#On that note to anyone including this anon!- if you’re not sure I got your request please feel free to ask me!

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

[girlboypersonthingy]

Hiiii I wanted to request hazbin boys x injured male reader? Reader gets into a scuffle, gets roughed up quite a bit and comes home not looking too well (I wanna see em fuss over the reader lol)

Mmph, yes yes, I love boys fussing over their injured darling. Too fuckin cute! I have so many great requests for Hazbin and Helluva, I’m so excited 🫨 thanks for the request and enjoy anon 💟

Notes: gn!reader bc anyone can get into a scuffle so why not, mostly fluff with a sprinkle of angst

TW: blood, bruises, fighting, cussing, of course it’s suggestive during Angel’s part 😉

Includes Lucifer, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox and Alastor

Hazbin boys x reader- Bruises 🖤

You’re not sure who roughed you up, you barely got a look at the dudes before you were laid out on the dirty sidewalk getting punched and trying to push one of the perpetrators off you. Whoever he was, he was strong and brutal and must’ve really had a problem with you because damn, you were fucked up. Not that you couldn’t hold your own, but there was more than one of them and they really caught you off guard. You had suffered several blows to the face and a few kicks to the stomach and back. Seemed like the group showed just a bit of mercy tho- they could’ve broken your legs or straight up killed you. Luckily, you limped away with only minor injuries but a huge blow to your psyche. While it could’ve been worse, it was horrific and traumatizing regardless.

It’s hard trying to stay tough and take care of yourself because you’re scared, feeling like you’ll have to look over your shoulder from now on when you’re out on the streets. It was also a bit embarrassing considering Husk and Angel offered to tag along with you to keep you safe but your dumb ass insisted you were fine alone.

It was late now, around the time everyone went to bed at the hotel so you were expecting to silently creep inside, hobble to your room and take care of yourself in secret. And if anyone asked about the marks or bruises the next day, you’d just blame it on a wild night of partying. To your surprise, as you walk in the door the entirety of the hotel’s staff and residents were sitting on the floor and couches in the front room, drinking and talking by the fireplace. Of course, Charlie had everyone doing some bonding bullshit late at night. The sound of the door clicking open has everyone’s eyes looking towards you now. “Ah, shit…” Leaves your swollen lips as the crowd gasps and one by one, they all stand and approach your damaged figure. Finally, the one person you really didn’t want to see you like this comes rushing forward to get a good look at you.

Lucifer 🍎

“Oh, Satan! (Y/N), are you okay? What happened? Ohhh, my poor angel!”

Proceeds to fuss and worry over you while wearing the saddest expression :,( his poor bb

Might actually cry a little…just hurts him to see his darling all banged up.

It’s not just the physical pain he senses, it’s the emotional pain you feel too- the fear and the trauma and the stress of it all

His hands just hover all around the most damaged parts of you- fingers almost touching your eye which was now swollen shut, his thumb ghosting over your busted bottom lip

Whisks you away to his room and runs you a bath. Gets you all clean and is probably still whining and crying over you as he watches the bath water turn red with all the blood washing off you and gets you ready for bed.

He’s an emotional man, okay?

He also feels extremely guilty for not being there to protect you. Even if you bluntly told him you don’t need his protection, he feels like it’s still his fault at least a little bit.

Miiiiiiight start a silly little argument over you never leaving the hotel or his side ever again lol

“I just want to protect you, my love. Please! Stop being stubborn.”

He’ll really really baby you tho.

Like even if your legs are working fine, NOPE! Don’t move an inch. Luci will carry you anywhere you desire.

“Lucifer, I just have a black eye and some scrapes. I can walk just fine, babe.”

And he’ll just ignore you and continue to coddle you and do everything for you

For sure this man peppers very gentle, very soft and slow kisses on your tender face once you’re cleaned up and finally resting in his bed

And he for sure cries again in the morning when he wakes up and your face looks even worse

Probably even panics a bit like-

“IM TAKING YOU TO A HOSPITAL OH MY SATAN!!! MY POOR BABY WWAAAA!”

“It’s just some bruises! Luci, they always look worse before they look better, I’m fine.”

Just calm him down with some kisses and words of love

Angel Dust 🕸️

“Holy shit! What happened, babe? Oh no…this is bad. This is sooo bad! This is why we wanted to go with ya.”

Also gets very dramatic and concerned, looks so sad over your battle wounds

But of course he’s a flirt even under tough circumstances and can make a dirty joke even in the most dire situations

He’d definitely tell you you look hot asf and that you’re soooo brave~

Tries to lighten the mood a bit

“(Y/N), I wanna be the only one who gets to rough you up.” *pouts but also winks at you*

Angel has had his fair share of beatings courtesy of Valentino so he’s very good at first aid and knows tons of tricks to help with bruising, cuts, scrapes, preventing scars, relieving the pain.

He’s great at the clean up part but even better at the comfort part

Brings out all six arms to wrap you up in while you lay in his bed, cuddling up to you while offering soft kisses to the parts of you that aren’t so sore.

Angel is always down to fuck so if you’re feeling up to it, he’ll offer you some great sexual healing while being oh so careful of all your wounds and all the painful spots.

Will let you take control too, he hopes it’ll make you feel better and maybe return some of the confidence you lost from this scuffle.

He can spot a bruised ego from a mile away and he’ll do anything to get you feeling happy and secure again.

Also argues with you about never letting you go anywhere alone ever again lol he just loves you too much. If you’re gonna get jumped, he’s either gonna be there to help you out of it or he’s gonna be taking half the beating right next to you.

Reminds me of a song…

“I wanna walk with you, wherever you go to. I wanna hurt with you. Whatever you go through, I do too.” -sour switchblade by Elita

Yeah that’s Angel, just wants to be beside you no matter the circumstances

Husk 🃏

“Oh, you dummy! This is why we wanted to go with you. Oh, doll face. Who did this? You alright?”

Yeah, he’s mean sometimes so he’s gonna scold you for going out alone before the comforting starts.

Ultimately, he doesn’t pull you away to get you cleaned up or anything. Lets you decide what to do next, where to go. He just follows you and keeps a hand on you somewhere to let you know he’s here for you.

Will whip up any drink you ask for in hopes of it relieving the pain a bit

But he’s sneaky, he’s gonna ask you tons of questions about what happened, who did it, where you were, how many of them there was. Won’t give you your drink until you answer him.

Husk is plottin and schemin, wanting to get back at the assholes who did this to you. Hes thinking about all the cool, little weapons he has and what he can do with them to teach those jerks a lesson.

In the end tho, he does get more sentimental and soft spoken later while cuddled up to you in bed.

He’ll purr softly in your ear while letting his hands gently roam your body, tracing comforting circles all over your bruised skin

Will def wrap you up in his silky wings and then proceed to pour out his entire heart to you.

“I love you. I’m so glad you’re okay. You need to listen to me. I know better than you, I’ve been down here a long time. You have to be more careful. I dunno what I’d do if I lost ya, doll. You gotta stick with me, I’ll always protect ya.”

Once you fall asleep, he wanders out to the lobby to find Angel at the bar and there they talk about teaming up to get revenge on the assholes who dared to touch Husk’s little babe

The next morning, of course they’re still talking about it. You’ll have to tell these idiots to stop and just let it go bc omg they sound crazy rn they’re gonna make a mess if you let this continue

Buuuut if you kinda like them fussing over you this much, then by all means let them do their thing as you sit back and enjoy the attention

Ooooh, Husky is getting maadddd. Kinda cute when he lets a protective growl slip out while talking to Angel. Aww he loves you~

Sir Pentious 🐍

Immediate tears and full blown panic attack at the sight of your battered face.

“OH MY GOODNESSSSSS!!! My baby! My darling! Ohhhhhh, you poor thing, come here! I’ll take care of you.”

Doesn’t care that the entirety of the hotel residents are crowded around watching you two- Pentious holds you like a baby in his arms and carefully sinks to the ground with you, holding you so tight it actually kinda hurts due to all your bruises.

Cries for a while like this- goes back and forth between examining your bruises and cuts and bloody nose with his watery eyes to then burying his face in your neck as he weeps for you.

“Pen, I’m okay. Just a little banged up. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I CAN’T HANDLE IT!!! You’re too pretty to be beaten up like thisssss. Aawwwww.” And he’s crying even harder now.

And this goes on for a while until you finally decide to get up and go to your room with him to get cleaned up.

Babies the absolute fuck out of you- brings you food in bed and tries to feed it to you, gets you in the bath and refuses to let you touch anything while insisting he do all the work for you, carries you everywhere.

It’s actually so nice tho- he washes your hair for you real slow and firm as he scrubs your scalp, very carefully washes the dirt and dry blood from your skin only to reveal more bruises he hadn’t seen before, carefully applies ointment to your bloody cuts and scrapes

Listen…this man is not gonna stop crying until you are 100% healed up. Even the next morning, you wake up beside him to see his face wet with tears as he sniffles.

At least you know he really truly deeply cares for you and loves you 💚

“Oh, it’s okay, babe. I’m felling so much better today, especially since I get to start my morning in bed with you.”

And now he decides he’s gonna keep you in bed all day and continue to baby and pamper you

Keeps his tail and most of his body wrapped around you loosely all day as you watch movies and relax. Cant stop staring at your face and focusing on each blue and black bruise you wear, eyeing every cut and scrape and the split skin on your lip.

You took a beating and he thinks it’s only fair that you and him stay in bed until you’re truly feeling well enough to resume your normal daily tasks.

Of course, he has to stay with you in case you need something! Can’t leave his injured partner alone, wouldn’t dream of it!

Vox 🖥️

(I know he’s not at the hotel, pretend you just walked into V Tower instead, k?)

REVENGE REVENGE REVENGE

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?! Who? Where? When? HOW FUCKING HOW DARE THEY-“

You’ll have to cut him off or he’ll go on an entire raging tangent about revenge and eventually short circuit lol

“Voxy, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it. I just wanna get clean and go to bed.”

He slowly cools off and begins to focus more on you and your injuries, asking if you’re okay or if there’s anything he can do. Now behind closed doors, his entire attitude changes.

He’s following you into every room, watching you with an expression of intense sadness and concern, wishing he could take all your pain and give it to himself instead. He’d suffer for you if it meant seeing you happy and healthy

Sits in the bathroom in silence but keeps you company while you wash up. He might ask if you need help but also wants to give you space and make sure you feel safe

Assists you in getting dressed while making it very romantic and being very attentive. Vox will so slowly slip your pajamas onto you while letting his claws ghost over all your bruises.

Will lean in and kiss your busted lips right as your head pops through the top of your shirt, followed by a smile and probably more kisses

Listen, most of these boys are gonna become way more over protective after this incident okay? Vox is most definitely not an exception

Insists that either He’s gonna be with you every where you go from now on or he’s gonna send security with you every where you go from now on.

And no matter who is with you when you’re out in the streets, his cameras will also be watching over you.

Oh yeah, and he goes back in the cam footage and has a perfect view of the whole incident. He watches it over a few times before ordering a hit on every sinner who dared to mess with his lover.

You’ll never have to worry or look over your shoulder or worry again 😘

Alastor 🩸

Doesn’t say much or even stay long to worry about you at first.

He’s more angry and bent on revenge than anything. He’s worried about you too but he knows you’re strong and can take care of yourself.

He slips off to do some exploring and investigating to find out who did this to you

Spends maybe an hour figuring it out and then promptly goes on a murder spree to take care of all those pesky sinners who dared to lay a finger on his beloved

Okay, now that that’s out of his system, he can come back and take care of you.

Isn’t as cuddly and romantic as the others but he still babies you and refuses to let you do anything for yourself.

“Now now, darling. Just relax. I’ll have you cleaned up and feeling better in no time.”

Bathes you, dresses you, tucks you into bed all while humming slow tunes to you

Doesn’t cuddle you but sits on the bed beside you and gives your head some gentle pets

“You won’t have to worry any longer, my dove. I took care of those degenerates and I’ll never let you wander the streets of hell alone ever again.”

Will place a gentle kiss on your throbbing head before leaving you to rest.

He’s serious tho, anywhere you go he goes too. You’re never leaving his sight again ❤️‍🩹

[froggibus]

hello hello! froggi i have something rotting my brain and i would love to hear your thoughts on it, but by no means is this something you have to answer!

how do you think gojo satoru and nanami kento (and anyone else you'd like to include!) would feel about having someone pack lunches for them? like real, thought out, balanced lunches in nice containers and thermoses with little drinks and maybe notes

i can already see the confused first years, yuji and nobara gossiping about whether they're dating someone and megumi being weirded out gojo isnt just buying something like the rich boy he is

Sack Lunch - Satoru Gojo, Nanami Kento & Suguru Geto

Pairing(s): Satoru Gojo x gn! reader, Nanami Kento x gn! reader, Suguru Geto x gn! reader

Genre: fluff!

Word Count: 667 (Gojo's), 685 (Nanami's), 680 (Suguru's)

Summary: a day in your s/o's life when you pack a lunch for him

CW: established relationships!, jokes about dying/being widowed (Gojo's--though they are not necessarily married), lots of cutesy stuff, Gojo acts like a child

anon you are the first person ever to call me froggi (and i kinda love it omg)!! i have not answered a request/ask in a hot minute, but this one was too cute to pass up! not sure if you wanted headcanons for this or not, but i got really carried away :') hope this is what you wanted! also i really feel strongly about Gojo having a 90s lunchbox collection that he is very proud of! - also!! the Valentine's Poll is open if you guys have any ideas of what you want for our Valentine's event this year!! you can vote here - also thank you @l0serloki for helping me with writing nanami!!

Satoru Gojo:

“Satoru!” You shake your head at the man as he slinks past the kitchen.

He pops his head in, white hair falling over his eyes. “Yes?”

“Don’t forget your lunch.”

“You made me lunch?” He coos, surging forward to pinch your cheek, “you’re so cute.”

You roll your eyes. “No one should spend as much money on food as you do.” You chastise. “And I want to make sure you don’t only eat sweets today. I can’t have you dying on me at 30.”

“Pft, I’m gonna live forever!”

You shove the metallic Sailor Moon lunchbox into his hands. “Keep eating what I make you and you just might.”

“Aw, baby,” he practically sings, “look at you, trying to take care of me.”

He playfully ruffles your hair, but upon seeing your scowl, drags his hand down to your waist. He leans in and presses a sloppy, needy kiss to your lips. You stand on your toes just to kiss him back, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

He pulls away blushing, lunchbox in hand. “I’ll see you later! Love you lots!”

You wave to him as he heads out the door, “love you too!”

Even when he gets out to his car, the grin on his face doesn’t fade. He might have teased you a little, but only because he was so honoured that you even thought to pack him a lunch. The cute Sailor Moon lunch box that totally isn’t his is only the icing on the cake.

—

Nobara and Yuji stare at Gojo in disbelief. The man has his feet propped up on his desk, whistling a song as he peels a mandarin. A mandarin. The sight of their teacher eating an actual, real fruit is jarring. 

Yuji elbows Nobara gently, “has Gojo-sensei finally lost it?”

“He must have, have you ever seen him eat real food before?”

Gojo rolls his eyes behind his blindfold, popping a slice of the orange into his mouth. He listens to his first years gossip about him as he makes his way through the lunch you packed. You really outdid yourself with this one, he has to admit.

It’s all of the foods he likes, cutely displayed in pink containers that match the glittery exterior of the lunch box. You even packed him strawberry mochi, homemade and neatly bundled. There’s a note in there, too.

Please eat all your fruits and veggies, I don’t want to be a widow. 

Lots of love!

Y/n

Gojo stifles his laughter at your note, but he can’t stop the flush that creeps up to his blindfold. Not only did you pack him a lunch, you wrote him a note. He can’t wait to come home to you and tell you how much he loves you.

It’s when Gojo gets up to use the bathroom that Yuji makes a mad dash to peek in his lunch box. “Sailor Moon?!”

Nobara leaps to her feet, joining Itadori at the desk. “There’s a note, look.”

Fushiguro sits at his desk, softly chewing on the sandwich that you also made for him this morning. He shakes his head at his nosy peers, wondering why they care so much about their ridiculous teacher’s life.

“From y/n?!” They cry out in unison.

“Did he steal this from someone?!” Nobara exclaims.

“Did he do something to y/n’s boyfriend?!”

The pair share their conspiracies on just how Gojo ended up with a homemade lunch and a handwritten note from you, oblivious to the way Megumi snickers at them in the back. 

Finally, he can’t take it anymore. “They’re together.”

Their eyes practically pop out. “They are?!”

“Yep,” Gojo leans against the door to the classroom, smirking at his students.

“And it’s…like that?” Yuji asks quietly.

“It’s like that.” Gojo raises his eyebrows for emphasis.

All three First Years cringe, groans filling the room. Gojo smiles proudly though, already figuring out how he’s going to tell this story to you when he comes home to you.

-

Kento Nanami:

Nanami’s cheeks tinge pink as he makes his way to the door and sees you standing there. There’s a massive grin on your face and you’re holding a grey lunchbox in one hand and a coffee thermos in the other. Despite this being an everyday occurance, Nanami still isn’t used to it.

“I packed your lunch.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips, grabbing the items from your hands. He sets them on the small table just next to the door to free up his hands before immediately wrapping them around your waist. He caresses your sides gently, almost as gently as he kisses you—trying to show all his gratitude and love for you with a single gesture. 

You’re flustered when he pulls away, straightening out your clothes while you find your breath once more. You watch Nanami as he grabs his lunch and coffee from the table and pulls his keys out of his pocket, clicking open the lock on the front door.

“Oh!” You call to him just before he steps out. “There’s some extra snacks in there, just in case Yuji wants them!”

His dark eyes fill with admiration, his face falling into that soft look he saves for those closest to him. “You really are the greatest.”

You giggle, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says. “Have a great day today, dear.”

“I will!” You wave at him from the door as he walks to his car. “Oh! And please don’t forget the cutlery at work again!”

“Will do!” His words are punctuated by the closing of his car door followed by the roar of the engine.

You shut the door but the grin doesn’t fall from your face. These mornings are always a highlight for you.

—

Nanami is exhausted by the time he makes it to his lunch hour. Him and Yuji had been running around all afternoon chasing some low grade curse. The second his watch beeped to indicate lunch time, Nanami was already headed to the crosswalk to head to the park across the street, Itadori in tow.

It’s a beautiful day out, the warm sun heating the wood of the park bench just enough to keep it comfortable. He has his most recent novel open on his lap, his lunchbox on the seat next to him. Yuji sits on the other side of his lunch, happily snacking on the extra things you packed for him.

“Y/n really is the best, Nanamin.” He says through a mouthful of food, “packing you all these snacks and keeping you healthy.”

Nanami offers the boy a half grin, though he’s tempted to remind him of his table manners and how rude it is to talk with food in his mouth. He takes a sip of the coffee in his thermos—still warm from this morning—and relaxes farther into the bench. You always make it just the way he likes it, no sugar and hardly any cream. 

He reaches a hand into his lunchbox to grab the small container of carrot slices when his fingers graze something else. He closes his novel and leans over to examine the paper he’s just grabbed.

Hope you’re having a great lunch today, honey. Made with love

To the moon and back,

Y/n

He tries to hide his widening grin and reddening cheeks by pretending to cough into his arm, but only succeeds in drawing more attention to his flustered state. 

“Are you okay?”

Nanami nods, catching his breath from his fake cough. The heat starts to fade from his face. He pulls his head out of his elbow and turns to address the boy, only for his eyes to widen in horror as he realizes the First Year is clutching the note that was just in his hand.

“Woah,” Yuji’s eyes widen. “It’s like that? You really are lucky, Nanamin.”

Nanami breathes a sigh of relief, glad it was Yuji that found the note and not Nobara or Gojo. Had they found it, he would never hear the end of it.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I am lucky.”

-

Suguru Geto:

Suguru is shocked when he sees you waiting for him by the door with a small, black bag in your hand. He tilts his head at you when your eyes meet his, as if asking you what you’re doing.

“I threw together a couple of things,” you explain. “For lunch.”

He’s never been cared for like this, never had anyone to pack him a lunch. A million thoughts cross his mind. Thank you, you’re the best, how’d I get so lucky? Of course, none of that comes out.

Instead, he utters a simple, “...why?”

He cringes at the sound of his own voice, bracing himself for you to be disappointed. Luckily, you don’t offend easily and your smile never wavers.

“Well, you were complaining about Satoru only ever wanting to go to sweet shops—and that you were sick of eating lunch alone, so…”

You look down to his hands, suddenly too embarrassed to face him. It felt like a great idea at the moment, but the longer Geto looks at you, the dorkier the idea feels.

Geto closes the gap between you, grabbing your hand from under the lunch box handle. “Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips, tugging you closer so he can taste you better.

Relief floods through you at his words of gratitude. You lean into the kiss, relishing in the way he feels against you.

“I really do love you, you know?” He says softly when he pulls away, the bag now hanging from his hand.

“I know.”

He looks at you expectantly, giving you the same look he does when you’re acting like a dork or giving him attitude.

“I love you too, Suguru. Now get going! I don’t want you to be late.”

He offers you a small wave before he heads out the door, wondering exactly how he’ll return the favor when he gets home.

—

Satoru stares at Suguru from across the table in the teachers lounge. Even with the blindfold on, Geto can tell the man is eyeing the food he has spread out in front of him.

Gojo raises a finger, about to open his mouth.

“Not a word, Satoru.”

His best friend chuckles, dropping his hands in surrender, and goes back to eating his pastries out of a cute pink box. Geto goes back to his own lunch. Though you claimed you just ‘threw together a few things’, he knows that’s far from the truth.

It must have taken you an hour to prepare it all, at minimum. Not only did you make his favorite meal, but you also packed him steamed, honey coated carrots, a slice of homemade banana bread, and a small thermos of his favorite roasted rice tea.

He pops open the lid of the thermos to smell it, the familiar toasty aroma filling his senses. It smells like home—like the nights where he can’t sleep and you bring him a cup of it mixed with sweet honey.

“What’s this?” Satoru snatches the lid from the desk, flipping it upside down and letting a small piece of stationary fall out.

Suguru groans, reaching desperately across the desk for the lid, only for Satoru’s jaw to fall open. He lets the paper float back down to the desk.

“What?” He demands.

Gojo offers him a teasing grin. “Y/n and Suguru, sitting in a tree….”

Geto scowls and grabs the note before Gojo can pick it up and tease him more. Any annoyance he was feeling at the fellow special grade fades away when he sees your handwriting scrawled across the paper.

Hope Satoru doesn’t give you too much trouble today. I love you so much, can’t wait to hear about your day when you get back

All the stars in the sky,

Y/n

Satoru must not see the way Suguru’s cheeks redden at the sight of the note—or if he does, he doesn’t say anything about it. Though he teases, he couldn’t be any happier for his friend as he watches him read the words on the note over and over, a growing smile on his face.

-

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[bamboobooshark]

Logan Howlett x GN!Reader where the reader is a somewhat introverted person that has a passion for drawing, and when Logan asks to see one of their drawings, the reader shows them a drawing of a Wolverine (the animal :3)??

LOGAN HOWLETT • 🎨

“It’s nothing!” || 1.1K Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Marvel (X-Men)

Author’s Note: Okay this is probably one of the CUTEST requests I have ever gotten! I’m also an introverted artist, so this might be somewhat self indulgent… Anyway! Thank you so, so much for the idea anon! I love it <3

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CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader is able-bodied, Reader is pretty shy but not excessively, Logan drives a truck instead of a motorcycle in this fic, use of the pet names bub and darling, speeding in a car (no harmful intent/consequences).

Logan knocks on the doorframe with a soft smile on his face. “Hey, bub,” he greets before jingling his car keys and raising a brow. “Wanna head to the book store with me? I don’t got anything else to do today. I thought it’d be nice to take you out somewhere,” he proposes in a knowing tone. You nod your head yes—of course you agree to go! He’s known you too well for too long. You raise your eyebrows and let out a low whistle before turning to your bedside table. “Let me grab something really quick,” you tell him. He hums in acknowledgment while walking away from the door. “I’ll go get the truck started. The weather out there isn’t the best right now,” he calls out to you before the door shuts behind him. You’re quick to pick up your bag and pack it with whatever you need, including your sketchbook and some materials to draw. You smile to yourself as you get an idea of what to draw while you and Logan relax at the bookstore. You zip up your bag and walk down the hall, then outside to Logan’s truck.

“Got everything?” he asks. You nod your head and mumble a soft “yep,” the hum of the engine almost silencing your voice. Logan pulls the stick and reverses the vehicle while looking over his shoulder. You snicker, and the man groans. “What’s so funny? Did I do somethin’ stupid?” he questions while shifting to drive. You shake your head while covering your mouth. “You always look behind you when you pull out as if anyone lives close to us,” you explain in a half-sigh, half-laugh. Logan chuckles softly as he begins to make his way to the bookstore. “Pfft. Alright. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t hit any trees. This baby might be paid off, but I plan on keeping her as long as I can,” he tells you. You exhale deeply as you cross your arms to your chest.

After a few minutes of somewhat awkward silence, you state the obvious: “It’s way too quiet in here.” Logan hums in agreement as he gently taps the leather of the steering wheel. You pick up your bag from the floor of the truck, unzip it, and pull out your small CD holder. “I’ve got a few burned CDs with our favorite songs. What are you in the mood for?” you ask sweetly. The mutant looks at you and shakes his head before focusing his attention on the road once more. “Oh, please. You should know this by now,” he teases. You roll your eyes at him and pick the one that has “LOGAN’S ‘DAD’ ROCK” written in sharpie. You put it in the player and go through the songs before he pushes your hand away. “Ah, ah. No. We’re listening to this,” he states in a slightly stern tone. It’s one of his favorite songs that you catch him singing or humming while you make dinner for him: Self Esteem by The Offspring. You lift your hands up to your chest in defense while widening your eyes. “Alright, old man. We’ll listen to it,” you groan despite enjoying the song yourself. You and Logan both get into the lyrics and find yourself relishing in the moment. The windows are down, he’s driving almost 10 over with barely any other cars on the road, the music is blasting, and the wind in your face feels so amazing.

Eventually the two of you arrive at the large bookstore. You pop the CD out of the player and put it back in the case as Logan parks and turns off the truck. He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door for you as you finish zipping up your bag. “Thank you, kind sir,” you say in a fancy accent. He smiles at you as you take his hand to step out. “But of course, darling,” he says in an equal manner. The two of you share a snicker before approaching the double doors of the bookstore. You’re both hit with the memory-filled atmosphere of the shop; the scent of wood, carpet, and fresh paper, the soft chatter scattered around, and the sound of clinking dishes at the café. Logan releases a deep sigh before his eyes set on you. “I’ve got a bit of extra money,” he says in a bit of a whisper. You look at him with a wide smile, grabbing onto his hand tightly as he walks with you towards the café. “How ‘bout you go find us a spot, bub?” he asks as the both of you enter the line. You nod softly while turning to go find somewhere to sit. You look around carefully, anxiously sticking to Logan’s side until you find a cozy corner area. Once your gaze settles on it, you make a plan in your head on how to get there without moving behind people, tripping, or being in someone’s way. You carefully make your way over and sit down. Logan looks over at you and shoots you a half smirk as you give him a thumbs up.

About five minutes later, your scruffy partner comes over holding a sweet treat in two waxy-looking brown bags. “Got us a little treat. Hope ya’ like it,” he says. He sits next to you and sets your bag in front of you before opening his own. He got the two of you delicious, glazed croissants. You guys have been getting them for the longest time, despite Logan saying he’ll surprise you with whatever he orders for you. You look at him and smile sweetly. “Awe! Thank you, Logan. I really do appreciate when you get me sweet things like this,” you slightly ramble. He hums in acknowledgment before lifting your hand to kiss it, causing you to blush. He chuckled as he felt your flesh warm and saw the way you froze up.

Once the croissants were long gone and thoroughly enjoyed, Logan sat next to you while scrolling through his phone. You, on the other hand, were drawing a little something for your partner. You hummed softly as your pencil skipped across the page to create a picture. Logan raised his brow suspiciously upon seeing your goofy smile. “What’re you drawin’ there, bub?” he asks as he sets his phone on the table. You shrug and chuckle softly. “It’s nothing! I promise,” you tell him shyly. He doesn’t falter and tilts your sketchbook down. “Let me see this,” he mumbles as he looks down at it. “What is that thing?” he asks with furrowed brows. His eyes look to you in search of an answer, and you fidget with your hands. “It’s a—a wolverine,” you whisper. He fixes his posture before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer, and kissing the top of your head. “I love it, bub,” he whispers in return. You blush once again as he displays his affection for you in the comfy corner of the café.

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀DETECTIVE AND MURDERER IN HELL . —

#pairing : alastor x gn reader. #cw : may include adult content. enemies to lovers trope. #summary : you were a detective when you were a human! but uh oh, you died.. and you meet the target that you were on to before your death? #note : I feel bad for not posting for so long, here's a little sneak peek at what I'm working on! i received this prompt from an anon in my inbox and do i love it very much. i have so many ideas for this fic, it'll be my first ever long fic on this blog! i'll reply to the ask once I'm done with the fic :3

“my, isn’t it my favorite detective!” you hear a static, loud voice speak from behind you. you quirk a brow, slowly turning your head to see a demon that somehow resembles a deer. a red deer, that is. he wears this wide smile that stretches from ear to ear, his whole attire so formal it makes you question if you’re underdressed. he holds a cane in his hands; it looks like a speaker that he got custom-made. confusion bubbles inside of you, and multiple questions float across your mind. who is this man, that so happens to know what you work as when you were still alive?

and, out of all demons, why are you his favorite?

“I’m sorry, but have we met?” you turn your body to face him fully, your eyes scanning from head to toe wondering if it’s just a fuzzy memory of yours. the demon steps closer to you, a sense of uneasiness instantly rushes through your veins. you shudder suddenly..

“aha, of course we have! you were even so interested in me back when we were alive!” his words only made your confusion grow. you, being interested in someone? in what way? your work has never allowed you any extra space to catch feelings for anyone around you, so surely it’s not a crush unless you’ve misunderstood. It’s like he read your thoughts, he quickly adds in with a light chuckle.

“constantly trying to gather information about me, pinpointing my location, guessing my next move. fun times! I truly enjoyed watching you do so.” something clicked in your head. so this demon was presumably a target of yours before he died, but how could you know exactly which? you had so many targets, so many psychopaths you had to track down and lock them up for good. though, something about his deer features brings a blurry memory of a specific target that you currently can’t quite put a name to his face.

everyone in the hotel watches your interaction with the red demon quietly. the air is tense, nobody dared to breathe any harder than they are now. charlie is the most anxious one out of everyone in the room; angel is starting to doubt whether he should’ve brought you back to the hotel. but, surely, the manager is smarter than to kill off someone interested in staying, no?

“care to remind me which one are you?” your hands instinctively hide themselves in your pockets as a habit. your tone isn’t as friendly as it was when you spoke to the others, and the demon is loving the reaction he’s getting from you.

“gladly, my dear friend! i’d say my case was the one you spent the most time on,” you suddenly feel a strong tug on your hand before realizing that you’re shaking hands with the demon. his smile widens as you grow more uncomfortable. “the name’s alastor! pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure! I was there to witness your lovely slash boring death,”

you pull your hand back from his grasp, face scrunching at the mention of your death. he witnessed your death? what is he hinting? Is he trying to tell you that it was he who took the life of yours?

“I watched as you were murdered by one petty man i convinced, it was one of the most boring deaths i’ve ever seen! but dear, was i disappointed that you’ll never be able to put a close to my case when i thought you’d do better at fighting back.” you freeze suddenly, blood running cold from your face as he carries on.

“I was the last target you had before dying, it was a joy toying with you like a little mouse.”

so that’s what all the familiarity you felt was. his demeanor and personality, all that was jotted down in the notebook you had for research. he matches everything you wrote; you remember word by word from the number of times you’ve reread it, the times at night when you’re desperate to finally put the case to a stop. you feel anger and disgust pound in your chest, feet stepping back a couple of times.

he’s the reason why you died. you stare at his mocking smile, his expression that clearly shows his enjoyment while watching your reaction. a growl bubbles from your chest, and you see the spider demon hesitantly approach you. he stays beside you, rubbing his arm nervously while trying to think of a reason to pull you away from this scene.

“I died because of you,” you breathe out, body shaking not from fear but anger and realization. you suddenly leap forward when angel is about to reach out for your arm, your fingers curl tightly around the collar of alastor’s shirt. his smile only widens at your actions, a light hum that slides out so smoothly and audibly. “and it was purely for fun?” it’s even possible to notice every small feature you have on your face from how close you’ve pulled his face to yours. you earn a mere shrug from the demon.

“woah! babes, hey, calm down would’ja? let’s head somewhere else.” you feel a tug at your arm, but you don’t budge. you want to hurt this demon, to beat him until he’s curled up into a ball on the ground, but you can’t. there’s something holding you back, something telling you to not go any further than what you’re currently doing. he reeks of danger and mystery, hell knows what would he do to you if you were to cross his line. with another growl, you harshly push him away and he stumbles back a few steps with a small ‘oh!’.

angel sees this and takes the chance to quickly drag you away from the scene, and you let him. Everyone in the hall watches angel drag you all the way to the kitchen until alastor is out of your sight. his clawed fingers release your arm, a concerned gaze fixated on your slumping figure as you let out a deep sigh while pressing your face onto the surface of your palms.

now, you’ll really have to think it through whether you want to stay in this hotel. having so many things to take in so suddenly messes up your thoughts, something you’re unfamiliar with considering how you’re always sharp and organized.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Everything Falls Into Place

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: fluff, worrying about not being able to adopt a child, anxiety

Request by anon: Aww if steve and vixen settle down imagine them fostering or adopting a child. In their words "adoption helps a kid"

Summary: You and Steve start the process of adopting a child. There are a lot of steps that you have to go through, including a background check. You're worried about your past as Vixen is finally going to bite you in the ass. This is it. This is the other shoe you've been waiting for to drop.

Cat and Mouse Masterlist

Squares Filled: social worker au (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

“What is taking her so long?” you sigh impatiently.

“She’s only been gone five minutes. Calm down,” Steve chuckles from beside you. Steve looks over at you to see you bouncing your leg from how nervous you are. You’re wringing your fingers together to keep yourself from biting your nails. “Y/N, you’re acting like a criminal who just got caught. Take a deep breath.”

“Steve, this woman is the decider on whether or not we have a child. Forgive me if I’m a little anxious.”

Your social worker, Amy, takes another ten minutes before she’s back in the office, and you let out a relieved sigh that she hasn’t kicked you out… yet.

“I am so sorry. We’re extremely backed up,” she says and takes a seat across from you.

“It’s no problem,” Steve smiles politely.

“So, you’re looking to adopt a child? It’s a big responsibility.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ve actually been wanting this for a while now.”

“Why now? Why not then?”

You and Steve look at each other in thought. Maybe it’s because you two were out fighting in wars you had no business being in. Maybe it’s because you finally came face to face with Zemo again after so many years of being away from him, and you almost killed him. Maybe it’s because even though you think you’re ready to be parents… you’re actually not.

“We felt like the timing wasn’t right,” Steve finally answers and peels his eyes away from you.

“Have you always wanted to have children?”

“Yes, I have,” Steve answers honestly. “For as long as I could remember.”

“And you?” Amy asks.

“In the beginning, yes. I mean, when I was a lot younger. Some shit happened to me and I didn’t allow myself to feel that way until recently. Maybe in the last couple of years? I can’t have children biologically, but I do want one.”

“I never know how to ask this question despite how many years I’ve been doing this, but what kind of parents would you two be?”

“I can’t say for sure. How can anyone know for sure? We’ve never taken care of a child before. There will be obstacles that we might not know how to get over but I can tell you one thing. We will do our very best to make sure this child is loved, safe, and raised to be the best person they can be.”

“That’s a good answer,” Amy smiles and writes in her notebook. Steve rubs his thumb on the back of your hand comfortingly. “This is going to be a long process but I have confidence that it will go by quicker than you think.” She hands over a piece of paper to Steve. “Here is a list of everything I will be needing by the end of this week. Legal papers. You know how it goes. Next will be an extensive background screening for everyone living in the adoptive household. After that will be the in-home interview and inspection of the home.”

You don’t hear anything past background screening. What if they find out about Vixen? They won’t want to give you a child when they figure out how many people you’ve killed. What if they come for the home inspection and find your room of weapons? You’re not getting a kid.

“Okay,” you squeak out.

Steve notices your panic but decides not to say anything about it until you two leave the office building.

“What’s going on?”

“What if they find out about Vixen? The Winter Soldier? My time in Hydra?”

“They won’t--”

“What if they do?” you cut him off. “What if they don’t see me fit to be a mother? What about the guns and shit we have at the house? They’re not going to allow us to be parents with all that there.”

“Baby, you need to calm down. We’re going to do fine.”

His words go in through one ear and out the other. You hear him talk but you’re not listening to a word he’s saying. When you get home, you immediately head to the room with all your weapons and begin taking them off the wall. If you’re going to make this house suitable for a child, you have to make sure it’s safe for one.

“Y/N, it’s going to be fine.”

“No, it’s not. We live in a state where it’s illegal to carry outside your home. We aren’t even allowed to have this many weapons in the house.”

Steve knows you have to do this in order to make yourself feel better. He leaves you to box the weapons while he gets his phone out of his pocket. He calls Bucky, Sam, and Nat to come over because he thinks having them here is going to help you. He has always been the more level-headed one in the relationship which is why he’s being so calm about this. He has faith that everything is going to work out just fine.

“How long has she been like this?” Nat asks when she gets there.

“Since we left the social worker.” They know you and Steve have wanted a child for a while now. “Nothing I say matters.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Natasha says and walks into the room. “You doing okay?”

“No, I’m not. I have to get these weapons out of here. Can you keep them for a while?”

“Sure. You’re going to do just fine. If anyone deserves a kid, it’s you two.”

“No, it’s not okay. Amy is going to come in here and see all these weapons and she is not going to give us a child. This isn’t safe for one. Or she will know I’m Vixen and think wow, a mass murderer assassin doesn’t deserve a kid. Or she’ll know about Bucky, Thanos, and everything else we have done in our lives.”

“Would it help if we helped you?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Steve help clear out the room until it’s bare. This is the room you’re going to use for the nursery. You don’t have any supplies since you’re not sure when you’re going to be getting a kid, so you’ll keep it bare for now. Bucky and Nat take the weapons to hold onto until this whole thing blows over. Your house has a basement that you can put them into only until after the inspections are done.

On the day of the interview and home inspection, you have cookies baking in the oven to give the home a sweet smell. You have been cleaning all day to ease your worries. Steve is nervous as hell but less than you are.

“I think this is the tenth time you fluffed that pillow.”

“It has to be perfect.”

“It is. You are. It’s going to be fine.”

“I know. It’s going to be great,” you smile. Amy shows up on the dot, and you let her in eagerly. “Welcome to our home. It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you. Wow, smells good in here.”

“I have cookies that just left the oven. Would you like one?”

“No, thank you. I have two more visits to do. Not to sound rude but I’d like to get started right away.”

“Of course.”

You two lead her to the living room and sit across from her. Steve reaches for your hand and pulls it into his lap.

“To start with, why don’t you two tell me what you two do for a living?”

“We are employed with Stark Industries,” Steve says. Happy sends money to every Avenger on behalf of Tony. You don’t need a job when your job is saving people who need it. Does she not know you two are Avengers? “We make about two hundred thousand each every year.”

“Do you enjoy your work?”

“We love it. I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

“What are some of your hobbies?” Amy asks you.

“I love to sew. I love making my own clothes. I actually made my own wedding dress. It brings me peace whenever it’s just me, a needle, and some fabric.”

“And you?” Amy asks Steve while writing in her notebook.

“I like to draw, sometimes. I’ve been practicing more these days. I like to fish. We have a cabin up north that we like to go to when the weather is nice.”

“Tell me about your marriage, and how your relationship is with your significant other.”

You look at Steve and smile lovingly at him.

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for this man. He has saved me in ways you can’t possibly imagine. He’s my best friend. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but there is nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

“She said it right,” Steve chuckles. “I love her with all of my being. Our marriage has been nothing but great for these past few years. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“That’s sweet,” Amy smiles and writes. “Tell me about your relationship with your parents.”

“Both our parents are dead. We don’t have any living relatives,” you answer. 

“To get with the technical questions, why do you want to adopt?”

“I’ve mentioned this before but I’m sterile. I can’t have children on my own. I know Steve wants a family. This is the only way I know how to give it to him. We don’t want to do fostering or a surrogate. We feel like it’s more our style to adopt.”

“What she said,” Steve chuckles.

“If granted the opportunity to adopt, what are your hopes for your child?”

“That they’re a good person,” Steve answers. “That they’ll see someone who needs help and will want to do that for them. Who will love unconditionally.”

“Alright,” Amy writes. “This is everybody’s least favorite section. I’ve done your background checks.” Your heart drops. This is it. This is where she tells you that you can’t adopt. “Now my main concern is your work with Hydra. You are the Vixen.”

“Were,” you correct. “I’m not that person anymore. Yes, I have done a lot of bad things in my life. Things you can’t possibly imagine. That isn’t who I am now. I have healed from that part of me. I got help. I made amends. I got Hydra out of my head. I don’t associate myself with those people anymore.”

“What about Bucky?”

“Bucky is healed, as well,” Steve takes over. “He went to Wakanda and underwent the same thing she did. They’re both trying to move on from their past.”

“That’s all it is, Amy. It’s my past. It’s not my present and it sure as hell isn’t going to be my future.”

Amy goes through more routine questions before she gets ready for the house inspection. You tell her the plans you have for the empty room which will be the nursery. She doesn't say much but she does write a lot of stuff down.

“Thank you for coming,” you say when she is done.

“I’ll be touch.”

As soon as the front door is closed, your smile is lost.

“God, we’re not going to get a kid. Did you see the look on her face when she mentioned Vixen? She knows I’ve killed before. What person would want me to be a mother?”

Steve pulls you close and lets you vent. “We won’t know more for a while. Let’s just try and keep a calm head. Even if she says no, we can try other avenues. We will be parents. You’d be a loving mother.”

And wait you did. For two long weeks. You thought that was their way of telling you that you weren't going to have a kid. Until your phone rang and changed your entire life.

“Hello?” you answer frantically.

“Hi, Y/N? I have some news regarding your adoption application.” You and Steve wait with held breaths. “I am very happy to say you’ve been approved. I can’t wait to work with you.”

“We can get a kid?” you ask tearfully.

“That’s the first part of the process. We have sent in your application to mothers who are looking to put their children up for adoption. If and when they pick you, I will call with the next steps.”

“Thank you so much.” You cry when she hangs up. “We’re getting a kid.”

Steve pulls you in and kisses the top of your head emotionally. You have to wait for a birth mother to pick you so until then, you just have to wait. Most couples wait months or even years to get called, but you get a call from Amy only a couple of days later with a date set to meet a birth mother who chose your application among a few others. You’re nervous as hell because what if she doesn’t pick you? What if she hates you as soon as she meets you?

You get to the office where the meetings are held and wait for Amy and the birth mother to come. Her name is Jessica and she is too young to be having a kid. She is only twenty-three and she doesn't want kids at this age. Maybe when she is older but definitely not now.

Jessica walks in and seems to be about six months pregnant. She just came back from meeting a potential couple, so you straighten up and smooth down your skirt to make yourself look more presentable.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you two. My name is Jessica.”

“Y/N and this is my husband, Steve. Thank you for seeing us.”

“Yeah, I was intrigued when I read about your hobbies and your work with Stark Industries. Did you know Tony?”

“Uh, yeah.” You look at Steve and have a silent conversation through your eyes. If she is going to pick you, she should know exactly who you are. “I hope this doesn’t affect us negatively but he’s Captain America and I’m… Vixen.”

It takes Jessica all of five seconds before she starts crying. This is it. This is where she runs for the hills and gets you blacklisted from ever adopting a child.

“Captain America saved my life,” she sniffles. “I was visiting a friend in Sokovia when Ultron happened. You saved me.” She turns to Amy and wipes her eyes. “I don’t want to see anyone else.” She looks at you with a teary smile. “I can’t think of anyone better to care for my child than you two.”

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Amy smiles and leaves the room.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You’re getting a kid. You’re getting a kid. You’re finally able to start your own family.

x

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[camillelespanayesbtch]

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Door Step (18+)

Content: Brief smut, swearing, typical (and a-typical) Camille stuff

Word Count: 4098

Author's Note: I rushed the end, I'm sorry. I just didn't have the motivation :( I do have an idea for a series where Camille is a vampire if anyone is interested please send an anon!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Sorry it took so long, Camille. Two of the Starbucks didn’t have the shots you liked, so I had to drive to the other side of town,” you say even though the excuses meant nothing to Camille, but they calmed the anxiety that had been bubbling under the surface. That anxiety bubbled as you drove from store to store just to get her fucking coconut milk coffee with a double shot of the best espresso available from that corporation. You set the takeout cup down and only then do you realize you should have fixed something- the one mistake you’d made other than being late with her coffee.

Camille eyes the take-out cup, turning it around then looks at you, “They spelled my name wrong. It’s C-A-M-I-L-L-E, not fucking C-A-M-E-E. You’re still relatively new, I’ll let it slide this time but don’t make a habit of it.” She picks it up and starts to drink it, leaning back in her desk chair as she watches you, she enjoyed watching you stew over the little things.

“It’s not my fault they’re fucking stupid. They’re Starbucks baristas, not Harvard educated people,” you reply, checking your tablet for what Camille had going on that day and you too.

Camille snorts and shakes her head, “Don’t you get it, Yn? You work for me. Ergo, it means that you have to make sure things go well. Ergo, you have to ensure that the fucking Starbucks barista spells my fucking name correctly, got it?” She smiles at the end although it was one of her subdued anger smiles that lets you know if you piss her off again, you’ll be her glorified footstool for the rest of the day. You did make such a wonderful stool too, back straight and silent, just the way she likes you.

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your cheeks turning pink, “Yes, Camille. I’ll remember that for next time.” You would make sure that you did, whether it be making a note of it in your calendar or on the order itself- No, you couldn’t do that because then Camille would know that you were imperfect, and she always wanted perfection in every aspect of her life which now included you. You, her assistant, and according to the NDA you filled out with heated cheeks, her pretty little whore.

“Good,” she drinks another mouthful of her coffee before returning it to her desk, scrolling through her phone before her eyes meet yours. “This job isn’t easy, okay? But I need you to want this. I need you to want this job and everything it entails.” She had her fair share of assistants, and her last lot coupled up and it was the most pathetic little display she’d ever seen in her life. They fell in love with each other? Just as she finished paying off both their student loans? What a fucking coincidence. And Camille L’espanaye doesn’t believe in coincidences.

“I know. I know, and I do want this.” You meet her gaze, she always looked so perfect; the slightest hint of blue to the inner corner of her eyes, the sharp eyeliner that isn’t exaggerated, the soft fullness to her eyelashes, and her eyes themselves- a grey green that reminded you of aged jade, expensive, elite, rare, everything that Camille is. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this job and everything it entails.” You hadn’t been intimate with her until the third day of your new position, and she made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t going to touch you unless you had earned it and you hadn’t earned it yet. You had a feeling in your gut that you were never going to earn being fucked by her unless she was just going to use your body to get off herself.

Camille chuckles and shakes her head before tilting her head slightly as she drags her eyes over you, “Please. You’re here because I’m paying off your student loans. What were you trying to graduate with again? A master’s in psychology… Now look at you. Oh, you’d surely make such an interesting research paper on yourself, don’t you think? An assistant and a whore. You don’t fool me, Yn.” She rolls her eyes; you were just another nobody after her money so you didn’t have to pay off your own student debt and thought that selling your body to her would make it happen faster. She knew she was attractive, hot, sexy, so who wouldn’t want a chance to be touched by her? To even be close to the one and only Camille L’espanaye. She’d had people stumbling over themselves in the street trying to get to her to even say hi and then be ignored. You weren’t special.

Her words stung and you knew that was her intention; it was either this job or your degree, and being a waitress wasn’t cutting the loan repayments or even being close to covering rent. So, now you sell your body to your boss and do the dirty work for her too. The corner of your mouth twitches slightly in a brief smirk, “Oh Camille, you say that like you don’t enjoy when I eat you out under your desk.” You pout, “I’m wounded.” If you closed your eyes and thought about those times, you could still taste her on your tongue, a little tangy but mostly sweet with the slightest musk, and you would lap up every drop too just to savor her. 

The silver-haired woman looks slightly taken aback by what you’d just said, her tan cheeks taking on the slightest pink hue to them, almost matching the lipstick she often painted her lips with. “I enjoy getting off, the person that does it doesn’t matter to me. You keep talking to me like this, and I’ll find someone who won’t run their pretty little mouth as much as you.” She crosses her legs and drinks another mouthful of her coffee, her pupils dilating as she remembers how eager you were to eat her out the first time- the sparkle in your eyes, the devotion you looked up at her with, it was that moment that she knew you were just a stray dog that needed just a little more training. The first time you only managed to make her cum once with your mouth before you got sloppy because it was aching too much, your fingers finished her off, but she was pissed and told you to get better. How did you get better? Cleaning her heels and boots with your tongue until they showed her reflection, she didn’t realize how wet that made you until she heard you in the bathroom masturbating.

“I’m sure you enjoy it more than you’re letting on, Camille,” You head back over to the couch, leaning back against it and looking through the tablet again. This little device was the holy grail of information, and if you lost it, Camille would have your head on a platinum Cartier plate. She couldn’t afford to have the information you were dealing with slip into the hands of the wrong person because then it’d make her look bad and there’s one thing that’s consistent with her- she always looks really fucking good.

Camille narrows her eyes at you, it’d be so fucking easy for her to slap you, to hit you, choke you even- leave welts on your skin from the claw marks her nails leave, but she doesn’t. She wants to, God does she want to see your pretty skin marked up because of her, hear the way you whine and moan and hiss as she does, then as she touches each one as a reminder of what had happened. She takes a breath and exhales slowly like she’d seen on those shitty mindfulness videos that circulate around. She didn’t like your cockiness, only she was allowed to be that cocky. Only her. “Did you get the information on Victorine like I asked?”

“Of course I did, Camille,” you put the tablet to the side before looking through your bag, you’d had a number of documents printed and stapled together so she didn’t have to deal with the same mess of papers you had. You pull them out of your bag before heading over to her.

“Took you long enough. I require things I ask of you in a timely manner, Yn. Not at your earliest convenience. Mine.” She takes the papers from you and flicks through them, her eyes quickly scanning the pages, her lip twitching, “Is this it? That’s all you got? How am I supposed to nail her down with this shit?” Camille tosses the documents, the pages fluttering through the air before hitting the ground in front of her desk. Couldn’t you do one fucking thing right today?

You chew your bottom lip, stopping yourself from peeling a piece of skin from it like you had a nasty habit of doing, “That was all I could find-“ Your cheeks flush at her unimpressed stare, butterflies in your stomach much like the papers, they float around before hitting the bottom with a dull thud. “I’ll go look again, Camille.” How could you have been so stupid as to think that this would be enough? You’re a smart woman, you should have known better than to hand her some falsified documents that could be brushed under the rug fairly quickly. Try harder. Do better.

“Yes, you will go look again, Gina.” She drinks some more coffee before deciding that she’s had enough, tossing it in the bin then screwing her nose up when the lid pops off and spills coffee into it. “We both know this woman is killing innocent animals left right and center. And we both know that the only animals that deserve to die are men,” she looks at you and smiles, “So, go find me something more useful than pages of words.” Camille drums her nails against the desk, tilting her head slightly as she watches the little cogs turn in your head- she wondered if there was a little hamster or other vermin running around.

“Yes, Camille, I agree with you- I’ll keep looking,” you pick the documents up and go back to the couch to look again. There were multiple avenues that you had access to, seeing things you never wanted to see again, reading things you never wanted to, and oh- “I found a feed from the room they do the surgery in. Victorine front and center along with her wife. Nobody likes seeing animals getting hurt.” The video made you feel ill, incredibly so, so you look away before what little breakfast you had resurfaced.

Her head shoots up from her phone, her eyes twinkling with unbridled glee, “Oh? Video footage? Do show me, puppy.” She holds her hand out expectantly, taking the tablet from you once you place it in her outstretched hand. And like the obedient little doggy you are, you gently place it in her hand, being careful to not catch her acrylic nails which so often dug so deliciously into your scalp.

“She’s right there helping her wife with the surgery, that’s damning enough, isn’t it?” You hoped it was anyway- You didn’t really understand Camille’s hatred towards her siblings, in the sense that outside of the awful things they were doing you couldn’t see it as your run-of-the-mill sibling hatred, the feeling she had- That was barely contained rage, disgust, like if she could, she would kill the woman and spit on her grave, but that was beneath Camille, she’d much rather have you do the dirty work instead. You watch her reaction to the video, the video you found, and hoped it would satisfy her after screwing up with the written documents. But you should know by now, Camille is rarely satisfied.

“There’s no audio. It’s okay, but it could be better,” she pouts, restarting the video to watch her half-sister butcher a poor chimpanzee. While she was partially doing this for purely selfish reasons, she couldn’t help but feel bad for the animals being experimented on and she knew once she screwed her half-sister over, they would be free from being used as guinea pigs for the stupid heart mesh. Good idea in theory, but Victorine was stupid.

You take an unsteady breath, picking at your fingers behind your back so the silver haired beauty wouldn’t notice, “The audio version is bound to be out there somewhere. It’ll just take some time to find it.” You weren’t sure about that actually, for all you knew, that was the only video footage of the brutality. You wonder if Camille knew you were bluffing about that, she’s a smart woman, she’d know.

“Usually, surveillance videos don’t have any audio, smarty pants,” she remarks, eyes still glued to the screen, the faintest hint of a smile on her face as she replays the video. Even without the audio, Victorine was fucked. F-U-C-K-E-D.

“Usually, scientists record their experiments in more ways than one, so, there’s bound to be a version with audio out there somewhere.” You take the tablet back, Camille almost pouting when you do. You knew this would be good enough for now, it could be explained away as an accident- But how do you accidentally cut open a chimpanzee and force your shitty heart mesh around its heart just to prove that your product works when you know it doesn’t.

Camille nods and looks at you, “I like the way you think. You’re not afraid of anything, are you?” She needed someone fearless to be able to do this work, fear inhibits the ability to find the dirtiest of information and she couldn’t have that. Not in her line of work, your line of work. You were going to be her dog with a bone, a nose for sniffing out the filthiest information, and the ability to spin it almost as good as she does.

Your cheeks color and you look at the ground before meeting her penetrating gaze, “Fear stops you from doing things and taking what you deserve. I wouldn’t be here if I let fear get the best of me.” You remember applying for an interview and shaking your head because you really didn’t have much to offer her at all- you had heard rumors about what she asked of her assistants, but you didn’t take them to be true. She had stopped you before you sat down, inspected you like you were a piece of meat, and you couldn’t deny how hot it made you. When you read through the NDA, your cheeks had burned, and you squirmed in your seat much to Camille’s amusement.

The corner of her lip turns up in a smirk as she sits back, raising a brow, “You’re scared of me.” She tilts her head slightly and runs her eyes slowly down your body, while the uniform she chose left too much to the imagination, she loved how it made you look. Like you were going to her to be taught something, and you were. She was your teacher, and you were her good little student, doe-eyed and expectant.

You feel your cheeks take on more color, they were bound to be a deep red by now, and you hated yourself for the reaction. You weren’t scared of her, right? Your heart rate did increase when you were around her, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, but that wasn’t fear? Unless you misunderstood those reactions and were actually experiencing bouts of anxiety when around her. “Why would I be scared of you?”

“Because I’m fucking terrifying, look at me,” she gestures to herself, she didn’t have to sell herself to you because she knew the look in your eyes, the desire, the want, the lust. Yet you were still timid about showing it, not always, but most of the time. There was just the faintest flicker of fear in your eyes, she could see it even if you didn’t want to admit it. It made her hot.

You let out a bit of a chuckle, shaking your head, “You’re hot and intimidating, Camille, but not terrifying.” It didn’t take much for her to intimidate you, she could back you up against the wall and your breath would catch in your throat before a burning heat settled itself between your legs, your lips parted, and pupils blown. Maybe that was fear. And fear does strange things to your body when it involves one Camille L’espanaye.

“That’s because you haven’t seen me,” she smirks, running her tongue over her upper teeth much like an awaiting lion does when it sees prey. “You’ll see,” it was a promise, one way or another you would see her, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on you when you do. When you do realize just how fucking scary she can be, then she’ll fuck every single thought out of that head of yours until you’re a pretty little doll for her.

“I can’t wait then,” you smile despite the brief flicker of anxiety that goes through you at her look, you didn’t mind being treated like a doll but this look was different, it made your breath catch in the back of your throat, and made you rub your thighs together briefly, subtly in hopes she would notice but of course she does- she always does. “You’d be surprised what I find attractive, Camille.”

“Oh?” Her smile grows and somehow her teeth seem sharper than before, she loved where this is going and it excited her deeply, “We have yet to talk about hard and soft limits. I know we’ve already fucked, but limits were never discussed.” She wasn’t a freak that didn’t respect those things, she took them seriously and would respect you outside of the bedroom while she was disrespecting your perfect body in the bedroom. She absolutely loved the sounds you made and how you looked with pretty bruises and bite marks all over.

“You’d listen to that?” You ask in disbelief before apologizing, she hadn’t indicated that she wouldn’t listen to you in bed, in fact when you’ve asked her to slow down previously, she has- same with when you asked her to stop. She was ruthless but she wasn’t a monster. You take a breath, taking the pad of paper on her desk and pen before writing them down, “You’re not a freak, are you?” You look at her, “Not into that piss or crap stuff because I’ll quit right now if you are.”

Camille screws her nose up in disgust, offended you’d even ask her such a thing- she’s a classy woman, not some bottom-feeder, “Ew, fuck no.” She gags, getting herself a coconut water to wash down the bad taste you’d put in her mouth, “I just want to know what you like so when you’re not servicing me, I can make sure you’re having fun too.” Her eyes follow every stroke of the pen, the longer the list of your green-light things grows, the more the fire builds in her stomach, the stronger the electricity surges through her veins.

“Good,” you hand the list over to her, your cheeks coloring when you see a wolfish grin. “I think you’ll be surprised the extent of things I find enjoyable.” You bite back a squeak when she points to the ground in front of her seat. You quickly move into position, your fingers itching to touch her creamy thighs, “Please-“

“Hm?” She looks at you over the top of the list you just wrote for her, “Please what? You can’t already be that desperate.” She looks back at the list, “Then again, the list does just scream desperate little slut. I wonder if I can get a stamp made just for you, stamp it right on your forehead so you see it every time you look in the mirror.” She chuckles at her idea, rather pleased with herself. “Yes, I think you’ll find a place that makes custom stamps so I can have one. Be a good little puppy and do that for me, hm?” Camille reaches down to pat your head, her hand moving down to stroke your cheek after, thoroughly enjoying the way you melt into her touch.

“A- A stamp? I suppose I could do that. Do you want me to do it now? I-“ You grab your tablet to start looking, ignoring the pain starting to grow in your knees the longer your kneeling on the tile flooring of her office. You quickly find a place that makes custom stamps, holding up a selection of colors up to her so she could pick, “I think the red is nice.”

Camille hums, “It would be more bold, wouldn’t it? Harder to hide, and more likely to stain, how fun.” She grins and nods for you to get on with it before focusing back on reading through your list of kinks.

“Red,” you repeat quietly before looking back at your tablet and order the stamp, your cheeks starting to burn at the text she wanted on it. Your mind starts to wonder about what the people who were in charge of making these custom stamps would think of this one, but they were also likely to have received far worse than this. You clear your throat, “I’ve ordered it. Estimated time is two weeks.”

“Always so quick to do what I ask of you,” she smiles, putting the paper on her desk before stroking your cheek, her hand moving down to cup your jaw and tilt your head up. She runs her thumb lightly under your bottom lip as her eyes stare into yours, her lip twitches when you press a soft kiss to the pad of her thumb before parting your lips to suck on it lightly. Camille lets out a pleased sigh, her pretty eyes darkening, “Such a good little puppy, aren’t you? So damn eager to please.”  She lets you suck her thumb a little longer before pulling it out and spreading her legs, “Come on, you’ve earned a treat.”

You gently rest your hands on her legs, moving closer so you could press kisses to her thighs. Her skin felt like silk, you could smell the lotion she uses and you found yourself never wanting to smell anything else. You go to graze your teeth against her skin but Camille tugs your hair roughly, “Don’t bite me,” she warns, only letting go when you rush out an apology. You kiss her skin again, murmuring another apology before carefully pushing her skirt further up her hips, your eyes darkening when you see her panties. You hook your fingers into them and tug them down. According to Camille, you were taking too long so she grabs your head and forces you between her legs. You let out a moan when you get your first taste of her, your tongue running through her folds and eagerly lapping her up. You swirl your tongue around her clit lightly before wrapping your lips around it and sucking gently, your finger starting to tease her pussy. You slowly push into her, gasping when her nails dig into your scalp, holding you firmer against her as you start to finger her. The louder Camille became, the more eagerly you pleased her, not stopping until you feel her gush against your face, and even then you lap her juices up not wanting to waste a drop.

Camille lets go of you and you rest your head against her lap as you both catch your breath, “Fuck,” she says after a few moments of heavy breathing, “I should get you to do that more often.”

You look up at her with twinkling eyes, “I’d stay under your desk if I could. That’s how addictive you are, Camille.” She chuckles and pats your cheek before leaning back and closing her eyes. “I’ll get you a coconut water-“

“No,” she cuts you off, “Just- Just sit, please.”

“Okay,” you smile and relax against her, wrapping an arm around her leg and closing your eyes too, the only sound in the room was your breaths. You didn’t want to think about it too much, her asking you to stay, what it meant, the consequences because that would ruin the content feeling that was washing over you and you didn’t want that. You just wanted to enjoy being this close to her. To enjoy being allowed to be this close to her. Camille, what an enigma.

[shybunnie20]

Bff!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Bff!Dustin Henderson

★My Masterlist

Summary: The last thing you want is to bring your friends down with you, so you decide against telling them how much you've been struggling. They find out in the worst way imaginable.

Author's Note: Thank you for another request, Anon! Writing this was cathartic because I got to channel aspects my personal experiences. I hope that reading this provides similar relief to you, reader.

Not suitable for sensitive readers! Heavy angst with a bittersweet ending. No use of Y/N. Inspired by the song Sara - We Three.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: MDNI 18+! Depression and anxiety, self-harm (cutting), panic attacks, suicidal ideation and attempt (overdose), substance abuse, includes swearing.

Do not proceed if the warnings are triggering for you. Read Down & to the Left instead, it has a similar theme but it's far less intense.

There are people in this world who have the luxury of not knowing what it’s like to experience mental illness. From the outside looking in, depression is nothing more than being exceptionally sad. Unsolicited advice comes with such naivety. A myriad of superficial solutions to a hardship that isn’t quite so easily soaked away by a candle-lit bubble bath or intensive exercise.

You’ve been dubbed as moody, complicated, and sensitive. These surface-level generalizations only go to show that your friends can’t possibly understand what you’re going through. At this rate, it’s not worth trying to explain the corrosion eating away at your cheeks from the tears.

Because of this, you continue the everlasting game of bloody knuckles. You have yet to say “mercy,” but god knows, you’ve come close. With one foot in the grave, you daydream about what your funeral will be like. Does anyone even care enough to know what your favorite flower is for the floral arrangements? Not likely.

In order to make it trickier for your demons to find you, it’s essential to drape a sheet over your bedroom window. Instead of them getting to rip you apart limb by limb, you dissolve into your blankets in the dark. The quietude instills a false sense of security that you hold near and dear. Sometimes it feels like that’s all that you have.

Is it lonesome? Sure. But you don’t ache for another person’s presence. When it comes down to it, apathy is what you want. Christ, what you wouldn’t give for it to swallow you whole already.

It’s common knowledge that in art mediums, blue is considered to be the color of sadness. Although, for you, it isn’t. With a flesh piercing blade as your brush, bright crimson is drawn to the surface—your canvas.

Looking in the mirror is the only way to see such a gallery of inconsistent markings. The reflection looking back at you is nothing short of a mocking image of everything you’ve failed to be.

Perhaps you’re a sucker for devastation because frankly, smiling feels unnatural. Any flicker of happiness feels repulsive and out of place. You’ve accepted that it’s just not an emotion you’re meant to experience.

At one point you’d felt envious of those who live vibrantly and carefree. You quickly learned that’s not the life you’re meant to live. As if assembled with faulty parts, you’ve always felt defective.

It’s a lot to deal with, and it has been for some time. That being said, you haven’t been going through this unaccompanied. Dustin and Eddie have always had your back. You couldn’t ask for more reasonable best friends.

Considering that you don’t open up to just anyone, you do find a little comfort in knowing that you have the option to confide in these two dorks.

The panic attacks have been occurring for a while. Somehow, the boys figured out how to help you through them. Dustin has gotten especially adept at detecting the symptoms before you’ve noticed them yourself.

However, their awareness doesn’t go beyond your experience with anxiety. You’d think that they could piece together the rest. But at the end of the day, they’re simple creatures.

Even though it’s right under their noses, they don’t realize the gravity of what you’re dealing with. You refuse to drag them into the darkness with you. They don’t deserve exposure to turmoil of this degree.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible to feel any more exhausted than you already did when you woke up this morning. Yet, another demanding day at work has proven otherwise. Not only has your brain turned to mush, but your body has followed suit. More than anything you want to lay in bed to sink into yourself. Luckily, you’re only moments away from doing so.

Colliding keychains and metal jingle while you try to insert your key into the front door’s lock. The metal slips from your shaky fingers and clatter as they hit the ground. You sigh exasperatedly and bend over to scoop up your keys. After doing so, you’re successful in your second attempt at letting yourself inside.

“Surprise!” 

The beaming expressions of Nancy, Jonathan, Steve, and Robin are convincingly mirrored on your face. You don’t even feel the disingenuous curl of your lips imitating a smile. It’s all instinct at this point.

Your eyes take in the room that’s been decorated with bundles of balloons and a handmade banner. “Oh, wow. You guys, this is-”

The sound of a party horn unfurling with a crinkle and honk causes you to jump in your skin. Dustin, having just bounced into view out of seemingly nowhere, insisted on hiding.

“You little shit,” you sigh amusedly, wrapping your arm around his shoulders to hug him with a squeeze. “I take it that you’re the mastermind behind this?”

Dustin tries, but fails to dodge your opposite hand that’s extended to tousle his coffee-colored curls. “I couldn’t let my party planning skills go to waste. It turned out awesome, if I do say so myself,” His eyes twinkle with a sense of achievement while they actively search yours for approval.

“Everything looks great, Dusty Bun. Thank you,” Your arm is still draped around his shoulder, so you give him a squeeze. He cringes at the use of his pet name as you make your way across the room to greet the remainder of your guests.

Nancy is perched on Jonathan’s lap while Robin is on the opposite end of the couch, which leaves the middle cushion available for you. As much as you don’t want to be this close in proximity to anyone right now, your body is far too sore to stand for much longer. Steve pours everyone’s beverages of choice and has Dustin deliver them from the kitchen. It takes a minute for you to find the ideal spot between your friends where your thighs aren’t touching theirs.

You drown out the lively chit-chat and music by descending into yourself. Birthdays don’t mean shit anymore. They’re simply a reminder that you just spent another 364 days pretending that you’re fine. Your preoccupation with death is always breathing hotly down your neck.

Just as your throat tightens and your eyes are on the verge of watering, the front door swings open. While balancing a carton of candles and a stack of paper plates on top of a pink bakery box, Eddie attempts to shake frizzy curls out of his face. He’s slightly winded from hustling in the hopes of making it back before you did. When his eyes meet yours, the expression of tizzy deflates. “Son of a bitch. I missed it?”

Dustin snorts mockingly while motioning to you. “Obviously, dude. She beat you by a couple of minutes.”

“God dammit!” Eddie throws his head back with a groan. “I was really looking forward to yelling ‘surprise.’ I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Eddie’s pout curls into a grin when he catches the eye roll you give in response to his belatedness. He quickly dresses the cake with candles and lights them with his trusty Zippo. Even with the pep in his step, he manages to approach you slowly enough that all of the candles remain lit.

Steve kills the lights and your friends begin to sing “Happy Birthday.” Not only is Dustin intentionally off-key but he’s ad-libbing through the whole song as well.

For as long as you can remember, you’ve been uncomfortable during the duration of the tune. Rather unsure of what to do with yourself while being serenaded. Are you supposed to be singing along? Where should you be looking? Luckily your counterfeit smile is realistic enough that it’s not obvious how uncomfortable you are right now.

Eddie crouches at your feet while balancing the cake over your knees. He grins sweetly, his honey-colored irises reflecting the swaying flames atop the multicolored candles. “Okay, baby doll. Time to make your wish and make it a good one.” He winks with a nod.

The room is hushed save for the record player continuing to spin a faint melody. You can feel everyone’s eyes boring into you and it makes you want to peel your skin off. All of your friends are buzzing with merriment but you can only think about the unorthodox method of relief you’re desperately craving. What’s your birthday wish? It’s for this to be over already.

You blow out the candles with a shallow breath and the tightness in your throat exacerbates as the dark room swells with clapping and whooping before Steve turns the lights back on. Those few seconds allow you to rid your cheeks of the tears that escaped before anyone can notice.

The last thing on your mind right now is eating cake but you force yourself to do so in order to play the part of being the birthday girl. Everyone is having a blast celebrating your existence while clueless as to how badly you want to die. Even though you’re surrounded by people who love you, it doesn’t quell the provocation from within. You can’t picture anything past this birthday and you’d be content with it being the last one.

To be honest, you’ve never been very good at coping. It’s become impossible to ignore the need to etch into the plush of your thigh. You’re not going to be able to get through the remainder of this party if you don’t get it out of your system. After politely excusing yourself, the pounding in your head thunders and you slip away to your bedroom.

Once you’ve closed the door, you hastily shimmy your pants off and plop yourself at the foot of the bed. A blade is drawn from the top drawer of your nightstand and with a fierce inhale you sink the straight edge into the existing lines to deeply reopen them. Your teeth chew the inside of your lip and a dull ache shoots through your body. This is it, this is how you’re supposed to feel. You’re not meant to feel content, you’re destined to self-destruct. The countdown ticks on, though you don’t know precisely how much time you have left before you finally beg for mercy.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Eddie’s zestful voice before the door opens. “Are you ready to tear into your presents? We’re-” With his mouth slightly agape, Eddie’s eyes lock onto the blood dripping down the curvature of your calf.

Well, the cat’s out of the bag. You intended to lock the door but failed to do so in your rash state of mind. You try to think of an excuse as if there’s a rational way to dismiss the damaging act. Your thinned forcefield evaporates and tears flood your vision once more. It’s awfully convenient because you can no longer see Eddie’s crestfallen mug.

Without further hesitation, Eddie closes the door behind him. He’s shaking from head to toe, eyes lingering on the bloodied razor blade still pinched between your fingers. He approaches cautiously, removes it from your hold, and places it in his jacket pocket. Out of sight out of mind. Eddie slides onto the bed behind you with his legs stretched alongside yours. After snaking his arms around your shoulders, he gently guides you backward against his chest.

He’s rigid for the first few seconds, but the sound of your wailing reminds him that his intention is to be a haven right now. You cling to him, fingernails digging into his forearms that are folded across your sternum. Eddie squeezes his eyes closed so tightly that the insides of his eyelids are splashed with tingling colors.

Every fighting gasp for air that you take between the silent screams causes panging in his chest as if atomic bombs are going off. He can’t afford to be distracted by his profuse concern because his priority is bringing you down from your heightened state. His mind is racing and yet it feels so blank at the same time. The blood transfers from your bare leg onto his jeans.

Of your friends in the living room, Dustin is the only one who hears the muffled commotion. He strolls down the hall to investigate. “Hey, guyyyys. The super awesome party I threw is out here.”

Eddie is quick to respond before the doorknob turns. “Don’t come in!” He knows Dustin will let himself in just as he had done moments ago. Eddie doesn’t want you to feel even more mortified by Dustin seeing you like this. “She’s not feeling well. Just uh- have everybody go home.”

“Did she hurl or something?” Dustin presses his ear against the door to try and determine what’s happening on the other side. You seemed fine a couple of minutes ago, how sick could you possibly be?

“Dude, please. Tell them she’s too tired for all the socializing tonight.” Eddie shushes you calmingly while you swallow your whimpers to avoid giving yourself away. “And you’ll need to catch a ride from Steve.”

Dustin doesn’t understand why he doesn’t get to stay and comfort you, he’s your best friend too. He cares about you just as much as Eddie, he would even argue that he loves you more than Eddie does. Regardless, he doesn’t bother arguing because judging by the tone of Eddie’s instruction, it’s not up for debate. He rallies your other pals to gather the accumulated trash on their way out. Dustin feels that his effort in making your birthday special was overlooked. He spent weeks planning out your party with the objective of impressing you.

Once the front door slams shut, your mental breakdown resumes in full force. Eddie scoops you up into his lap and rocks you gently. With your head bowed, your hair catches the tears plummeting from Eddie’s eyes. By the time you’ve stopped hyperventilating, your voice is coarse like sandpaper from screaming through the tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry.” You whine exasperatedly. Your nasal passage is blocked, forcing you to breathe out of your mouth. It feels like your head is full of helium and the pressure is pushing against your eyes. It’s making it unbearable to keep them open.

Eddie rests his cheek on the crown of your head and exhales steadily to release the pent-up tension. He assumes that you’re apologizing for injuring yourself but that’s far from the truth. You’re not sorry for doing it, you’re just sorry he saw it. Eddie refuses to let go regardless of the pins and needles swarming his legs.

The two of you sit in silence, the only noises being your sniffles and labored breathing. Once the pattern has returned to normal and he feels confident that you can drink safely, Eddie gets to his feet to leave the room. He stops in his tracks when you tug at his hand in protest. You’re visibly troubled by being unattended.

“Sit tight, sweetheart. I’ll be back in two shakes.” Eddie pets your hair and you reluctantly release his hand from your own.

Upon his return, he’s gathered a glass of water, a wet cloth, and your first aid kit. Your arms are far too feeble to support the weight of the glass, so Eddie tips it attentively as you drink. “Thank you,” You say breathily between sips.

Eddie wipes dribbled water from your chin with a subtle hum. After placing the cup aside, he kneels at the edge of the bed. He looks up at you for permission and you nod weakly, wincing when he uses the warm cloth to rid your leg of the dried blood. The site is visibly inflamed so he’s being as gentle as he can. Once the wound is clean, Eddie applies antibiotic ointment and a bandage. Lastly, he presses a barely-there kiss to the site in order to help make it feel better.

He spares you much back and forth, so as to not overwhelm you. “Arms up.”

Ever so compliant, you raise your arms. Eddie pulls your shirt off and tosses it in the hamper. Prior to this evening, being half-naked in front of him would’ve been awkward. Although, having been pantsless up until now, you could give a shit. Being caught doing what you were was more undignified than wearing one less article of clothing would be.

“That’s goin’ too,” he motions to your bra, turning away from you to dig through your dresser.

While you’re tugging off the garment, Eddie runs his palm over the folded pajamas to see which ones are the softest and will in turn be the most pacifying. He pulls out a band tee that he hadn’t realized you’d swiped from him and the corner of his mouth quirks up but he can’t form a full grin.

You take the shirt from his extended reach and pull it over your head. “Okay.” You utter raspily as the cue that you’re decent and he can turn around.

Eddie hands you a tissue because he can hear that you’re only breathing through your mouth. You blow your nose harshly, far too spent to care about how gross it sounds. After clearing your airway with a few tissues, Eddie discards them and then uses the clean side of the wet cloth to wipe the remaining mess from under your nose. “There we go. That’s much better, isn’t it?”

With a sheepish nod, you scoot backward on the bed and lay down gradually, your muscles like stiffening cement. Eddie tucks you under the covers and as soon as your head makes contact with the pillow, your eyes fall closed and don’t reopen.

Minutes after you succumb to exhaustion, Eddie cries quietly to himself. For hours, he lays here watching you sleep and strokes your tear-stained cheek with the pad of his thumb. His eyes remain open, unwilling to rest because he’s fearful that something bad will happen if he dozes off. Eddie needs to guard you, even if that means he has to protect you from yourself. Losing you would be the worst thing that could happen to him.

Despite trying, he can’t get the image out of his head. The scattered scars that surrounded your fresh wound are burned into his memory. This wasn’t a one-time thing. Whatever is going on with you is unmistakably severe enough that you’re hiding it from him and have been for a while.

How is he going to tell Dustin? Maybe he'll leave it at the fact that you’re having a difficult time and omit the part about you hurting yourself. It would positively crush him if he found out. Besides, Eddie doesn’t want to jeopardize everything by violating your trust.

You made Eddie promise not to tell a soul what happened that day, including Dustin. He agreed on the terms that you’d inform him when you need help from thereon out. You wish you could keep your word but that’s easier said than done. How are you supposed to vocalize the wretched things your brain tells you? It’s a language only you can comprehend, it’s meant to torment you specifically. 

You’re not stupid, you know how much that evening shook him up. To put Eddie’s heart at ease you’ve gotten better at feigning that everything is peachy keen. Not dissimilarly, Eddie is playing pretend too. He acts as though he doesn’t see you differently knowing what he does now. Obviously, you don’t want to discuss it so he continues to act like it never happened.

Eddie thinks about it every day and he’s had an abundance of nightmares that replay like an echo. He can’t move past it because not only is he concerned that you’re still hurting yourself, but you’re also refusing to let him in. You’re effectively shutting out the person you’ve told everything. Certainly, if he tried to talk to you about it, you’d remove yourself from his life entirely.

To his credit, he’s right on the money. Not only that, but your state of well-being has worsened. The daydreaming is more vivid and you ponder what the least painful way to go would be. Existing already hurts so much, you want to feel at peace when you rest.

It has surpassed psychological pain nowadays. The entirety of your body is overrun with fatigue. You just want to be free from it all. It’s like a home invasion where anxiety and depression ransack your mind in search of valuables. Anxiety leaves no stone unturned while depression covers your mouth and presses a gun to your temple.

Dustin and Eddie are still your best friends, but you’ve met someone new. Their name is Ativan and god, they’re a treat. Although prescribed as needed for your panic attacks, they offer you access to a realm of serenity that you can’t reach without them.

At the end of every grueling day, the first thing you do when you get home is swig down a tablet. By the time you’ve changed out of your work clothes and crawled into bed, you’re seeping into the dimension that connects this world to another. It feels dense but it isn’t warm or cold and it doesn’t hug nor choke you. It simply carries you away from worthlessness and inadequacy.

At the thirty-minute mark, your brain has melted to slush. Your surroundings smudge together, erasing any previously discernable objects. It’s best to be in bed because with how uncoordinated and sluggish it makes you, you become one with whatever surface you end up on.

The day Eddie caught you, you learned that he truly thinks the world of you. But when it comes down to it, you need to be more secretive in order to shield not only him but Dustin too. You hate that Eddie checks in on you from time to time. You don’t hate that he cares enough to ask, it’s that it pains you to lie every time he does.

Ideally, if you withdraw from your friends subtly enough, no one will feel majorly impacted when you decide to call it quits. People say that suicide is selfish but that’s not entirely true. If anything it’s inherently selfless because you believe that you’re freeing your loved ones of the burden that you perceive yourself as.

Today is another one of those days where you can’t be bothered to get out of bed. You missed your shift at work in its entirety by having slept for 14 hours straight. It doesn’t matter. You’d much rather lie here to rot, so you did. Asleep or awake, all you can think about is that feeling of pure ease. A state beyond numbness and unconsciousness. Rather, it’s nothingness. That’s where you want to be.

You’re hanging on by a thread worn too thin. The apathy bites at your toes and gnaws its way up your body. Tears well in your eyes and drip onto your pillowcase. You feel nauseated and woozy. Living day after day has slashed you to the point of being able to see through yourself. Your headstone is half engraved, only missing today’s date.

While choking on the reasons why you should give up, there’s no flavor of justification for continuing to live. You subconsciously rip open tallied scabs on your wrist from last night’s bloodletting. The bedsheets run red, blood smearing across your skin. You can’t feel it, it’s not enough. The ringing demand is painfully loud. You have to make it stop.

The brittleness of your lungs causes you to claw for a rickety breath. Spit drips down your chin as your burnt-out throat fails to produce a scream. You clutch the sheets with bloodied fingers. Gotta make it stop. After rolling off of the mattress, your palms hit the floor before you can get to your feet.

You use the wall to brace yourself as you stagger to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet is torn open and rattling fills the small room as bottles fall into the basin below. The thunder in your brain overrides your senses, impairing your ability to see and hear. Your hips press against the sink to keep yourself vertical while you search the cabinet. 

With the desired bottles in hand, you pop the caps and they bounce when they hit the floor. You dump the contents into your palm, balling your fist to ensure that you don’t drop any. You don’t care how many are left, it just needs to be enough. With a few gulps of booze from the bottle tucked beside the bathtub, you throw back the handful of tablets and swallow thickly. The sensation of the bitter liquid searing your throat is tranquilizing in itself, ensuring that solace is soon to come.

Due to your stomach being empty, the shift hits like a whirlwind. You sit on the cold floor with your back against the side of the tub. The tears stop, your heart rate slows, and an unfamiliar warmth washes over you. Finally, the urge is satiated. As the full-body trembling ceases and the earth stops turning, your eyelids seal as you melt in the stillness.

Your phone rings twice only moments after you’ve taken the pills. Ten minutes later your front door opens and slams shut.

Dustin toes off his sneakers, eyeing Eddie while he does the same. “If she’s working late shouldn’t we just wait for her to get home? I don’t think she'll appreciate us being here unsupervised.”

Eddie shakes the spare house key he snagged from its hiding place. “She won’t even know we were here. We’re just gonna dig around real quick. My lighter has got to be here ‘cause I’ve looked everywhere.” He ties his hair back with a rubber band and shucks off his denim jacket.

“There’s no way you looked everywhere.” Dustin remarks, earning an annoyed look from Eddie.

“Yeah, no shit. That’s why we’re here, genius.” Eddie commences the hunt by lifting couch cushions and tossing around the decorative pillows.

Dustin fake scours for a beat before heading toward the hall.

“Where are you going?” Eddie dramatically shakes out a throw blanket as if it’ll make his Zippo appear like a magic trick. 

“Bathroom.”

“Seriously? I told you not to drink a whole can of pop.”

“Well, I did.” Dustin crosses his arms defensively. “And if I hold it any longer I'll spontaneously combust. Do you wanna have to clean that up?”

“Gross, no thanks.” Eddie tosses the blanket back on the couch, neglecting to refold it. “Just hurry up and don’t touch anything.”

“Why would I?” Dustin squints.

Eddie mirrors the teen’s prickly body language. “Uh, ‘cause you’re nosey as hell.” He states matter-of-factly.

“Am not,” Dustin calls out as he pivots down the hall. He stops in the doorway to the bathroom, met with the sight of you slumped on your side. “Eddie…”

“What? Found it?” Eddie cocks his head at Dustin’s statue-like stance. He approaches and peeks into the bathroom, then abruptly brushes past Dustin to get to you. Eddie’s knees bruise from the sheer force at which they smack the porcelain tile. He guides you to sit upright but your unsupported head rolls forward. “Nononono shit shit shit!”

When he scoops you up into his arms, he feels the subtle warmth of your skin against his own. Still alive. Thrust into panic mode, Eddie repeatedly taps your cheek to elicit a reaction but to no avail. Tears pour from his eyes as he secures your head to his heaving chest. “Go call for help!”

Dustin doesn’t flinch, his mouth hanging open and eyes unblinking. Utterly frozen in carbonite as he witnesses his best friend dying on the bathroom floor.

“NOW!” Eddie booms pressingly.

Dustin dashes away to dial 911. In the meantime, Eddie cradles you and sobs. “We’re here, sweetheart. We’re here now.”

After all this time, the way you’ve been feeling has finally broken the surface. Your emotions are now presented in their rawest form, revealing how broken you’ve been feeling.

“Hurry, Dustin!” Eddie beseeches through a wet cough. The tears cascade from his cheeks onto your limp body, soaking into the fabric of your shirt. “Just hold on for me, okay?” His voice cracks, “Please don’t go.” The knot in his stomach is taut while he focuses on the jagged passing of air through your nostrils.

He kisses your temple and nuzzles his blotchy cheek in its wake. “Please, god. Please please please… don’t take her from us.” Eddie is doing his damndest to keep you from slipping away by stimulating you with his voice and touch. A faint rattle spills from your throat, your brain is convinced that you’re floating but you’re sinking fast. “Dustin!”

On cue, he reappears in the doorway with puffy bloodshot eyes and a wet sheen trailing from his nose, pooling in his Cupid’s bow. “They’re on the way.”

“We gotta keep her warm,” Eddie sniffles with glossily desperate eyes. Dustin gets on his knees and complies. The two of them cocoon you in their body heat until the paramedics arrive.

The boys are forced out of the bathroom and they stand in the living room to stay out of the way. Dustin is enveloped in Eddie’s trembling arms. He buries his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck to dampen the sound of his unbridled blubbering.

Eddie shields him from looking as you’re wheeled out of the bathroom on the gurney. He has to be strong for Dustin because you couldn’t say the same for yourself.

Dustin grabs fistfuls of Eddie's shirt and tugs so hard that the seams snap. “She’s gonna be okay, right?” He rasps with a saturated cry.

“Yeah-” Eddie refuses to think for even a second that it’ll just be the two of them from now on. You’re a part of the unit, it’s meant to stay that way. He tightens his embrace, holding Dustin impossibly closer. ”She’s stronger than both of us combined. She’s gonna pull through this, I know it.” 

Author's Note Cont.: Eddie and Dustin are so proud of you for trying your best every day, even when it doesn’t feel like you have much to show for it.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

[veryace-ficrecs]

Steve Harrington with Head Trauma Fic Recs

one of my favorite Stranger Things tropes, here is a list of Steve having head trauma and/or suffering from migraines.

as always this list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own  discretion! :)

Misjudged Your Limits by kikisifi13 - Rated T

"According to Robin, the first signs that Steve was getting a migraine were the little things, things that would seem normal if they were coming from anyone else. Steve had walked into Family Video that morning fifteen minutes late, wearing sunglasses and clutching a thermos of coffee. And sure, it was summer. But the knowing glance that Robin shot Eddie told him this wasn’t that."

After being beaten up one too many times, Steve Harrington has some head trauma to show for it. This also means migraines, which he tries his best to avoid displaying. 3 months into dating Eddie Munson, that particular situation becomes unavoidable, and when Steve is forced to be vulnerable, Eddie doesn't know what the hell he's supposed to do. Cue Robin leading Eddie through Caring For Steve's Migraines: A Comprehensive Guide.

TW: headaches, nausea, vomiting

Odds and Ends by kikisifi13 - Rated T

The plan is this: Steve is supposed to take the kids to see the newest Star Trek movie this Friday. The problem is this: Steve is due for a migraine.

basically the kids thought his migraines weren't a big deal, and now they DEFINITELY do hehe well, with a little help from Eddie and Robin. and Max. she knows what's up.

So Let It Out And Let It In by fangirlandtheories - Rated T

"Steve and his Dad get into a fight so he instinctively seeks out Eddie, only realizing too late that he's in the middle of DnD night with the kids, forcing him to be vulnerable in front of them." Anon request from Tumblr. *** “Hey, Steve, you’re kinda freaking us out dude.” Mike was slowly rising from his seat as he watched Steve’s eyes start to flutter. “Why’s your voice sound like that?”

medicinal by peaktotheocean - Rated T

 “I’ve got a friend who is having a ton of migraine issues," Robin blurted out. Eddie's head rose to look at her. That was a new one. "We heard weed helps. Any truth to it?” She asked hopefully.

Uncle Wayne always used to joke that Eddie was too curious for his own good. Eddie just never thought he'd agree with the assessment while selling weed to Robin Buckley of all people.

Sticky Notes by voidpacifist - Rated M

"It's the only music I can hear," Steve answers honestly. Something soft passes over Eddie's face at the admission. It's not pity. Steve saw pity in the librarians eyes as he and Dustin and Robin checked out all those books on ASL. Steve knows what self righteous sympathy does to a person's face, and it isn't doing that to Eddie's. No, Eddie's expression is maybe closest to understanding.

-

Steve's hearing was already dwindling on the precipice of "not good" after his run-in with Billy Hargrove in 1984. Less than a year and one Russian interrogation later, he loses the totality of his hearing in his left ear, and most of it in his right. To help himself readjust to a world with minimal sound, he starts seeking noise in a way he never expected to — by attending Corroded Coffin's performances at the Hideout.

Eddie wants to know what the hell is up with "King Steve" suddenly showing up to his shows. His questioning doesn't go to plan, and instead he lands himself an unexpected new friend.

-

pre!S3 —> post!S4

 yesterdays shatter, tomorrows don't matter by yellowmarshmallow - Rated M

There were only so many times someone could hit you in the head before you got lasting problems. Steve found that the number was about three.

But now Robin and the kids insist he should look after himself, and with Eddie making it his mission to make sure he does, Steve isn't sure he's in a place to argue.

Maybe being loved isn't so bad.

Stuck in My Head by schrijverr - Rated T

Between Jonathan, Billy and the Russians, Steve’s brain has taken enough damage for it to be permanent. He tries to deal with it, but with the Upside Down coming back, he can’t keep doing it alone. So, he confides in Eddie, the most unlikely person, but the only one who doesn’t yet count on him to be strong. The secret gives them a bond that helps them grow closer together as Eddie has Steve’s back and shows him he’s worth something.

[fictionkinfessions]

Reply to: /771087628502286337/does-anyone-have-advice-on-writing-down-memories

Hi, I’m not sure what kind of advice you’re looking for, but I write fics based on memories all the time: they don’t have to be fully fledged fics!

You can write one shots that focus on a specific “idea” (memory), sprinkle in however many “headcanons” (memories) you want (I promise you, no one cares what “headcanons” you throw in, so don’t worry about how vague or niche they are. Honestly, a lot of people like when depth like that is added in my experience, so if it feels like something you want to include, go for it), and call that good!

I also recommend just getting information down (like in a google doc, your notes app, etc. Personally a huge fan of making random ass notes to dump memories in) about the memories you have because sometimes you get lost in writing, so a little blurb can naturally grow into something more, but you also still have the memory just in case you don’t have the motivation, time, etc. to extend that blurb rn. I also like to make rough outlines based on whatever blurb I write because it helps me stay focused and reach “goals”, allowing me to take breaks between certain amounts of words or time has passed in the fic.

Also, please remember that fics don’t have to be pumped out in a day— tbh I have some that’ve taken me months just because I don’t have the motivation and some 15k+ ones that took me 2 days. Generally just all about how you’re feeling, if the motivation hits while you’re setting things up, how locked in on a source your brain is, etc etc etc….. Point is trying to force yourself or crank them out isn’t gonna do you any favors. Oh, Nd most people writing fics are writing them for themselves, a small group of friends, or just to be silly, so don’t fret too hard about “making stuff up”. If it’s real to you, no matter how small or niche the memory, then include it and block anyone who’s an asshole.

Anyway, hope any of my nonsense can help ease your anxiety. You’ll figure it out, just don’t be afraid to toy around with how and what you write! You’ve got this anon :)

[heavybreathingcatt]

anon -- IM SO EXCITED !! im not active on tumblr at all anymore (i actually only logged in to send you these anons), but if you want a beta reader/personal hypeman on discord or so? lmk <33 im not a fanfic writer but im active on the roleplaying side of things writing-wise.

This snippet is SO interesting so far -- first off, Walter! Can't wait to see what circumstances lead him back into our group, him meeting Angel, and maybe having him can help heal some of the hurt in my heart from losing Nyx and Crake

And Rhys !! I can't wait to see how their relationship will unfold -- Will Rhys ever learn of Timothy telling Vaughn to not promote him? Will Timothy? There's so much conflict to be established. Of course there is the basis provided by Borderlands canon -- but what really spiked my interest is what WAW included. That shift from the starry-eyed young man we see in the Becoming Jack chapters into the CEO of Atlas who survived Jack -- oh, I have absolute faith in your handling of it, I can't wait to see who Rhys is in the world of WAW.

I’m at work so I’m speed replying. I’m painting koalas atm. Yep. 👍

Man thanks for logging back in to say hi! I’ve also not been active on tumblr but making an effort to return :3

lol anon you’re amazing you know my fic better than me. I really should read the whole thing. I hadn’t considered yet the implications of Lawrence ruining Rhys career ahaha for Timothy that would have been an average Tuesday night (and I think he got high as well). There is no way he would remember a once off fan boy encounter amongst the thousands of encounters he would have had. But Rhys on the other hand. He sure would remember.

It’s not a huge spoiler as it will be established very quickly in the fic but Rhys will be the antagonist to Lawrence. But not a villain. Rhys choices (which are… questionable at best) are not gonna let Lawrence have a good time.

I’m really enjoying writing Walter back into the fic. He makes for a great bridge to reintroduce some old themes and explain some missing parts of the story back to the reader. And if it wasn’t mentioned when I first introduce him in the author notes he’s based of Michael Fassbenders character from Alien Convent. Looks the same too.

Thanks for the comment about helping out with ideas and just chatting in general. As long as you ain’t a minor you can add me on discord (same goes for anyone else) at heavybreathingcat I’m too fucking old to be talking to the kids these days. My zoomer coworks already call me an old mellinial 🥹🥲

🫡

[intothegenshinworld]

give your moots a valentine's day ship?

✦ Ahh!! I was away when I got this ask but I’m still in time for Valentine's so it’s alright!! XD Thank you for sending this to me as well anon!! I’ve been seeing it a lot on my dashboard and it’s fun being included :D ✦ I’m totally taking this chance to interact more with my moots because I’m way too shy otherwise XDDD (ALSO!! If I missed anyone, I was afraid to tag you TuT I’m not sure who is or who isn’t my moot so lmk if you do consider me one!!!) ✦ Couldn´t make everything 'Valentine's day' themed so I gave ya´ll general tropes, hope that´s alright too!!!!

@zhongrin // Zhongli (Reincarnation AU)

Your first meeting isn’t your first meeting, you realize. For an immortal, it’s hard to fall in love with someone who is a mortal. But somehow you make all the pain worth it. He’d wait a thousand years just to see your smile again, and he’d wait a thousand more just to have you in his arms. ✦ You can’t help but fall in love with Zhongli over and over again. No matter his form, no matter the era, it’s as if fate tied you two together a long time ago. (I am so sorry, my mind has brainwashed me to ship you with Zhongli forevermore) 

@watatsumiis // Capitano (small sunshine & big gloomy)

The Fatui soldiers can’t help but wonder why you’re holding hands with the big intimidating Harbinger. You’re so friendly and welcome to everyone, and he’s… Y’know. But little do the people know how Capitano melts in your company. He loves listening to your rambles, your stories, and he loves holding you close. Please don’t break his heart!! He’s a bit awkward but he loves you so SO much!! He’s just unsure how to show it to you :(  ✦ The Fatui soldiers will notice Capitano’s feelings for you when they realize he’s much softer when you’re near. If someone messes up, they’ll choose to tell Capitano when you’re around as well, hoping the punishment will be less severe that way. (Capitano lifting general up WHEN??? <- the real content we're waiting for)

@cherry-froggie // Kaeya (childhood friends)

You’ve known each other for many years now. You were there when Kaeya’s world came crashing down, and you’re still here after everything. He’s a joy to be around, he tells you all his secrets and brings you with him on expeditions outside of Mondstadt so you can see the world with him. Recently your chest seems to grow tight whenever you spend time together. Could you be falling in love with him after all these years?! Funny enough, he’s loved you since the first time meeting you. ✦ Diluc knows. It’s one of those things he can’t stand about his brother. Those nights when Kaeya invites you to drink with him in Angel’s Share? Archons. Diluc can’t understand how you’re both so oblivious to each other's feelings. (So soft for KaeyaxCherry for some reason. Childhood friends is just the perfect amount of angst and trust for a Kaeya trope imo, BUT DW!!! Eventually you both realize you were meant to be together all along and it’d be so cute TUT)

@dustofthedailylife // Alhaitham (coffee shop AU)

It’s the exam period and you see a lot of students fill the spaces of your usual cafe. One day, a handsome guy from your school takes the empty seat across from you. He doesn’t ask for it either- he just… sits. But honesty, you can’t complain! You spend your time with him in silence, sketching his concentrated face (his frown is low-key adorable), before he abruptly stands up. You’re a bit confused, but the note he left behind has a clear message for you (and his number?!) ‘You’re good company. Call me when exams are over.’  ✦ You’re the only person Alhaitham would voluntarily spend his free time with. He’s not oblivious either, he notices the way you’d glace at him when he’s focused on his work. And while it’s distracting, he somehow doesn’t mind when it’s you who distracts him. (Mutual pining until Alhaitham figures out how he feels. Amazing 100k+ slow burn fic!!! Honestly so wholesome TuT)

[lawlietscaramels]

I read your last post (and all the previous ones), but I haven’t had the energy to comment on it lately. I’m a bit drowsy rn but I would like to chat about headcanons and such.

See, I’ve always been a person who tries to adhere to canon as much as possible in my own writing/art/etc. I try not to stray too far for fear of misinterpreting the characters or misrepresenting them.

But then I entered the death note fandom. You’re totally right with comparing the different canons to multiverses with their own rulesets. There’s so much out there to read, watch, etc. And everyone has different opinions on what’s “more” canon. I would take it one step further and say that anyone’s perception of the story is going to be slightly different from another’s, because that’s how we see things. And people in fandom make art and such based on their perceptions of the characters, which often includes projecting headcanons onto them. For better or worse.

Tbh, I dunno if I really got the idea of a “comfort character” until L and Near. There’s just so much about them that I relate to, especially Near. I may never solve a serial murder case, but I do solve problems by sitting on the floor and playing with toys. I find myself staring dead-eyed at people or at screens when I’m thinking. My point is that I find comfort in these characters, and wonder what they might do if scared, or stressed, or alone. Naturally, headcanons arise, based on my interpretation and my outlook on the world. The important thing is, I’m not Ohba or Obata. If I write these characters, I’m naturally going to insert little pieces of myself in the characters, whether I know it or not. And so will you, and anyone who writes them.

When you wrote your headcanons about L vs Ryuzaki, I found myself nodding along because I related to those. As a neurodivergent person myself, I sometimes feel like I subconsciously act differently in the presence of others out of a need to keep an “image” that others have built of me, even if it’s not entirely positive. That’s how I interpreted your post about L. I understand, however, why the other anon interpreted the post as ableist. Maybe it came off as you “explaining away” L’s habits, like some attempt to make the character more “palatable”. I don’t wanna put words in your or the anon’s mouths though, so I’m not gonna speculate.

I guess I just wanted to write this to say- it’s okay that you have headcanons and I promise you, I love reading them! Sometimes people interpret them poorly, and sometimes we need to reflect on why we have the headcanons we do about characters. I really do think you had good intentions though.

I’m not sure how to wrap this up, but I genuinely hope you’re doing well, Lei. Feel free to delete this ask after you’ve read it, if you like. I just thought I’d try to give an opinion.

-🎲 (I hope this ask is coherent and tumblr doesn’t eat it.)

I wanna share this because you genuinely just made my day, 🎲 anon. and also to elaborate more. So, anyone with doubts on my intentions, please read.

I did admit and I will say again that I did not approach L vs Ryuzaki in the best way and I did not think it through. But my intention was NOT to explain L's traits away and make them more "palatable." I didn't realise I needed to include this in the description of the original post, but I love him so much for his "weirdness" and being "unpalatable" because that's what society calls me when I don't mask. Like L, I sit in weird ways, and speak in monotone, and I play a lot with mouth and fingers, and I dead stare at people and I just. I see a lot of myself in him.

And the things that I've always felt bad about myself I love seeing in/headcanoning on L. To share a personal story, I stare at people without blinking for several minutes, and when I was entering my teen years I got called rude, weird and creepy for it - and around that time I watched Death Note and I immediately clicked with L (for many reasons but that's the one I can give a specific example why for). I went "L stares like me, and people call him weird, but I can see he's not bad, he's really cool - maybe I'm not bad either".

That got into a bit of a rant sorry 😭 again. obviously I didn't intend to hurt anyone. but again, I did not approach it in the best way. I should also say, because I didn't address it properly in my original answer: I wasn't trying to elaborate on the Ryuzaki theory. I was trying to share my own headcanons on how L expresses MORE of himself, NOT a completely different self, when alone.

I do think he sleeps at least once a day (if only for a short time). I do think he eats things other than sweets (especially steak. I throw my anemia onto him and with it comes STRONG cravings for rare meat). I do think he sits in ADDITIONAL ways to the 40% smarter. but I DON'T think that those traits are all 100% fake completely for show.

anyway. again. seeing this made me feel better. I'm not sure if the anon who sent the ableist thing was a follower, but it's nice to know that people I've been interacting with can tell I didn't have malicious intent. I felt pretty down after getting it, I felt so bad about writing something that could be interpreted like that - maybe that could only be interpreted like that - and I kind of avoided Tumblr a bit after. even posting of a and b or any of my recent "lei chats," I've felt so anxious that I'm going to be misinterpreted. It's the worst feeling. In real life people assume I'm being rude/malicious all the time when I'm being genuine/don't have that intent. Online, in the most part, I found a space where people assume the opposite. So it hurt.

AGAIN I RANTED AND IT GOT A BIT PERSONAL I'M SO SORRY. but thank you very much 🎲 anon. you made me smile <3

[x-neurodivergent-reader]

Heyy i Hope You’re Doing well! I’m a new writing acc and I don’t really have any requests or an audience, can I please ask for your advice on how to start writing more or gaining an audience, because I struggle to write without any ideas being given or a prompt list.

Sending love!! Byee

Hello, welcome to the world of writing fanfiction! Since this might get a bit rambly, I'll stick my advice under the cut. I'll also break it up into categories, and bold the most important parts, just for easier readability.

Writing a particular niche/experience

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how universal my experience with writing/the following I built is, because my blog is directed towards a specific niche? It was genuinely a case of there being very few fics directed at/including neurodivergent readers, deciding "fine, I'll do it myself", and then the people who also wanted more of such fics were drawn to my writing as they came across it.

As such, writing one or two things based on your unique personal experiences (that you're comfortable sharing) might be a good start?

Your blog doesn't have to be centred around those experiences for you to write about them, and it doesn't have to be very specific, either (a few of my first posts were literally HCs for "[character] x Autistic!Reader - Established Relationship"). My more specific/unique ideas came along as I wrote more, and from the requests that came in over time.

There'll always be someone out there who not only relates to your experiences and feelings, but is waiting to see themselves in your stories!

Prompt lists (even without anyone to send them!)

Other than that, though: there's no shame in starting with a prompt list! Even if there's no one to give you a prompt yet, you might be able to find a small list, and then put the numbers/prompts into a random name picker to choose it for you?

I've just had a look for some examples, and a lot of prompt lists tend to be fairly long, from what I'm seeing (around 15-25 prompts seems to be the average) - but I've found this blog, that has some smaller lists to choose from. If anyone else knows of any others that anon might find useful, feel free to share them here!

An extra bit of advice...

This isn't really relevant to your question, but is the No. 1 bit of advice I would give to a new fic writer: figure out what you are/aren't comfortable writing before you start taking requests.

When I got my first request, the requester ended up having to change it a couple times, because I hadn't considered that, for example, someone could request a character I wasn't familiar with - leading to the "don't request characters I haven't already written for" rule in my guidelines. In hindsight, I'd recommend writing several fics before you start taking requests, so you have a better idea of what your boundaries are, and can list them out for people to take note of. It'll save you, and the requesters, a lot of trouble!

It's also important to not let anyone intentionally try to break those boundaries (e.g. by blatantly guilt-tripping you). While it's wonderful to have people appreciate your writing enough to want to see more from you, they aren't entitled to cross the line like that - it's OK to stand up for yourself. Do no harm, take no shit, etc. etc.

And that's all I've got!

I hope this was at least a little bit helpful - again, I'm not sure how universal the way my blog grew is, but hopefully there's something you'll be able to take away from this!

I hope you have fun writing! c:

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Hello I’m back for more requests along with the second part of my previous request as promised! Can I request a part 2 one shot of Eren x Treasure!Hunter!Explorer!Fem!Reader where after Eren and Y/N explored most of paradise including the scouts HQ, the underground chapel, and several areas related to Erens past and telling her his story about paradis, history, and his life (Y/N even had difficulty finding Eren clothes to wear and still had no luck finding any), they came across Mikasa and Erens old home that was rebuilt and now abandoned and decided to stay there for the night. Later at night Y/N gave Eren a comforting sponge bath while he sits on a stool on the roof where his mom and Mikasa used to do laundry and gave him a haircut resembling his old hairstyle and Eren began to cry that he’s never had someone who’s kind like Y/N and gave her a hug as Y/N comforts him before going to bed cuddling each other. Finally the next morning, Eren woke up to find Y/N giving him clothes that she found nearby to wear after she went out to get more artifacts, notes, and sketches and Eren tells Y/N he wanted to go with her because he has nothing left in Paradis, wanted to move on from his past, and stay with her for the rest of his life and she accepts before they both departed Paradis for the next adventure and Y/Ns home? Thank you! - 🧁

(Hello again, 🧁 Anon! I really hope you enjoy this, sorry if theres any mistakes or grammar errors I had a hard time proofreading this because of my OCD was fucking me up terribly. I hope you have a very wonderful day/night)

Could This be Fate?

Eren Yeager x FEM! Explorer! Reader

(Warning: Part 2, after Rumbling AU, fantasy stuff, fluff, and mentions of nudity)

After you and Eren explored most of what’s left in Paradis and several areas related to Eren’s past. You guys walked around aimlessly while he told you the history of Paradis, his life story, and how he became this way.

Eren still had the blanket wrapped around his waist since you had no luck finding any clothes for him when you were exploring Paradis.

A mossy abandoned home entered your field of vision and you pointed at it to get Eren’s attention and said that you guys should stay there for the night since it’s getting quite dark. As you two walked closer Eren spoke up,

“That looks like my home, my childhood home..someone must’ve rebuilt it for some reason.”

“I wonder why it was rebuilt.” You say as you opened the door and got settled while Eren was looking around a bit amazed at the accuracy of the detail.

“I know you’re feeling a lot of conflicting emotions all at once so do you perhaps want a bath to relieve some of the emotions?”

Eren turns to look at you, “Sure, I would like that since I’m also a bit dirty from being underground for so long.”

....

After you were done giving Eren a nice long relaxing bath, you dried him off using another blanket you had in your bag. You apologized to him for not being able to find any clothes for him to wear and he assured you that he was okay.

Eren grabbed a wooden stool nearby and pulled you by the hand gently and took you to this area. Just when you were about to question him he spoke,

“My mom and Mikasa used to do laundry here when I was younger.” Eren says, touching the tips of his long hair, remembering all the good times back then before the wall was breached. He sits down before speaking, “Do you have a pair of scissors with you in your bag, if so can you cut my hair? It’s getting a bit too long.”

“Sure, but I never cut anyone’s hair before so I apologize in advance if I mess it up.”

About a half hour later you’re finally finished cutting his hair. “I’m not really sure if this is what you wanted but I really hope you like it.” You said nervously, afraid of how he’ll like it but that nervousness went away when you felt his arms wrap around you tightly.

“I love it.” Is all he managed to say, it’s been a long while since the last time someone cared that much for him. You pulled away from the hug to wipe away his tears, smiling at him you suggested that since it’s getting late you both should go to sleep and cuddle.

....

The sun came up and the next morning came, Eren woke up and found that you weren’t in bed next to him, he turned over and saw you standing there folding some clothes and setting it on the bedside table so he can put it on whenever he’s ready.

He sat up and thanked you quietly, putting on the clothes while asking you where you found them at.

“I went out exploring while you were still sleeping to find more artifacts and to sketch out a few new things and found the clothing along the way.”

You could tell that Eren wanted to say something important so you sat down on the bed and waited for him to talk. He sat down next to you and speaks “If it’s okay with you, I would like to come with you because I have nothing left here and plus I want to move on from my past and stay with you forever till the day I die.”

“Of course, I would love that.” You smile softly at him, “Well let’s go, we got more journeys and adventures ahead of us and you can also come to my hometown too, I’m sure you’ll love it there.”

Masterlist

[reikunrei]

fuck it. cringe and embarrassment is dead. i’m letting the ooey gooey lovey dovey take over. i’m sorry if this is uncomfortable but it’s really truly trying to claw its way out of me. here’s a quick i love you to my stranger things mutuals:

i love you user @antisociallilbrat for letting me cry about IT to you every day and ramble about nonsense. i love you for being a really awesome new friend that i met through stupid bullshit when i accidentally got angry anons sent to you because you agreed with one of my posts. i love you for being strong and trying so hard in your daily life and putting your all into your writing (i’m so looking forward to your big bang piece). i love you for being someone i can just drop in on and say hello to and can share stories about our days. keep being wonderful.

i love you user @aemiron-main for being so kind and funny and smart and for making me laugh every day with your posts. i love you for the way your lovely brain works, all the things you notice about st, and how wonderfully you weave everything together to make it all make sense. i love you for your wonderful art that i admire so deeply. i love you for your kindness and warmth. keep being incredible.

i love you user @henrysglock for being funny and quit-witted and generous with your love and appreciation. i love you for all the work, time, and effort you put into your analysis and the wonderful ways you share your thoughts with the rest of us. i love you for your creative writing that i admire so much and never cease to be blown away by. i love you for being sweet and understanding. i know i already sent a version of this to you in dms but have this second draft. keep being cool.

i love you user @pinkeoni wow it still let me tag it but also user @robinkeoni for your awesome football-field-length analysis posts that i always end up 100% agreeing with no matter what because you’re Just That Right. i love you for being so kind and warm and welcoming to others, your presence is so sweet and comfortable and you enter discussions and answer questions with a lot of grace and poise that i admire. i love you for always speaking your mind and sharing your ideas and thoughts with us. keep being lovely.

i love you user @emblazons​ for making absolutely lovely gif edits that are total eye-candy to look at and i’m always excited to see on my dash. i love you for also having an anime icon, something that i first took note of when i began searching for st blogs to follow and went “ah. same hat.” i love you for your analysis posts that always make me see something in a new light. i love you for being a breath of fresh air and being a wonderful presence to see and interact with every day. keep being sweet.

i love you user @heroesbyler for being smart and funny and taking no bullshit from anyone. i love your analysis posts, yes even the unhinged ones because come on, those are the best kinds of analysis and discussion posts. i love you for always thinking outside the box and bringing in such wonderful and interesting discussion points and things to parallel. i love you for your good humor and fun. keep being awesome.

i love you user @foodiewithdahoodie​ for always being a ray of sunshine with your happy cutesy posts (yes this includes cannibal au. what? it’s adorable!) that always make me smile. i love you for your writing and the work that goes into your fics and aus. i love you for being so generous with your love, always making sure people know they’re appreciated. keep being amazing.

i love you user @googoogagaeyes​ for having such a solid head on your shoulders and really admiring the show for what it is. i love you for being astute and objective even when subjective opinions threaten to take over. i love you for being so kind to people who ask you questions or want to discuss something with you. keep being spectacular.

reminder that i love you all very much