jersey in seen clearly. She snaps the picture.
"You have to send it to Australian Sam," You say," Okay?"
"Got it, Princesse. Go on off to training."
You grin and nod, running off towards the Bayern keepers, who lead you outside.
"You're not actually going to send it to her, are you?" Pernille asks and Magda's answering smile is all the explanation she needs. "Magda!"
"What?" Magda asks innocently," I'm just respecting Princesse's wishes. There's nothing wrong with that."
Pernille rolls her eyes but doesn't argue anymore and Magda takes this as her chance.
SAM 😈 wtf???? you can't let her do that Magda!!! where's the loyalty???? get that girl into my Chelsea jersey this instant!!!
572 notes · View notes
warping-realities · 22 days ago
Text
Where Would You Rather Be? (Redux)
A collaboration with the amazing @johnbrand
“You know I love you, right?” Malcolm reaffirmed to his boyfriend. “And I’m here for you, babe.”
It had been a hell of a week for Shane. He had been living in the city for almost ten years now, moving there for college and then sticking around after graduation. It was a scary transition, but thanks to the quick friends he made, the ride was a bit easier. One of them, Shane’s freshman roommate—who he had lived with and then kept close since they met—got an eviction notice the week before. Shane had been as supportive as he could through the whole mess, but watching his buddy pack up and leave was a real kick in the gut. His friend would now be living hours away, no longer right next door.
Shane nodded his head, followed by a quick “Thanks, babe.”
“I’m happy to be the shoulder you can cry on, I know this sucks” Malcolm sympathized. “Still wanna grab dinner tonight? We can bail on the plans if you need some time.”
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Shane said with a slight smile. “Plus, it’s our third anniversary—you’ve done more than your fair share, and I’m super grateful for that.”
Malcolm chuckled, quickly snatching Shane from behind. “Then maybe you’ll have to show some gratitude later tonight.”
Rolling his eyes, Shane still returned the passionate kiss from his boyfriend.
Tumblr media
That night, he found himself back in his own home. After climbing a few flights of stairs, he was surprised to find his buddy’s old apartment door wide open. Curious, Shane peeked in, and without thinking twice, he stepped into the familiar space, now filled with unknown furniture, boxes, and other random junk scattered around.
Tumblr media
Before he could snoop around, a voice from behind barked at him to move aside. “Get outta the way, bro!”
Tumblr media
The rich baritone caught Shane so off guard that he jumped a bit, scurrying as a big dude stomped through the doorway before dropping a few boxes. At least six feet tall, the buff, masculine intruder immediately intimidated Shane. Shirtless, barefoot, and rocking some tiny shorts that could easily be mistaken for underwear. Probably due to the effort of hauling all those boxes, the muscular man gave off a strong, manly odor that quickly overwhelmed Shane’s senses. In fact, all of his senses, although he didn’t really realize it. The stranger smiled cockily, sizing Shane up with eyes glinting with mischief before speaking.
Tumblr media
“Mind being useful and helping me organize the rest of my stuff?” the man asked. Shane, a bit freaked out by the pure masculinity in front of him, didn’t say a word. The guy didn’t need his response, though, knowing Shane would help him out no matter what. Shane couldn’t explain what came over him; his mouth was just hanging open while cardboard boxes were dumped into his waiting arms.
In minutes, he was soaked in sweat, having to peel off layer after layer of clothing as he helped the stranger organize the apartment. His mind screamed at the absurdity of the situation, yet he kept doing what the man asked him to do like a robot. After an hour of relentless work, the guy, noticing Shane’s drenched clothes, pulled out a change of clothes from one of the boxes still piled in a corner.
“Put these on, thank goodness I wear extra-large, bro, so they should fit your chubby ass!” he said, flexing his muscles and releasing another wave of that masculine musk from his armpits.
Tumblr media
Drowsy Shane picked up the clearly unwashed tank top and gym shorts, reeking of that same animal musk but concentrated from days of use. That scent almost made him hurl.
“What are you waiting for, man? Put these on already. We still got work to do.”
Once again, not understanding why, Shane felt compelled to obey, stripping down in front of his new neighbor until he was left only in his underwear. He was already putting on his shorts when the man interrupted him.
Tumblr media
“No, man, you gotta let the jewels breathe. Not that they take up much space, from what I can see, but there’s no reason to squeeze the poor things,” he quipped, bursting into laughter, and Shane, even without getting the joke, found himself laughing along. When he was finally dressed in the provided clothes, completely engulfed by the animalistic smell, the man approached him with a grin.
“Back to work, man, a little more exercise and maybe you’ll fill out those clothes just right,” he said with a smirk. Shane just nodded and kept working.
Before he knew it, another two hours had flown by, and the apartment now had a minimally organized look, unlike the previous chaos. The night fully enveloped the dimly lit room.
“Martin,” the mysterious man finally offered his name, alongside a giant meaty hand that crushed Shane’s. “Are you my new neighbor?”
“Uh... yeah,” Shane finally spoke, pointing to the wall their apartments would share.
“Cool, bro,” Martin replied. “Wanna chill on the balcony with me for a bit?”
Shane checked his watch, noting that there was still some time before he had to get ready for his dinner date. “Sure.” Following the muscular alpha outside, Shane took a seat on the wicker couch while waiting for Martin. He did his best to plan out the remaining time he had. Not realizing that the tight outfit now seemed to hang off his body, which in the last few hours had shed a good amount of fat while gaining a little muscle, revealing a face that was somewhere between cute and handsome.
“Sit over there,” Martin directed as he stepped onto the balcony. Shane didn’t think twice about getting up and moving aside so Martin could sit on the couch. It wasn’t until he moved to the other side of the coffee table that Shane realized Martin wanted him to sit on the deck.
“That’s right, faggot. Sit in front of my feet,” Martin said, the friendly smile fading from his face as he propped his giant, smelly feet up on the table.
Tumblr media
Shane was shocked, offended by his neighbor’s sudden bigotry. The lame joke about the size of his dick was one thing, but this vocabulary was degrading and... the smell of a full day’s work was coming off those giant boards Martin called feet. And Shane train of thought completely derailed. So he did as he was told, taking his seat in front of the two massive soles placed before him. Somewhat exasperated by the incomprehensible actions he had taken up until that point and anxious not to miss his meeting with his boyfriend, Shane shifted uncomfortably in the awkward spot, to the point that Martin himself noticed.
Tumblr media
“You got any plans tonight, fag?” Martin questioned.
In a flustered, embarrassed, and strangely lustful state, Shane answered, “Yeah, I have an anniversary dinner with my boyfriend.”
Martin snickered. “And when is that?”
“I should start getting ready in 10 minutes,” Shane’s response was robotic. “I’ve gotta shower, get dressed, wrap my present, and then travel.”
Martin mulled this over for a bit, relishing the fact that Shane would wait for his next prompt. He was completely overtaken by the scent that wafted from the other man. Martin’s natural musk and body odor held an authority over him like nothing else ever had.
“Let me make you a deal, faggot,” Martin finally said. “You can bounce now, get ready, and have a great night with your loving boyfriend. Or you can stay seated right where you are, at the feet of a straight man, waiting for my next command and finally discover what it’s like to be a real man!”
Shane didn’t reply, shocked by what Martin was insinuating. With casual indifference, Martin wiggled his toes in front of Shane, knowing the silence was already his answer. But in true alpha fashion, Martin made sure to hammer his superiority home.
“Where would you rather be, faggot?” he asked, with his feet releasing another wave of potent funk towards an already completely subdued prey.
Tumblr media
They stayed there without saying a word: Martin laid-back, comfortable, and minding his own business, and Shane at his feet. Neither got up as time ticked by. In his head, Shane’s plans slowly morphed. He didn’t need to wrap Malcolm’s present, he didn’t need to shower, he didn’t even need to change. Eventually, the anniversary dinner came and went, and Shane was still at the feet of the straight man.
“Well, now that you’ve made your choice I gotta keep my promise, right, sissy boy? But to be my bro, you gotta become a real man, don’t you, Shotgun?”
“My name is…”
“Shut up, sissy boy. You’ll be able to talk when you’re a man and have a place to sit by my side, not at my feet!”
Imbued by Martin’s potent scent and words of dominance, Shane fell silent.
“I don’t give a damn what you were known for, Shotgun,” Martin retorted, making the smaller man shiver at the sound of that nickname. “I don’t care about your art degree or the lame job you do or the degenerate things you do with your fag boyfriend. And that doesn’t matter to you either, Shotgun, because it’s not real, but what I’m gonna tell you now is that it is real, and your jelly brain is gonna do its best to make it happen.” The man concluded, lifting both arms and releasing the most powerful wave of musk yet, taking Shane... or Shotgun?... what kind of name is that? That didn’t matter, only the wave of nauseating smell that invaded him.
Tumblr media
“Take it like a man, Shotgun,” Martin ordered, and he obeyed. “What you’re gonna do is very simple, I want you to think about all the jocks who humiliated you in school, the fraternity brothers who often give each other nicknames just like yours, Shotgun, which you certainly mocked but deep down envied. I want you to think about all the real men you and your faggot friends called toxic behind their backs without having the guts to face them. I want you to picture yourself as one of them, with all the stereotypes of white cis straight men, yada yada yada bullshit that your liberal faggot mind has stored. I want you to take all their traits and slap them on yourself. Habits, behavior, conduct, appearance, desires, thoughts, everything! Yeah, everything you think about guys like me applied to you. When you’re done, Shotgun, then we’ll talk man to man, and only then I’ll wanna know more about my new bro. A bro who scored this awesome apartment for a fellow frat brother moving across the country as soon as he heard someone just like him was moving here, just for the spirit of brotherhood that exists between real men that your old self would never have been able to grasp! Do it now!
The wave of nausea hit its peak; Shane felt the vomit rising in his throat but held it back, swallowing it down again, while another sensation took over his head, a feeling of being invaded and violated, his mind dominated by a relentless buzz, his vision flooded with a myriad of colors, while his whole body itched as if a million ants were crawling over him. The whole situation was overwhelming. And it got worse when his memories and recollections started to twist and reform, everything he was being tangled up in a whirlwind of misinformation. He found himself facing several traumatic situations from his life, but in reverse roles; the bullying he suffered turning into the bullying he practiced, the sports activities observed from afar being felt and lived, the toxic behavior going from being judged to being experienced and appreciated. And with that, new memories surfacing, time in the gym sculpting his body to perfection, nights of sex with various women whose names he didn’t even remember, his work at the art gallery replaced by a finance job earned not through talent but through connections made via his fraternity brothers. At last the image of Malcolm, the great love of his life, being erased. In an internal scream of despair, he tried to cling to that safe harbor, but that ship had already sailed to new waters, taking with it his humility, knowledge, empathy, and kindness. Leaving only inflated self-confidence, privilege, and respect only for those he considers equal or superior.
As the night wore on and Shane’s inner turmoil reached its peak, his exterior was undergoing its own transformation. His muscles were going into overdrive. They just kept contracting and expanding. Over and over. Lost in jumbled thoughts, he couldn’t feel his bones stretching longer. But each one was stretching out to its new length, growing denser to support his new weight. His average build quickly disappeared as muscle packed onto his recent lean frame. Little by little, he felt constricted by Martin’s clothing. The shirt pulled at his chest and shoulders while the shorts barely contained his thick, muscular ass, with his thighs growing like tree trunks, stretching the fabric to its limit. His shoulders broadened, turning into large round orbs jutting from his sides. Two mighty pecs pushed a bit in front of him while a firm set of abs grew more defined right underneath. His biceps bulged out of his arms while his forearms widened to support the new strength building within him. Amid the chaos of conflicting memories, his average-sized dick, the butt of Martin’s jokes, quickly grew to new heights. What had been his maximum hard was now his flaccid member. His calves grew to the size of most men thighs. Meanwhile, his feet grew well beyond the previous size 8, increasing to the point of competing with Martin’s stinky paws, which had to be at least size 13. The changes also hit his face, which took on a more squared-off, rugged look, with his button nose growing and turning into an aquiline nose that could’ve easily been broken in a fight, which only reinforced the raw masculinity taking over from his previous cuteness.
Finally, a smile formed on his chiseled face, oozing confidence and displaying his internal arrogance for all to see.
Seeing that smile appear, Martin knew his work was nearly done. And when that new Shane let out a fart and a burp, he knew it was all over. Feeling that new putrid smell mix with his own musk, he turned to the other man.
“Damn, Shotgun, you’re rank!”
“I didn’t get the name Shotgun Shane for nothing, man; it was for the shots I could take back in college, but I almost got called Stinkbomb for what I let out. Now, if you’re gonna complain about the smell, you better get those damn feet outta my face!” Shane shot back, his arrogant smile widening. This made Martin lift his feet off Shane’s face while cracking up.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“I knew we’d be best bros the moment we met, Shotgun,” he said, admiring the result of his handiwork.
Tumblr media
“Me too, bro; way better having you as a neighbor than that faggot who lived here before.”
“If you compare me to some queer again, I’m gonna mess you up.”
“You can try!” Shane replied, flexing one of his powerful arms before continuing. “But you’re right, there’s no comparison, dude. To make it up to you, how about I take you to check out the hottest club in town? Celebrate the move by picking up some chicks?”
“Now you’re speaking my language, bro!”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
….
Martin hated waiting on others, even though he himself had no problem showing up late. Apparently, Shane inherited that same trait during his transformation. The other man had gone home, took forever in the shower, and then posted some pretty provocative videos on his social media. The first one showed off his well-developed muscles while he seductively invited all the girls interested in him to meet him and his best bro at a city club.
In the second video, he just slid the camera down, revealing the huge package he had stuck in his underwear. All of this under the suggestive caption, “You really gonna miss this?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Martin was super stoked with the results of his actions. Moving to a new city was tricky, but having a bro made it a whole lot easier, no matter that bro had been crafted by him. Still, he wondered if he hadn’t put too much of himself into the other man while he waited for him with a frown and his arms crossed. After a reasonable amount of waiting, he saw the gigantic figure strutting toward him down the first-floor corridor and was sure he had indeed put too much of himself into the other man, which could lead to some friction in the future when they had to sort out their power dynamics, but at that moment, that didn’t matter; he just wanted to have a good time, and there wouldn’t be better company than someone who was practically him in another body.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
That became even clearer when Shane stopped in front of his irritated face and flexed his muscles playfully.
“What’s with the ugly mug, dude? You wanna throw down?”
“The ugly mug is because you took your sweet time, Shotgun! And you can joke all you want, but you can’t compete with this,” he replied, flexing one of his powerful arms. “Now let’s go after some hot chicks, or what?”
Tumblr media Tumblr media
….
Malcolm didn’t quite know why he was in that dump of bigotry and toxicity. He just felt like something was missing and couldn’t quite put his finger on what. His trip to the place was the result of an Instagram video where one of the typical patrons invited all the interested bitches to come on down. Malcolm didn’t consider himself a bitch and usually would’ve laughed if someone said he might be into a dude like that, yet here he was. Knowing he had no chance of getting close to that man radiating toxicity. But only when he saw that self-proclaimed Shotgun Shane chatting up a hot young woman did something stir within him, a memory of a passionate kiss shared just that morning.
Tumblr media
“S-Shane…?” he murmured, though he didn’t know exactly who this man was, he felt something deeply wrong was going on. While he stood there, dumbfounded, the man made his move and kissed the woman, which made him decide to leave the place as he was hit by another wave of strangeness and sadness mixed together.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
However, he wasn’t the only one watching the scene; on the other side of the club, Martin saw his supposed wingman score before he did.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Damn, I really put too much of myself in that dude,” he muttered as he weaved through the crowd. That’s when he saw Malcolm hurrying along with a look of confusion.
Tumblr media
Well, if his wingman bailed on him, he could just make another one, right? It’s not like there was a shortage of material to work with, as that other faggot’s presence left abundantly clear. He just needed to be a bit more careful not to overdo it again, although he didn’t really have that refined of a control over the final result, and the most likely outcome would be ending up with another bro exactly like him. But he didn’t care that much; to him, there wouldn’t be better company than his own, and if someone asked him where and with whom he rather be, the answer would always be the same, he thought, smiling as he approached his future bro.
Tumblr media
204 notes · View notes
revehae · 7 months ago
Text
warnings: noncon
wc. 1053
repost.
jeno wasn’t expecting to see you, but when he saw you, standing at his front doorstep in that tiny miniskirt that left little to the imagination, it felt like christmas had come prematurely.
“no offense,” jeno said, glancing down at you with your hands locked timidly behind your back as he chatted with you in his kitchen for the past few minutes. “but this couldn’t have been a text message?”
your eyes widened a little, nervous. he knew it was the wrong thing to ask. not only was he well aware that he made you nervous, you were so fucking sensitive. you were twiddling with your fingers behind your frame. “oh, um, i just thought it would be nicer to thank you in person. i can leave, if you want.”
jeno resisted a snicker. this was a typical response. it was brutal, he knew, to have fun toying with your reactions, but he couldn’t help but find it cute how easy it was to hurt your feelings and yet you continued to be so meek.
as an early christmas present, jeno had gifted you with a necklace a couple of days ago as a thanks for helping him with his finals. it was clinging to your neck now, silver stones twinkling under his kitchen lights. you hadn’t been home when he came to drop it off, him having handed it off to your stepbrother to give to you, so you never got the chance to express your gratitude.
“nah, i want you to stay,” jeno said, coming a foot closer. 
“oh, uh,” you stammered. “okay.”
god, you were everything. when he was there, it was practically impossible for you to keep yourself together. in spite of all these long years of knowing each other, of jeno being at your older stepbrother’s side and coming over to your house so often your parents entrusted him with a spare key, he thought you would’ve been a little more comfortable.
but you weren’t. you liked jeno, that was obvious enough, but not in the way other girls did. to them, he was irresistible, a deity whose bones they were desperate to jump and worshiped. and to jeno, it was better that way. how typical of him to want the one girl that wasn’t interested in knowing what he looked like with his pants off.
sometimes he still liked to hope that you did, that all your shifting and fidgeting as you sat at upstairs at your bedroom desk together, alone, swallowing the lump in your throat when you noticed how heavily his eyes were trained on you, was because of some newfound attraction you held, but he knew better. 
it was something else. fear, maybe. though jeno couldn’t imagine why, because he hadn’t given you a reason to fear him yet. regardless of what it was that had you so uneasy around him, jeno liked it a little more than he thought he would. he liked your nerves, your wariness. 
of course, you noticed him gradually approaching you, your heartbeat quickening with every step he took. it always did that when jeno got too close, for no apparent reason. your stepbrother liked to tease you, joking that you were head over heels for his best friend, but you knew that that couldn’t be further from the truth.
jeno was handsome and he was kind, and funny, and everything in between, but he was also scary as all hell. you couldn’t really explain why, you never could. even when you were little, though jeno had never been anything but a sweetheart to you, when you knew he was coming over, you lingered in your room the whole time and only came out to eat.
at least now you could handle being alone with him, but like all those years ago, there was something about his aura, his spirit, that was asphyxiating.
and then he started to be attracted to you, which couldn’t have been any creepier. 
you took a step back when you noticed jeno’s hands inch dangerously close to your hips. clearing your throat, you suggested, “maybe i should go.”
jeno snickered, as if that was funny to him. “you’re not going anywhere. you know that, though.”
that’s the moment when jeno learned something else about you: for a girl as shy as you were, you sure as hell could put up a fight. 
not too good of one, but it wasn’t your fault that jeno was stronger than you’d ever be. it wasn’t your fault that when he brought his palm squarely to your throat, squeezing just enough to threaten the integrity of your windpipe, you froze like a deer in headlights. it wasn’t your fault that he threw you to the floor and tore your panties from under your tiny skirt, threatening to crush every bone in your body if you made a noise.
it occured to you then that you had every right to be terrified, that the bad energy you sensed from his mere presence wasn’t a figment of your imagination, but your subconscious warning you of the threat it had always recognized him for.
you wanted to yelp when you heard his belt unbuckling, and you wanted to scream when he threw your legs open, but it snatched the sound right of the back of your throat when he pushed himself inside. you had no noise, only endless tears, making the ceiling fan blur as you stared at it. 
you looked away. you didn’t want to remember this happening, but the force of his thrusts alone told you that your body would, his hips jack-hammering your core and his fingertips tightening and loosening around your neck, taunting you.
“fuck, you’re just as i imagined,” jeno groaned, wanting to be buried as deeply inside of you as he could, and it felt like he was already there.
“jeno, please, stop. please, it hurts,” you whimpered, eyes pleading for mercy, for remorse. “i’ll tell jaemin!”
“tell him,” jeno said, chuckling. his breath was heavy and thick, all you could hear in his voice. his eyes fell from your trembling lips to your rolled up shirt, your perfect breasts exposed to his bare eyes. you felt so hot and so cold at the same time. “tell him everything. i’ll give you a story, alright?”
673 notes · View notes
arc-misadventures · 21 days ago
Note
How well do you Coco could make Ren look like a girl?
'A Lady's Face is Like the Dessert; Everyday she has a Different Face.'
Coco: Jaune, I have an important question for you!
Jaune: What's up, Coco? Hi, Ren.
Ren: Hi, Jaune.
Coco: Now then, let me pose an interesting question to you! How could you make, Ren look more like a girl?
Jaune: Simple: Just make him wear makeup.
Coco: No that's...?
Coco put her hand in her chin as she inspected, Ren's face.
Coco: Actually no, that would have worked, that would have worked very easily...! But, no! That's not how we do it!
Coco: Entirely...
Jaune: Then, how do we do it?
Coco: First off we put up a screen!
Jaune: Eh?
Suddenly, a dividing screen appears, blocking Jaune's vision.
Jaune: What, where did you...?
Coco: Next we strip them!
Jaune: Wha?
Ren: WHAT?!
Jaune suddenly sees, Ren's clothes being tossed over the divider: Down from her shoes to his dress shirt.
Jaune: Uhhh?
Coco: We apply some light make up~!
Ren: Hey, wait?!
Coco: A chop to the throat to readjust the voice~!
Ren: A what?
(Thwack!)
Ren: (Cough cough cough!) The hell, Coco?!
Jaune: D-Did his voice get higher?
Coco: And, lastly we get rid of the bindings~!
Jaune: Bindings?
Ren: Wait, no!
Jaune suddenly saw several Velcro straps flying over the divider. One particular large binding landing his hands. He looked over the binding in his hand, wondering why the hell, Ren was wearing this.
Jaune: Ren, why do you have these things...?
Coco: It's simple, Jaune! How else was he supposed to stay hidden?
Jaune: What the hell are you talking abou...?
Coco pushed the divider aside to show a, Coco with a large smug smile, and standing next to her was a brunette girl with an plump things, and a sizeable chest.
Tumblr media
Jaune: Uhh?! W-W-W-What the hell?!! I-Is that...?! Is that you, REN?!
Coco: Ahh-Ah-Ah~! You'd be mistaken there, Jaune! May I present to you, Lie Rin~!
Jaune: R-Rin?! Ren?! No, Rin... AHH?! The hell?! Have you been a girl the whole time?!
Rin: Ahh... y-yeah... I have always been a girl... S-Surprise...?
Jaune: Why?!
Rin: N-Nora thought I was a boy, and it just sorta stuck... but then puberty hit, and I... Well, I just wrapped them up, and... yeah...
Jaune: And, you knew this, Coco?!
Coco: Yep~!
Jaune: How?!
Coco: Woman's intuition~!
Jaune: I'd call bullshit, but I have seven sisters, and a mother who have been using that line on me for years, so yeah.
Rin: I'm sorry for lying to you, Jaune... I just got used to dressing like... like, Ren that I couldn't stop.
Jaune: That's... okay? Wait, Nora obvious knows this. She has an unexpected knowledge on many, many things... It's scary what she knows about...
Rin: Quite scary...
Jaune: But does, Pyrrha know?
Rin: Yeah... I told her after that incident with the Boartusks, and those mud holes.
Jaune: Cause the three of you feel in the mud, and had a shower together?
Rin: Yeah, pretty much...
Jaune: Wait... Shower...?! You've were staring at my junk that day!
Rin: What?! N-No I wasn't!
Jaune: Bullshit! You were looking at me so long that there is no way you didn't see my four inches!
Rin: What, you're not four inches, you're at least seve...?! EEEP?!
Jaune: I fucking knew it!
Coco: Seven inches?! That explains why he refuses to wear speedos...
Jaune: That's it missy! We need to have a private chat!
Rin: Whoa hey, Jaune?!
Jaune grabbed, Rin's hand, and pulled her towards their dorm room. As they were leaving, they walked by, Nora, and Pyrrha who offered, Rin a wave as they walked by.
Nora: So, how did it go?
Coco: Quite well if I say so myself.
Pyrrha: He may be upset, but I'm sure they can work things out.
Nora: Jaune-Jaune may be angry, but they'll be able to work things out.
Coco: Considering how big he was getting, I think they can find several things to talk about~!
Pyrrha: Jaune's seven inches soft you know.
Coco: S-Soft?! Then how big is he?!
NP: Ten inches.
Coco: Holy shit...
Coco: Well, we'll know how well their chat goes, based on how much she'll be limping in the morning~!
Nora: Hehehe~1
Pyrrha: ...
Pyrrha: You want to have a go with him too, don't you, Coco?
Coco: Fuck yes I do!
Pyrrha: do you mind if we...?
Nora: Only if we all do it together...
Coco: ...
Pyrrha: ...
Coco: Fuck it, I'm game~!
Pyrrha: Oh, this is going to be fun~!
245 notes · View notes