#This made me laugh more than the reference in the comics AND the reference in DP2 okay? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luvyeni · 6 months ago

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FUCK MY WIFE ,, 방찬

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ bangchan x fem!reader wc. 3.9k+

genre. neighbor!au, smut

𓄷 includes ... cheating, unprotected sex, oral ( both receiving ), daddy kink

「 authors note 𖹭 」 you don't technically need to read the lee know fic , but it doesn't reference parts from the story so.

❪ masterlist! ❫

chan watched you go inside minhos house; he also saw minho following behind you, like he was on a mission. “hey baby.” he felt the lips of his wife's on his cheek. “hey.” he said looking around for your mother and minhos wife. “Who are you looking for?.” his wife asked, he shook his head. “no one.” he saw them both talking to each other; both of them so unaware of what their daughter and husband were up to. “just looking for the host or hostess.”

“ah she's over there talking to their neighbor that lives across the street from them.” she pointed. “i'm not sure where her husband is though— hey!” she waved as the two ladies approached them. “Mr. and Mrs. Bhang , how are you enjoying the barbecue?” the lady of the house asked him, chan tipped his drink with a smile. “You guys know how to throw a party , and the desserts are amazing.” he complimented. “well that's courtesy of Ms. y/ln here , she owns the bakery as you know.”

“Well you are an amazing baker.” the lady gushed, “thank you.” she said, his wife spoke up. “Hey, where is your husband?” He watched her look around much like he did before , but he knew where he was — and to say he was jealous was an understatement. “Probably inside feeding the cats.” she shrugged it off. “That man and those cats , sometimes I swear he loves them more than me.” she laughed.

“ah! there he is.” She said, the man standing around, his face red but chan didn't comment on it. “I told you those damn cats, I knew it.” she said. “yn seems to be missing as well , that girl probably snook off and went home.” your mother said, chan couldn't believe how oblivious the two were, it was almost comical how right on the nose they were but also so wrong.

both the ladies walking away; leaving him with his wife. “should we get going soon?” he asked, she nodded. “yeah, let me say a few goodbyes to the girls then we can head home.” he nodded , and she was off , he turned back to Minho who was adjusting himself, finally making eye contact; chan just gave him a nod like he knew— lucky fucking bastard.

Chan remembers the first time you came home from college for winter break; it was your freshman year, you were twenty-one years old; coming home from a grueling day at work to see you sitting on his couch; it was a cold day out but you were still wearing the tiniest skirt only with fleece tights, with the tightest long sleeve shirt that made your tits pop.

he couldn't remember why you were there and honestly he didn't care, you were sitting there waiting for his wife; so cute , so carefree— so fuckable. The obvious fuck me eyes you were giving him made his 30+ heart beat; and his cock stirring in his pants. that was the first night he ever fucked his wife.

no it wasn't the first time he ever fucked his wife in general; but it was the first night in a very long time; probably since before they got married all those years ago that he fucked his wife with so much lust and hungry, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of her— but his mind wasn't on his wife; no, he was thinking about you being under him, and him filling your tiny little cunt with his cock.

his wife was none the wiser either; thinking he just finally had a spur of the moment, and she wasn't complaining it was the best sex they had in a while, she was happy— blissfully unaware that her husband was thinking about the young girl down the street while he filled her with his load.

After that he thought it would go back to normal; and it did, you went back to college for the rest of the semester, and his sex life with his wife returned back to normal; slow and mundane , much like before— then you returned back for the summer, it just got worse from there.

Not only did you somehow get hotter over the last few months; now due to the heat you were wearing less and less clothing; miniskirts and shorts so short you didn't even need to bend over for people to see your lacy panties, your tiny crop tops; shiny titties bouncing up and down as you made your way down the hot streets.

Then it was the sunbathing; fuck the sunbathing. he didn't know if you did it for attention or what; and he didn't care he prayed every time he walked his dog that you were out there in the tiniest bikini soaking up the sun; and everytime you were, you'd sit up, lowering your sunglasses, parting your lips as you waved at him, wishing him a good day; he watched you purposely push your titties together— because you knew he was looking at them. that was the second time he fucked his wife, much like he did that winter.

That entire summer; it was like a routine, he'd walk the dog and you were out there in your bikinis; you'd have a small conversation where you'd subtly push your tits together; or your eyes would lower to his cock that knowing you; could see twitching in his shorts, biting your lip before he'd walk away— and then he'd go home and fuck his wife, he fucked his wife so that he wouldn't fuck you.

His wife must've been in heaven the entire summer; but she was surely let down once again when you went back to college for your second year— and their sex life returned back to normal.

“You know Mrs. Lee?” his wife said from their bathroom; bringing him back to reality. they had finally made their way back to their home. “she thinks that girl across the street from them, yn i think that's her name.” she walked into the room “she thinks she's trying to make a move on her husband.”

‘She's not wrong’ chan thought, but he didn't say it out loud. “How so.” he said, not bothering to look up from his phone. “just the little thing she does, the looks she gives him; and how she talks to him, she even said she started the sunbathing again.” he finally looked at his wife. “Sunbathing?” he said; of course he knew what she was talking about. “Yeah , half naked in her front yard, the other wives said it too.” fuck he couldn't wait to walk the dogs again. “that girl, her poor mother is none the wiser either, her daughter parading herself around seducing women's husbands.”

she climbed into bed , moving his phone out his, climbing into his lap. “not my husband though.” she kissed his lips. “My husband isn't desperate enough to fall for a young girl that's looking for attention?.” he groaned as he felt his wife grinding against him. “Mhm of course not.” he didn't move , letting her do what she wanted. “Good, now fuck me.” she moaned out

He flipped her over, slotting himself in-between her legs; his cock hard, from his wife yes; but also from the thought of you into those tiny bikinis, especially that red one; fuck that red one that barely covered your titties, the bottom not even covering your ass. “chan baby fuck me.”

And that he did, but much like all the times before; his mind was on you, how tight your pussy would be, your titties covered in his cum, how loud he would make you scream his name; you you you , that's all was on his mind as he plowed into his wife. “fuck chan, I'm gonna cum.” his wife screamed. “fuck cum.” he pulled out of his cum jerking his cock off, thinking it was you as he came all over her , covering her in his cum. “fuck.”

He quickly finished his wife off , rolling on to his back. “fuck it's been a while since you fucked me like that.” she kissed his cheek. “you even came so much.” She stood up. “Next time do it inside me, it's so messy like this.” he nodded breathlessly as he watched his naked wife walk back into the bathroom. Chan closed his eyes, the vivid image of you still there making his cock hard again. “shit.” he cursed.

Pulling his shorts up; ignoring his hard cock. “you're still hard.” his wife made her return , laying in bed. “What's got you so wound up today?” she asked. “stress probably don't worry it will go down.” she nodded, turning on her side. “Well get some rest.” he hummed. “okay.” he waited until his wife fell into a deep sleep before making his way into the bathroom to jerk off to the thought of you.

The next day; he came home from work and his wife was holding the leash in her hand. “walk the dog.” So before he could even put his things down , he was heading out the door with berry.

After doing his daily walk with the dog , he started on his way home; telling berry about his day. “oh hi Mr. Bahng.” you were coming from across the street; the lee house. “hi yn , going to see Mrs. Lee?” he watched as your eyes widened for a split second , before going back to normal. “yeah, my mother let her borrow a dish and she needed it back.” you lied right through your teeth , and he knew it , but could he really judge you if he wanted to do the same thing. “yeah, where is it?”

“Oh she wasn't home, I asked Mr. Lee but he had no idea what I was talking about.” you said so smoothly; like this was nothing to you. “Guess mommy will have to wait to make those brownies.” you smiled so sweetly, he wondered if you tasted as sweetly as you smiled. “You'll have to bring me some,” he said. “your mother's brownies.”

“Of course.” you toyed with the necklace that sat nice on your titties, he noticed the hickey on top of your left breast , wanting to groan so bad; they probably fit perfectly in his hand. “Mr. Bahng?” you asked. “you okay, you're a little red?” he laughed nervously. “Of course, it's just a little hot out today.” he fanned himself , you pouted. “isn't it?” your whiny voice , he felt his cock move. “I heard it's gonna be like this all week.” you sighed, before perking back up. “but it's perfect for sunbathing.”

You smirked watching his eyes widened a bit. “sunbathing?” he asked. “Yes , it's the perfect weather for it , I might do it tomorrow.” of course you were gonna do it tomorrow; because you knew he'd be by with his dog. “Yeah?” he said, you nodded. “yup!” you bent down slowly, giving him a good peek of your tits. “Hello berry.” you patted the dog's head. “She's so cute.” you looked up at him, giving him the image of what you would look like kneeling in front of him , right before you took him into your mouth. “yeah she is.”

the way he was looking at you made your panties wet; you were ready to go again, even though you had just come back from getting the best fuck of your life from Minho— who's to say you can't get the second best on the same day. “well I should go.” he said , simply because he was losing his mind. “My wife is probably waiting for me.” you nodded. “yeah my mom should be on her way home now, i have to start preparing for dinner.” You gave the dog one last pet before standing up. “Goodnight Mr. Bahng.”

He watched you walk away, your ass peeking from your tiny skirt as you made your way into the house. “Mr. Bhang.” He heard a voice from across the street where Minho stood with a smirk. “Mr. Lee.” He gave a head tilt. “Off to see the wife.” he air quoted the word see. “you know it.” he winked before making his way home— his wife might catch on if he comes home after a walk ready to fuck like a dog in heat.

The next day he once again found himself walking the dog; for a split second, he wondered if his wife knew what she was doing sending him on these walks; but that thought quickly went, of course he would think that his wife was a cuck for the young girl down the block. “Hello Mr. Bahng.”

There you were, laying on a towel in the grass; red bikini, fuck he was really about to cum in his pants. “Hello again.” he gave a little smile. “I see you were true to your word.” you smiled , nodding. “It was so nice out today, I couldn't resist.” you sighed , your tits barely covered. “Oh yeah , my mother got the dish.” you said. “huh?” He questioned. “for the brownies , it turns out it wasn't Mrs. Lee but the couple next to them, the kim's.” he nodded. “Their son Seungmin brought it today.”

“that's good , so your mom will be able to make the brownies then.” you nodded , sitting up , now giving him a full view of your tits as you sat back on your hands. “yup , she's making them now.” You said. “I can bring you some tomorrow if you'd like.” You tilted your head to the side. “I'm sure your wife would enjoy them.”

“Oh yeah for sure,” he said. “I would like that very much.” you hummed. “okay!” You smiled. “See you then.” you waved , before turning back on your stomach , the view of your ass; the bottom's barely doing anything. “fuck.” he cursed as the dog began to pull at the leash. “come on berry.” he gave your ass one last peek before continuing down the block.

“Fuck baby if you keep fucking me like this I don't think I'll be able to keep up.” he rolled off of his naked wife. “Where are you getting this energy from all of a sudden?” He smiled , pulling his shorts back up. “Just love for my wife.” and the lust for you; the need to fuck you. “mhm i like it.” she smiled.

“i'm going to visit my mother tomorrow.” his wife spoke up. “yeah, when?” he said. “I'll leave tomorrow and I'll return within two days.” she said. “I’ve prepared the food for those two days, just heat it up and eat.” he thanked her. “Oh and the lady down the street has some treats she said she'll bring them as well, you better save me some.” He completely forgot about that; you did say you'd be by— he thought his wife would be here; to stop him from taking you right there in the living room. “She'll be here in the afternoon.” He nodded , tomorrow may just be the day he gives in. “okay.”

He waited for you the entire day; he knew you were coming and he was ready, he made a decision the night before; if giving the opportunity he was gonna fuck you; he knew it was wrong, his wife did satisfy him , but it was clear his thoughts of you were infiltrating his mind; and it wasn't getting any easier. maybe this would be the first and last time , maybe he just needed to get it out of his system — he tried to justify himself, just as he heard a knock on the door.

He opened the door; and there you stood, your daily outfit that consisted of a skirt too short and a shirt too tight— this most definitely wasn't gonna be the last time. “I bought the brownies.” you smiled.

“So you slept with the neighbor across the street?” jisung asked, you nodded. “it was good too.” he scrunched his nose up. “didn't ask , but now you're going after the guy down the street?” he asked. “Who's also married?” you shrugged. “Babe, your mother still has to live on that block.” he said. “Yeah , I've had your mother's cooking and it's phenomenal.” Felix started. “but I don't think even the most chocolatiest of brownies can be made to fix this fuck up if people find out.”

“trust me they won't.” You said. “Once again I feel like I'm inclined to stop you as your best friend, but as someone who loves drama , I kinda wanna see where this goes with these two guys just for the plot.” you laughed watching Felix scolded his boyfriend. “Be careful yn.” He said , his hands yanking at jisungs hair. “and don't get pregnant.”

After hanging up with them you made your way downstairs where your mother had the brownies already packaged up for you to take; this allows you to go back to retrieve the pan once he's finished; if you're successful with your plans today, hopefully this will be soon. “Perfect.”

You made your way down the street; standing in front of the house , walking up the walkway, anticipating bubbling up in your stomach as you knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer; putting your best smile on as he opened the door. “I brought the brownies.” he smiled; fuck he looked good, a plain white tank top and black shorts, so simple, but so fucking attractive. “Come in.”

You walked past him; his eyes following you as you walked into his house; closing the door before looking out making sure no one saw; that was the last thing he needed. “You can sit them on the counter in the kitchen.” He followed behind you , watching your ass move, you sat the treats down , turning around where he was standing in front of you. “Mr. Bahng?”

you were taken aback but not surprised when he pushed you against the counter, grabbing both sides of your face; kissing harshly, his hand coming down to your ass squeezing. “oh fuck.” you moaned as he roughly grabbed your tits, grinding his hard cock against you. “fu-fuck you see what do to me?” you reached down grabbing his cock in his shorts. “I did this?” you bit your lip. “you want to fuck me that bad?”

he groaned as you palmed him through his shorts. “fu-uck been thinking about this for a year.” he groaned. “making you take my fat cock down your throat.” he groaned. “yeah? wanna cum all over my face?” you brought your lips to his ear. “cover me in your cum -fuck- i wanna taste you so bad.” you said biting down. “fill my mouth with your cum.”

“Fuck.” he pulled away from your, the look on your face made him move quickly , pushing his pants down to his ankle right there in the kitchen. “on your knees princess.” you sunk down to your knees. “gonna -fuck- gonna suck my fat cock?” he groaned , stroking his cock right in front of your face, your mouth watered. “yes.” he smiled , grabbing the back of your head. “open up princess.”

he filled your mouth up, throwing his head back, holding on the counter as you took him into your mouth. “that's it, suck daddy's cock.” you moaned around his length, your panties sticking to your cunt as you bobbed your head up and down his length. “feels so fucking good.” he moaned. “gonna cum all over your face.”

it was the best experience he'd experienced in a while; his wife wasn't the biggest fan of giving head; so he almost never got it and when he did, it was half-assed. “sh-shit.” the way your throat tightened around his pulsing length , the gagging noises coming from your mouth , eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. “fuck I'm gonna cum.”

He thrusted into your mouth a few more times , before pulling out. “open your mouth princess.” he stroked his cock , hips twitching as the cum shot from his tip landing all over your face. “oh fuck!”

you smiled , holding your mouth open as his cum hit the back of your throat. “taste good, baby? you like my cum that much.” you nodded , he lifted you up onto the counter. “wanna taste this pussy so bad.” he lifted your skirt. “wet fucking cunt.” he groaned. “yeah , you think about my pussy when fucking your wife?” he grunted , biting your thigh. “fuck!” you yelped , moaning as he licked your cunt. “sweet fucking pussy.”

your hands tangled up in his hair as he tongue fucked you on the counter where he most likely shared food with his wife. “Oh fuck daddy that feels good.” you fucked yourself on his tongue, his nose bumping against your clit deliciously, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “fuck I'm gonna cum , i'm gonna fucking cum.” you squealed. “fuck!” you came all over his face , hips jutting against his face riding out your high.

he pulled away, giving your clit little kisses before pulling away. “You liked that princess?” you smiled , nodding. “so much.” He lifted his shirt over his head, revealing his abs. “fuck.” you moaned, running your hands down his stomach, stomach churning in need for him again. “pl-please fuck me daddy.”

“fuck, you want daddy's cock?” he grabbed the base of his cock on your folds. “ye-yeah , fuck me please.” you moaned. “pl-please fuck me.” he slid into your slippery cunt. “oh fuck your pussy is sucking me in.” you moaned. “you-you're so big.”

he huffed with a smile, “yeah? my cock stretching your tiny pussy?” he moaned. “fuck , slutty pussy.” he grabbed your hips. “just let anyone fuck you.” he began to plow into your cunt. “me , Minho -fuck- just love fucking men that aren't yours.” you moaned out. “fuck yes!” you screamed. “I love it.”

“I know you do, slut.” he slapped your tits, pinching your nipples. “gonna cum inside this pussy.” you gasped as he thrusted up into you, hitting your g-spot making your mouth hang open as he hit it over and over. “oh fuck you look so fucked out , gonna cum for daddy?” he rubbed your clit. “hmm?” you nodded. “fuck yes, i'm gonna cum.”

“fucking cum for daddy.” he slapped your pussy , moving his fingers back and forth as your juices gushed out of you, coating his abs in your cum. “fuck i'm cumming.” he groaned. “daddy's gonna fill you up.” he grunted. “fuck!” he cursed, stilling his hips as he came, filling your warm hole with his sperm. “shit.” he slowly pulled out, watching the cum leak from your hole. “Keep it inside princess.” he pushed it back inside you. “good girl.”

“Do they taste good?” you straddled his waist, feeding him a piece of brownie , the both of you now in his bed; you were wearing one of his shirts. “mhm.” he moaned at the taste. “So good princess.” you smiled , wiping the chocolate from his plump lips, licking it off your thumb. “When will your wife be back?” You asked , he rubbed your waist. “tomorrow evening.” you hummed. “perfect.” you bent down, kissing his neck. “fuck princess don't leave any marks.”

“I know.” you whispered against his skin. “you can fuck me over and over.” leaving more kisses along his neck. “until your wife gets back.” he hummed. “fuck yeah.” he moaned as you grinded your hips down.

yeah he knew he could no longer fuck his wife to get you out of his mind.

©️LUVYENI

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thebettybook · 1 year ago

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The hunter who reached for the star

🏴‍☠️————————-💚-————————🏴‍☠️

Characters: OPLA (One Piece Live Action) Roronoa Zoro x Straw-Hat-Crew-Member!gn!reader. This fic is written in Zoro’s point of view

Summary: Reader gets an idea to draw portraits of the Straw Hat crew. While the other crew members make the portrait sessions fun and chaotic, Zoro takes it as a chance to spend more time with Reader

Warnings: Mild cursing from Zoro. Sanji cheekily references the “draw me like one of your French girls” line from Titanic for laughs. Other than that, all fluff

Strawbetty’s notes: Y’all were so sweet with my OPLA Zoro crush headcanons post so here’s a oneshot as my thanks :)🫶

🏴‍☠️————————-💚-————————🏴‍☠️

Zoro sat at the far right end of the tiny dining table in the Going Merry’s kitchen. Despite being surrounded by his fellow Straw Hats, Zoro had his eyes closed and his arms loosely crossed in front of his torso.

Like at most mealtimes, the other crew members were far too engaged in their lively chatter and harmless bickering to notice that Zoro was trying to sleep.

Instead of dozing off, Zoro could only think about the conversation he had with you last night—how the two of you, both unable to fall asleep, gazed up at the stars.

Every word, every sensation, replayed in his mind—from the midnight waves that lulled the ship to the way his name softly rolled off your tongue like a siren’s song—

“Zoro.”

He heard you call his name at the table, pulling him from his recollections. His thin, dark eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t crack his eyes open. He was too tired to do so.

“Zoroooo!” Luffy stretched his neck from his seat at the head of the table to the end of the table where Zoro sat. The captain didn't hesitate to place his mouth right next to Zoro's left ear. “WAKE UP!”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed just a bit as Luffy’s voice pierced his ears. The stoic swordsman opened his eyes, his brown orbs glittering with annoyance. “I’m awake.”

Luffy cackled before snapping his head back in place and turning his attention back to his breakfast of potato bacon soup with a loaf of bread.

“Good morning, Zoro,” your smile, albeit sheepish, eased Zoro’s fatigue a bit. “We were talking about how it would be nice to have official portraits of ourselves, so I offered to draw everyone’s portraits after we all finish eating.”

“I’ll practice my poses!” Usopp chimed in, comically pursing his lips and sucking in his cheekbones to appear like a model. “You know what I always say, if I didn’t join this crew, I would’ve been a model by now.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Zoro couldn’t help but respond with his usual sarcasm, earning him an offended look amped up for dramatics from Usopp.

“Would you like to have your portrait drawn, too, Zoro?” You leaned forward with your elbows resting on the table, giving him a hopeful smile.

Even though Zoro didn’t really care for having his portrait done, and even though he would usually say “no” at any given chance to anyone concerning anything, there was no way Zoro could say “no” to you.

Plus, you drawing his portrait would mean the two of you would get to spend more quality time together. No way would Zoro pass up that chance.

“Mm,” Zoro answered, his voice rumbling an octave lower due to his drowsiness. “I’ll go last.”

Despite Zoro’s nonchalant attitude, his heartbeat quickened when he saw your smile widen.

— — — — —

The setting you chose was a blue-and-white-striped seating area between two rectangular ivory windows in the main room that provided the area with ample lighting from the sun outside.

Zoro watched you pull up a chair a few feet away in front of the seating area for you to sit on while you would draw your portraits. As you placed your drawing papers and pencils on the pool table next to you, Zoro made his way to the far corner of the room to rest on a cushioned bench underneath a circular window.

With one leg propped up, Zoro shifted to get comfortable on the bench and rested his left arm across his torso.

Finally. Zoro shut his eyes, but his ears couldn't shut out the voices of everyone around him.

The first person you drew was Luffy, who would ask you a fleet of questions like “What do you think we’re gonna see at the next island?” or “Wanna know about the craziest dream I had last night?”.

As much as Zoro was (endearingly) used to Luffy’s enthusiasm by now, Zoro contemplated leaving to get some peace and quiet in his own room. He was about to open his eyes and do so before he heard your laugh.

“Luffy! Stop changing your face!” You giggled at how Luffy stretched his mouth out a mile wide.

“What? I’m trying to give you the biggest smile I can!” Luffy’s words jumbled together with his mouth still wide open, only making you laugh more.

That melodic laugh of yours was one Zoro could listen to all day and night no matter how tired he was. He continued to sit on the bench, but his eyes were now open and fixed on you and the rest of the crew around you.

The next person you drew was Usopp, who kept twisting and turning his face and body in hopes of looking like a supermodel.

“Just relax, Usopp,” you chuckled, putting your pencil down.

“I can’t relax,” Usopp threw his head back dramatically. “I’m Usopp, Supermodel of the Seven Seas. Make sure to get both of my good sides.”

Pfft. Zoro let out an amused huff under his breath at the same time you rolled your eyes at Usopp, who simply shot you a cheesy grin.

After Usopp was Sanji, who took off his pink chef’s apron from making brunch to don his usual black suit blazer over a striped blue dress shirt and black pants.

The first thing Sanji did was lay sideways on the couch with his body facing towards you. He propped an elbow up and rested the side of his head on his palm.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” the cheeky chef winked at you, snickering at his own playfulness that betrayed his flirty facade.

“If you say that again, I’m throwing you overboard with nothing to save you but a door to float on,” you threatened, but you couldn’t help but cackle.

Your portrait session with Sanji couldn’t end soon enough. Zoro felt his usual mild annoyance towards the cook grow as he watched you and Sanji exchange popular references like they were your and Sanji’s inside jokes.

Luckily for Zoro, in a matter of minutes, you finished Sanji’s portrait and began drawing Nami. The Straw Hat’s navigator sat straight with perfect posture, and donned a sincere smile that softened her usual serious expression.

While Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji already had their portraits done, they stayed to hang out. The three of them pulled up chairs to the pool table, each taking one of your extra drawing papers and pencils to draw something of their own.

Luffy and Usopp’s eyes were fixed on their papers. Zoro guessed with a small smile that Luffy was probably drawing something food-related while Usopp was probably drawing himself.

Sanji, on the other hand, had his gaze fixed on Nami. Sanji was skilled and swift with his pencil strokes as he was with a chef’s knife, and anyone who looked at him at that moment would see a smile of genuine admiration on his face as he studied Nami.

Zoro turned his attention from the others back to you. He noted the way your gaze would shift between your paper and Nami as you sketched her.

He also noticed the slight pout your lips formed when you were completely in your element, focused on capturing the subject onto your paper.

The six of you fell into comfortable silence, and Zoro chose not to make any large movements as he basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun that glimmered into the room through the windows.

It was a rare moment like this where the entire crew was together in one room, not laughing or bickering or talking, but simply enjoying each other’s presence.

— — — — —

Zoro didn’t hesitate to get off the bench and make his way over to you once you handed Nami her portrait. He rotated one of his arms, trying to get out any kinks from his shoulder blades.

Unfortunately for Zoro, Sanji was the first to notice him.

“Looks like someone didn’t get enough beauty sleep in time for his portrait,” Sanji teased, earning a mild glare from Zoro.

The rest of the crew chortled in good nature, and before Zoro could respond with a biting comeback, you blurted out, “Zoro always looks good, though.”

Zoro barely had time to register what you just said, even when you covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment.

Sanji, Usopp, and Nami quickly displayed all-knowing smirks on their faces, while Luffy piped up, “Sanji, I’m hungry and I wanna eat a snack.”

Zoro subtly sucked in the inside of his right cheek to stop himself from smiling at your statement right then and there. If he smiled, he’d never hear the end of it from the others.

“Ok, everyone who’s had their portraits done, out,” you turned your back to the crew, fumbling with your pencils and papers on the pool table. “And yes, go eat snacks or something.”

“Ok!” Nami, Usopp, Sanji, and Luffy all saluted you at the same time. The first three shared a mischievous look before all four of them skedaddled out of the room.

Once they all left, Zoro’s lips eased into the smallest of soft smiles as he made his way to stand next to you.

Zoro couldn’t decide between saying “Hey” or “What’s up?” to sound cool now that the two of you were alone, so he bent down slightly, peering at the portraits you drew of Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji that they had forgotten to take with them.

Zoro didn’t know much about art, nor did he have much of an eye for it, but even he could tell you were good at it. His eyes followed the charcoal lines of the three crew members’ features—Luffy’s scar, Usopp’s dimples, and Sanji’s stubble—and how perfectly you captured them on paper.

“Nice,” Zoro murmured. His eyes moved up from the portraits to you, only to find your eyes already on him.

“Thanks,” you gave him a grateful smile, fiddling with the pencil between your fingers.

“Where do you want me to be?” Zoro straightened up, but his eyes never left yours.

“You can sit right there between the windows,” you broke his gaze and pointed to the spot.

Zoro nodded, going over to the seating area between the two windows. He removed his three swords from the leather strap at his hips to sit down.

Instead of placing his swords to the side or on the floor, Zoro wrapped his right arm around his swords, his bicep flexing as he did so.

In his natural sitting position, Zoro sat up straight, his posture perfect from years of training as a swordsman. However, he wanted to appear casual, so he rested his left leg over his right and put his left hand in his pant pocket.

“Can you draw my swords, too?” Zoro’s eyes flicked back to yours.

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled, plopping down onto your chair with a blank piece of paper and your pencil ready.

Zoro then noticed the charcoal pencil smudges that caked your fingertips. He realized that throughout all the portrait sessions, you never once took a break.

He cleared his throat. “You should take a break.”

“What for?” Your eyebrows lifted in confusion.

“Just noticed you haven’t taken a break since you began drawing us,” Zoro stated. His tone came out flat but the way his eyes softened at you conveyed his care. “Go drink some water, or wash your hands, or something.”

Zoro didn’t realize that he probably sounded more blunt than he meant to, but your eyes only flew down to your hands.

“I’m good, but thank you for thinking of me,” you cracked a huge smile. “Actually, wanna hear a fun fact about me?”

Zoro nodded. He found himself curious that you didn’t wipe away or wash off the pencil smudges on your hands yet.

“I like keeping pencil smudges on my fingers until I’m done with a drawing or an art project,” you gently rubbed one of your fingertips, but the charcoal smudges remained. “It’s like marks that show I put my best effort into what I drew.”

“I get it,” Zoro glanced down at his left palm, which had hardened over the years from calluses he gained from swordsman training. “That’s how I feel about my calluses.”

He couldn’t contain a chuckle when you leaned forward in your seat, your eyes widening with intrigue as he held out his left palm to you.

The skin of his palm was rough, battered with Zoro’s badges of honor that were his calluses. He never really looked at his calluses much, but the way you marveled at them like the stars you marveled at last night made Zoro’s chest puff up a bit with pride.

“Very cool,” you grinned, leaning back in your seat. “Are you ready to get your portrait drawn, Roronoa Zoro with the cool hand calluses?”

An easy laugh escaped Zoro’s lips as he sat up a bit and repositioned his hands to his former pose. “Yep.”

You turned your focus to your paper and pencil, and your head tilted downwards a bit as you brought your pencil down to the paper.

Before you could begin your sketching, Zoro racked his brain for anything witty or funny to say, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having this alone time with you.

“Don’t get my bad side,” Zoro joked, but his words accidentally came out as serious with the stoic expression he kept for his portrait pose.

“You don’t even have a bad side,” you murmured without hesitation, your eyes still fixed on the paper as you began drawing him.

Zoro’s lips broke into the widest grin he had on all day. He turned his head to the right in an effort to hide his flustered expression, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from turning upwards and his eyebrows from lifting.

“Shit,” Zoro mumbled as low as he could, but his growing smile and movements utterly betrayed him.

“Ack, Zoro! Don’t move!” You grumbled at him.

Zoro hid his face in his right shoulder. Both of his shoulders shook as he let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ll never get your portrait done at this rate,” you huffed.

“Good,” Zoro replied with nonchalant defiance. He turned his face back towards you, peeking at you from underneath his eyelashes as you turned your gaze back to your paper.

Zoro’s eyes first saw how the sunlight hit your face, how the gold flecks of light saturated your irises and illuminated every imperfection on your face he thought was perfect.

If Zoro could draw half as well as you could, he wouldn’t hesitate to draw you right then and there.

He wasn’t the artist, but here he was, studying you—taking in every upward quirk of your lips, every back-and-forth of your gaze from your paper to him, every movement you made—and trying his best to capture them all with the sharp pencil that was his memory.

It was only the two of you in the room, and you were only a few feet away in front of him, but Zoro couldn’t help but feel that you were so far away from him.

With the comfortable silence between you two, Zoro’s mind filled with the conversation he had with you last night.

— — — — —

“That’s Orion’s Belt,” you had pointed up to a constellation made of three stars last night. “Those three bright stars.”

Zoro turned his eyes up to follow your finger. “Who’s Orion?”

“Supposedly a demigod huntsman who passed and was placed up in the stars,” you hummed. “Wait, you’re kinda like Orion! With being a former pirate HUNTER and having THREE swords.”

Zoro brought his gaze back down from the stars to you.

“That’s a reach,” he scoffed. Zoro took a leisurely step back, the wooden floorboard of the Going Merry creaking a bit under the weight of his boots.

A crooked smirk glimmered on his face as he reached his hand up to the direction of Orion to humor you. “Literally.”

You chuckled, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Really? I thought there wasn’t anything Roronoa Zoro couldn’t do. Even reach for the stars.”

He wasn’t one to care for fluffy words or compliments, but your comment—and the way you spoke with such faith and confidence in him—sparked meteor showers in Zoro’s heart.

Zoro tried to avoid touching the back of his ears, which grew as hot as the stars. He shifted his body to rest his palms against the polished wooden railing of the Going Merry.

“Why do people like looking at things that are far away?” His eyebrows furrowed up at the stars in an attempt to change the subject.

“I think it’s because since the stars are so far away, all anyone can do is look at them and try to draw them,” you gazed up at the sky. “To capture that moment of seeing something that feels so far away from you but is so beautiful that you can’t help but want it near you.”

— — — — —

Zoro remembered not really understanding your words last night about people’s fascination with stars.

He didn’t get why people would yearn for something they couldn’t have.

Now, watching you as you drew him in daylight, Zoro understood what you meant.

You were physically near him a lot, bright and warm like a star he found himself wanting to get closer to, only to be reminded of the possibility that seemed as wide as a light-year that you might not feel the same.

He was lucky and he wasn’t. He could admire you up close but he had to keep his romantic feelings for you at bay.

Wait, scratch that.

Zoro was never one to believe in luck.

At his core, he was one to never back down from a challenge—to fight for what he wanted.

He didn’t know how you felt about him other than you regarded him as a close friend like he did with you, so there was a possibility he could get rejected.

Thus, Zoro’s pride from not wanting to get hurt prevented him from outright asking you right then and there if you liked him, too.

For now, Zoro would fight his pride with every chance he could get to spend more time with you—to build up his courage to confess his feelings to you someday.

To reach for the star.

And if that meant moving and messing up during this portrait session to lengthen his time with you, he’d do it again and again.

Zoro bided his time before he decided to part his lips.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

“What is?” You inquired, not stopping your hand with the pencil.

“A star,” Zoro didn’t hesitate to answer, knowing his reply was so bizarre it would get your attention.

And it did, as your eyebrows scrunched together and your head flew to the sides to look for a star outside the windows or one that miraculously appeared near you and Zoro somehow.

“Which one? And where?”

A genuine chuckle escaped from his lips, turning your eyes back to his. He hoped his next words would anchor your attention on him.

“The one right in front of me.”

🏴‍☠️————————-💚-————————🏴‍☠️

Important

🍓 I don’t own any of the characters I mention or write about; they belong to their original and respective creators.

🍓 All content on this blog is created by me, @thebettybook (excluding posts I reblog that aren’t my own posts and unless I state otherwise). Do not modify, claim, repost, or translate my work onto this platform and any other platform.

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🏴‍☠️————————-💚-————————🏴‍☠️

#roronoa zoro #zoro #zoro roronoa #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece zoro #one piece live action #one piece live action x reader #opla #opla roronoa zoro #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #zoro live action #zoro live action x reader

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curiouspupsicle · 9 days ago

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Fan Fiction Recommendations - Pinned Post

Thought it might be helpful to save links to my weekly fan fic recommendations. Organized by theme, each post gives you the rating and enough information to give you an idea of whether it's a good choice for you to read. And you'll find more great suggestions in the comments and reblogs. Just one more option for a fan fic reference desk. Scroll down for links--oldest first.

2024

11/8/24 - Fics that Made Me LOL - These are the funniest fics; the ones that actually had me laughing out loud. I'll definitely need to revisit this theme. So many to add to the list.

11/15/24 - Current Best of the Best - Snapshot of my absolute favorite fics at this moment in time. Fics I loved and can't imagine ever forgetting.

11/22/24 - Human AUs - These are the fics that finally convinced me to read our ineffable pair depicted as humans. And I've never looked back.

11/28/24 - Banter - Who doesn't love saucy banter? Here are my fave stories with witty dialogue.

12/6/24 - Illustrated Stories - It's in the name. These include comics and traditional fics with illustrations.

12/13/24 - Smooth Criminals - Fics that involve criminal undertakings.

12/20/24 - Christmas - I limit myself to one, very special Christmas fic. Hard to imagine any story better than this one.

12/27/24 - Through the Ages - Do you really need an explanation? My fave fics that show our ineffable pair in different time periods.

2025

1/3/25 - The Bentley - Fics in which our favorite sentient car gets her due.

1/10/25 - "Mixed" AUs - Stories in which one of the ineffable pair is mortal and the other is supernatural.

1/17/25 - Animal Shenanigans, pt 1 - Fics in which animals play an important role.

1/24/25 - Animal Shenanigans, pt 2 - One week was not enough to contain so many charming, animal-centric fics.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanart #fan fiction #fan fiction recommendations #go fan fic rec #go fan fic recs #go fan fiction recommendations #good omens fan fiction rec #to read #read later #to read later #reading list #rec list

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randomshyperson · 1 year ago

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R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time.

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission.

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device.

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for.

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs.

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you.

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you.

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?"

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up.

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?"

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again.

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?"

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff series #elizabeth olsen x reader

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bun-z-bakery · 7 months ago

Note

what if dogday got into baking? , maybe you could try writing about him learning to baking stuff?

✧. ┊𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝛢𝑤𝑎𝑦

A/N: This was such a cute ask! I hope you enjoy! This ones short but still sweet!^^

Making sure Dogday was out of the kitchen was your top priority during mealtimes.

You know he means well, but you didn't want to run the risk of him breaking more plates or setting anything on fire… again.

You sat outside on the grass, enjoying the fresh air and nice breeze on your skin.

Dogday decided to sleep in, Poppy and Kissy wandered around looking for flowers which meant you had some much needed alone time.

The sound of pots crashing made you jump to your feet. Quickly you rushed inside and called out for Dogday.

“I-In here.”

You rush to the kitchen, stopping at the doorway as you take in the mess.

“Angel, before you get mad-”

You couldn't help but laugh.

Dogday stares at you with a confused expression and tilts his head.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn't be mad when he's covered in flour and holding a tiny whisk in his giant hand.

“Anddd what have you been up to?”

You snort as you get closer and dust some flour off of his nose.

“Angel I'm sorry, I'll help you clean up…”

He sighs in defeat.

You noticed he was standing oddly and quickly tickled his sides, making him squirm in the process.

“Dogday what's this?”

You hold up the baking book you never remembered buying.

It was slightly sticky from the batter but the pages were still very noticeably new.

“it gets boring here… And wanted to learn something that might lessen some of your responsibilities…”

He looks like a puppy that's being reprimanded. You couldn't help but chuckle.

Adorable.

You thought to yourself.

“Dogday I'm not mad I'm happy you're trying something new! A $20 book on the other hand-”

“$20?!”

“Tell you what,”

You skim through the pages while he curiously hovers over you. You slam your finger down on the page that had the most delicious looking cake in the photo reference.

“Make this and if it tastes good then I'll let you off the hook!”

Your proposition seemed to have made him perk up.

He grabs onto his tail to avoid any more damage to the kitchen.

“Alright deal! Let me work my magic.”

He points the comically tiny whisk at you and you raise your hands in defeat.

“Alright alright, I'll be on standby.”

You joke as you leave him to his experiment.

Throughout his time in the kitchen, the sound of pots and spoons falling and the smell of something burning made you question if letting him bake would lead to a house fire.

“Sunshine, how's it go-”

You look around the kitchen, your mouth agape.

“You act like I don't clean up after myself.”

He shakes his head in disbelief with the little faith you had in him.

The kitchen was almost spotless, impressive was an understatement.

He motions towards the cake he had made and calls out to the others for a taste.

“Wow it smells great Dogday!”

Poppy exclaims as soon as she and Kissy walk in.

“It does smell pretty promising!”

You agree before taking a seat at the table.

Once everyone is served and seated, you begin to inspect the cake. It seemed well made and you were eager to taste it now.

“Alright on the count of 3!”

You say as you four hold a piece of cake near your mouths.

“3,2,1!”

“...”

“It's… good?”

Your words instantly shift his mood.

His tail begins to wag as he continues to eat his slice.

“Does this mean I can help out in the kitchen?!”

Dogday’s eyes light up. Seeing him heartbroken after such an accomplishment would crush you.

“Fine, if you can keep the mess to a minimum.”

“Deal!”

A/N: I got my PC back!! this is my first post using my pc and wow is it 10 times easier than on my phone. I've been a bit busy recently but keep sending in requests! I'm still working on a few projects and will post them hopefully soon! If you read this far dont forget to reblog and like <3

#Dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #Smiling critters dogday #bun z receipt #I wanna write more of dogday doing domestic stuff #i love him so much sksks

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sleepynoons · 2 months ago

Text

YABA BY FUJII KAZE – umemiya hajime (wbk) x gn!reader, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~3,000 warnings – characters aged up, references to previous toxic/abusive romantic relationships, description of physical injuries, overstimulation synopsis – you and umemiya rarely fight. but a problem's been brewing for a while now, and it's finally hit its boiling point. is this the end of your relationship?

“You know you don’t have to come every day.”

A laugh follows �� bright, energetic, a refreshing sound to lighten your dreary day.

“But I want to!”

Shaking your head, you hang your work bag on his outstretched arm before the two of you begin to walk away from your office.

The commute is not too long, only a few train stops and blocks away from your place. But your boyfriend, Hajime, lives in the opposite direction, so the trip back to his is always twice as long for him after he accompanies you home. It’s a very kind gesture, of course, and you appreciate getting to see his enthusiastic self more often than not, but the guilt has been gnawing at you.

You suggest, “How about you just drop me off at the platform tonight?”

Your boyfriend immediately deflates at the idea and pouts, discontent whimpers escaping his downturned lips. “I was actually going to ask you to come to my place.”

You startle at his confession. It’s always been Hajime coming over to yours that you had practically forgotten the option that you can drop him off for once.

“O-oh, yeah, sure! Sorry, Ume, I didn’t know you made plans for us!”

Delighted, Hajime shoots back up in posture and grabs you by the hand to drag you to the train station.

Throughout the train ride, he fills you in on the details of his day. Hajime works at the botanical garden near the middle of the city, and is currently on his rotation in the lush greenhouse that hosts various trees, flowers, and other flora. He tells you about a crow that somehow found its way inside, a successful cultivation of a once-dying plant, his coworker slipping in a murky puddle that led to the discovery of a broken, leaking pipe.

You think his job's very fitting. For someone as abundant with care and love as he is, it makes sense that his career reflects that vital part of himself. The few times you have stayed overnight at his place, you would wake up and catch him out of bed, already by the windows spraying water and wiping leaves, all with a contented, satisfied look on his face.

“We also got these keychains at work today!”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two key rings, each attached with a small wooden plaque. You flip one of the plaques over to see your name engraved into the wood.

You gasp, hands flying to your cheeks. “These are so adorable!”

“Right?” He grins, pearly whites almost blinding you, and drops yours into your lap.

“Where should I hang it?” you wonder aloud. As soon as those words escape, though, you feel Hajime freeze beside you.

You glance at him. “Ume?”

Your boyfriend has never been a great liar, but from the strained look on his face, it’s more than obvious that he’s hiding something.

Bumping his shoulder, you ask again, “Hello? Earth to Umemiya Hajime?”

He whines as he says, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“The keychains?”

“No… Something else…”

You chuckle. “You don’t have to spoil it yet, then, but you’re going to have to explain what’s going on as soon as we get to your place.”

Comically dramatic, Hajime releases a loud sigh and relaxes back in his seat before he perks right up again, rambling on about another story he overheard from work.

As soon as the two of you step out of the station, you shiver at the biting cold. It doesn’t help that the wind is strong as well, and you can only imagine how much colder and more annoying it must have been for Hajime to return home later all those nights because of you. The two of you speed to his apartment, keeping the lower halves of your faces buried in your scarves, and zoom up the stairs of the complex until the two of you finally arrive in front of his door.

The heater’s already on inside, and you shudder as you feel the icy sting at your cheeks melt away in contact with the warm, buttery temperature. Hajime matches your expression and sings happily as he toes his shoes off and drops your bag on top of the shoe rack. He then helps you unwind, unraveling your scarf around your neck and helping you slide off your heavy, wool coat, and gently folds and places them on top of your bag.

“I’ll warm up dinner, so take your time,” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards the kitchen.

You kick your shoes off and head inside his bathroom, where you take a quick breather. Not that you have an opinion on surprises or that Hajime’s unromantic – he is, very much –, but it has been a while since the last time either of you have planned anything spontaneous for the other. You wonder what it is that your boyfriend has in mind.

By the time you come out, Hajime’s already under the kotatsu, peeling a tangerine as he waits for you.

“You brought it out!” you exclaim.

He nods while giggling at your reaction. “It’s cold today, so I figured.”

You sit down next to him, thanking him with a few gracious kisses on his cheek. “Alright, then. Ume, time’s up.”

He laughs but shakes his head. “You should eat first!”

You lean over to put your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with a slight huff. “You can’t keep stalling, Ume!”

You continue to stare at him, wide-eyed and a little desperate, while he does his best to avoid looking back at you. Surprisingly, after a few more seconds, your boyfriend still doesn’t budge or relent, despite his usual impulse to give in.

“Fine,” you sigh, shoulders drooping in disappointment. You sit back up, but with a softer voice, you mumble, “Just tell me if it’s good or bad news.”

At that, Hajime breaks. He wraps his arms around you and embraces you tightly.

“Of course, it’s good!” he exclaims. He’s looking at you seriously, his eyes flaring with grey sparks of excitement and delight. “Well, it’s not really news. I just wanted to ask you to move in with me.”

You gape, chin dropping and mouth opening in surprise.

He’s holding you by the shoulders, and looks more serious than he was before. “I think it’d be great! I get to see you every day, and we wouldn’t have to worry about making time for each. What do you think?”

You think his hands feel a little too heavy, a little too tight. The stars in his eyes seem to sparkle even brighter, and you almost wince at how electrifying – a little too much, really – his stare is. Then, there’s also how close he is to you, and combined with the heater, it’s a little too sweltering for you.

The more you try to think, to come up with some response, to find it in you to want to say “yes,” the more “a little” becomes “too much.”

Hajime tilts his head, leaning even closer until his forehead brushes against yours. His hand comes up to your cheek and whispers, “Do you want to live with me?”

The slight sheen of sweat from his palm against your face, the feel of his breath against your skin, the dilation of his pupils –

It’s too much.

Out of sheer instinct, you push him away, hard and forceful hands against his chest. The recoil of the movement forces both of you back a little, and you’re both shocked.

But within a heartbeat, numbing surprise is replaced by sheer humiliation. Heat travels to your head and neck, and now, it’s beyond too much. You scramble to your feet, grunting when you knock your arms and knees against the frames of the kotatsu, and dash out of the living room to the front entrance, barely caring to slide your work shoes on properly. You hear your boyfriend yell out something that you can’t quite decipher through the throbbing that deafens your ears, and you think you respond with a blubber of an apology, but all of that doesn’t matter much anymore when you’re sprinting out of Hajime’s apartment.

You don’t know where you are. You just avoid people and bright lights, and continue to run, run, run until you quite literally can’t.

You don’t know how many blocks you’ve traversed or what area of the neighborhood you’re in when you stop, hands flying to rest at your bent knees as you wheeze to breath. Hell, you haven’t been at Hajime’s place often enough to know the area he lives in the first place. All you can tell is that you’re next to a children’s park where the street lights are flickering and the surrounding houses are quiet, save for a few barking dogs. You only stopped here because you feel nauseated. You continue to dry-heave and lean against an adjacent rail, aching to feel the icy metal counter the burning at your fingertips.

You’re heated – from embarrassment or overstimulation, probably both – that you can’t even feel the cold through your thin work shirt and suit pants. You wish you could, though, because you’d do anything to feel different, to snap yourself out of whatever it is that’s possessing you.

Squatting down to the ground, you continue to gasp until your lungs no longer feel like they’re going to give out, eventually transitioning to the lingering sensation of a dry, aching throat. Your head is spinning less, and it’s only becoming more and more apparent to you that you’re in a terrible position.

You have no idea where you are right now, and without a phone, you can’t navigate your way back. The sweat that clings to your skin and dampens your clothes is becoming increasingly uncomfortable, causing you to shiver as it chills with the temperature. With enough wandering, you probably could find Hajime’s place, but deep down, something in your heart stubbornly refuses to let you return to safety and comfort.

When did you become like this?

You bite down on your lip. Ever since you started dating Hajime, you’ve refused to let yourself think back, instead willing yourself to face forward and move past the raised voices, tight grips on bruised wrists, and hot flashes of pain from reddened skin that had plagued you before. Because Hajime isn’t like others.

He’s charismatic, boyishly charming, and very optimistic. He has calloused hands, yet they’re the softest pair you’ve ever held. He gives you the tightest hugs and often lifts you up and spins your around in the process, and they never fail to make you feel untouchable, invincible and self-assured in a way that only he can make you feel. And most importantly, he’s so incredibly loving, overflowing in the way that he’s so soft-hearted and delicate and patient with you. It’s not infantilizing or patronizing, either. He’s simply so genuine in character that you can’t help but love him.

He’s not like anyone else. You know that.

But fear isn’t something that’s so easily forgotten or overcome. The possibility that you two don’t work out is a real, tangible danger, and you don’t want to lose yourself again. You can’t afford that, so you don’t – won’t – let yourself fall in any deeper. Moving in together would require more commitment and time spent together, meaning more opportunities for slip-ups and mistakes and fights, and you can’t help but tear up at the thought. You only want to make Hajime happy, but that’s unrealistic.

A yell of your name disrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see your boyfriend running over. He calls your name again before dropping down next to you, draping your coat over your shoulders, and taking your hands in his much warmer ones.

He blows on your trembling fingers, cheeks puffing with every exhale, before he brings you in closer, awkwardly forcing your face into his neck while he wraps himself around you.

He says your name one last time. You think you hear a tremble or a shake in his voice, but you don’t comment on it.

“You’re going to get sick,” he croaks.

You feel tears beginning stream down your face, and you can barely muster an apology. “I-I'm s-sorry, Ume.”

He pats at your back. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

A few minutes later, once your crying has reduced to the occasional sniffle, he helps you up and moves the two of you over to an empty bench that is placed beside a vending machine. Without asking, he slots a few coins in, and the machine retrieves two cans of hot tea, one of which he passes to you as he sits beside you.

From the corner of your eye, you watch as he cracks open the drink and takes a sip. You expect him to ask you about what you’re thinking, what’s going on, why you reacted the way you did.

“I’m sorry.”

You startle, but you don’t say anything.

“I should’ve asked if it was okay to touch you.”

You swivel your head to look at him, eyebrows scrunched with confusion. You ask, “What are you talking about?”

He nudges his head back towards the railing. “Earlier, when we crouching. I just couldn’t help it, but I should’ve asked. ”

“O-oh.”

You look back down at your lap.

You take a deep breath before pressing, “Aren’t you going to ask me about my meltdown?”

He simply shrugs and takes another sip. He exhales, followed by a puff of condensation, and responds, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“But aren’t you curious?”

You’re facing him again, and Hajime, with his dimmed, stormy grey eyes, stares at you.

“Why the rush?” he replies. “We have time.” He raises his hand, reaching over, before pausing in realization. You catch his hesitant stare and lean forward yourself so that his hand can pat you on the head. He smiles before continuing, “We can go at whatever pace we want. We should slow down when we need to, and make big decisions when we have to. I don’t want me or this relationship to be a source of stress for you.”

You’re stunned, but you really shouldn’t be. Of course, he’s so understanding and empathetic. Sometimes, you think your boyfriend can be a little too laidback, but it’s moments like this that remind you that you’re grateful for that part of him as well.

“S-so...,” you whisper, “... we don’t need to move in together?"

He nods and kisses you on the temple. “Not at all! I’m realizing it came off really forceful, but really, I only wanted to ask you to consider the possibility of it.”

Feeling a little weak, you sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. You mutter, “I totally overreacted. I’m so sorry, Ume.”

He kisses you again, this time on the center of your forehead. “I’m sorry, too. But we can figure this out together, yeah? We’ll live together eventually – or at least I hope so –, and we’ll fix whatever’s bothering you.”

You purse your lips together at his words. When he finishes, you immediately ask, “How can you sound so confident? What if something happens, and we break up?”

Hajime groans at the question, more than displeased at the thought. Chewing at his lip, he thinks for a few seconds before he answers, “Well, that’d really suck, and I can’t promise you that we won’t break up. But!”

He grabs your hand in his and puffs out his chest. You can’t help but chuckle at his antics.

“But,” he resumes, “I want to be with you, so I’ll do whatever I can so that we don’t break up. If we still do, then that can’t be helped, but while we’re together, I’ll do my best to make us happy!”

He raises your clasped hands up towards the sky and laughs loudly. You can’t help but reciprocate his energy, giggling as well.

“When you put it like that,” you admit, still chuckling, “it feels like everything’s going to be just fine.”

“Of course, it will be!” he exclaims and flashes you a proud smirk. “The two of us will make it work.”

You shake your head out of disbelief. Less than an hour ago, it felt like the world was closing in on you, like you were going to lose your foothold at any point. But here you are, with your lover, and his words seemed to have revived you, renewed your faith with blinding, unfailing hope, and you feel like you can take on any problem that could be thrown at the two of you.

The surge of confidence helps you make your decision, and you hold his face with one hand, guiding him gently to hear you out.

“Hajime,” you say, taking care to speak slowly, wanting to get your feelings as clearly as possible across, “I appreciate the offer – I truly do –, but I don’t think we should move in together just yet. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to or that I care about you or us any less, but I... I just need to think about it more. Can you, um, give me some time?”

Instead of agreeing or denying, your boyfriend whispers, “Can I hug you?,” to which you can barely nod at before he’s crushing you in his arms. You gasp out loud at the impact, but this time, it’s not too much. It’s grounding, reassuring, loving in a way that only Hajime can manage.

Even though you need air, you still manage to choke out a laugh, and you hug him back. If the two of you can figure every problem out like this, then everything will probably be alright.

winter event masterlist

#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker #wbk #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #wind breaker fluff #wbk fluff #umemiya #umemiya hajime #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #wbk um #wbk umemiya hajime #umemiya fluff #umemiya hajime fluff #carrot cake!#house of solis occasum

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docdufresne · 5 months ago

Note

how r you so good at drawing (halo) armor. You’re literally one of the best I’ve ever seen. Tips please if possible? (specifically for the shapes of the armor)

Oh god heLLO; I'm super bad at explaining my process of drawing RvB armor, as it's been multiple years since I've done it up until recently, so I'm super rusty but I will do my best to explain myself!!!

I've never made any sort of tip guide or tutorial, so please bear with me!

USE REFERENCES!!! This can go for renders from the Halo games directly (ArtStation was a great place to start, I'm not sure how things are post AI ""art"" surge, though) but at the very least, screenshot the heCK out of the series from whatever season you want to draw. There are a lot of different angles, and after they started to animate, it made it easier to get references with arms up or splayed out to the sides, or legs bent and hand motions!! Depends on what you're looking for!!

For this Reference, I used a Halo 3 render, as well as the Caboose-isms poster render. There are more clear renders out there, I'm sure!

First step that I take in learning to draw a new set of armor is color coding the sections that I'm going to draw, and then labeling them with points of interest that make me remember the detail later; Like grooves, or a bevel that looks weird or silly. Color coding and labelling the parts made it easier for me to break it down into smaller bits to draw piece by piece, bc let's face it; Armor can be super tedious and daunting, especially if you're just starting out.

Remember It's ALL SHAPES!!! IT'S JUST SHAPES!!!! Break them down into more simple shapes to find what works best for you! Keep it loose in the sketch stage, so you don't get lost in the pesky details

Remember that the armor goes on TOP of a body, and isn't a part of their body! Halo Infinite dOES have prosthetics that are a bit smaller than the armor, which adds depth and flavor to your armor though!

When in doubt, draw it larger than you mean to, and size it down to fit your other pieces!

SIMPLIFY IT!!! TRACE TO LEARN!!!! Really just figure out where the pieces go and put them together like a puzzle! Armor is simply just, hard, and there's no easy way to learn quickly how to do it efficiently and well; It really does take a lot of practice and trying and sketching and watching clips and staring at other's art to maybe notice shortcuts or even details you didn't notice before!!

But the biggest tip that I can give you is just, don't be afraid to make "bad art" don't be afraid to draw "bad armor" !!! It doesn't have to be perfect, the details don't all have to align on model 100% of the time! All of my art, paintings and all, have things that I fudged or missed, or messed up on and didn't notice, but I still have fun painting and drawing because I like making people laugh with my comics and I like having them feel stuff about my paintings!

Sorry if this wasn't what you were looking for, but I hope this helps even just a little bit!!

#tony's art tag #rvb #sorry again for the long post I'm rEALLY bad at explaining things and I've never made one of these before hfkjhadfsh

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bogleech · 2 years ago

Photo

Of all the random shitposty comics I used to draw, other than that silent hill pokemon one, these are the only three that actually made me myself laugh (at least internally) all these years later. Although, the first two also mostly confused people back in the day who thought there must be a reference or any additional context they were missing (there isn’t and I think the jokes are self explanatory but you can still ask what I was thinking if you’re baffled).....Cracked.com even ran the second one but asked me to add more panels further explaining the joke.

#art

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ambrozjas · 11 months ago

Note

Could you do a song-fic with Sodapop Curtis w/ the song "Stupid Cupid" by Connie Francis? Love your writing, take your time 💕

stupid cupid ꨄ︎

sodapop curtis x fem!reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

THIS WAS SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG BUT I LITERALLY LOCKED IN FOR THIS FIC ITS SO CUTE I SWEAR JUST READ ITTT

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader is referred to as a girl and a lady, reader is called gorgeous and beautiful, beginning of this fic has soda in highschool so it takes place before the outsiders

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1609 words, 8588 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

stupid cupid, you’re a real mean guy

i’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly

it felt like the roman god of love had shot sodapop right through the heart, and boy did soda hate it. that’s all that he thought while he gazed at you, chin held in palm as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. when the school air had a chokehold on everybody, it left out you. you looked absolutely divine. soda wondered if the gods, if there were any or it was just some stories made up to fill the minds of lovesick kids like himself, favored you. because as he looked at you, the sun just seemed to reflect off you just right, to where it coated the side of your face with a honey orange. you looked like an angel sent on earth, disguised as a teenager in soda’s highschool. he asked himself what you were doing in tulsa rather than some other fancy state like california.

i’m in love and it’s a crying shame

and i know that you’re the one to blame

“mr. curtis.” a stern voice broke through to sodapop, breaking the stained glass that in soda’s mind, was a mural of you and only you.

he snapped his neck to look up at the teacher, hovering over his desk as a finger harshly pointed at the paper on soda’s desk, almost empty.

“uh—sorry, sir.” mumbled sodapop as he grabbed his pencil and put his best thinking face on, hoping that the teacher would take the hint and retreat back to his old scratched up desk that looked like it had survived world war one.

the teacher narrowed his eyes at him, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he looked down at soda, before slowly walking back to his desk.

soda comically sighed in relief, taking one more glance back at you. he pressed his lips together tightly as he saw you talking to your friends. he always loved seeing you smile.

he exhaled sharply, earning another warning look from his teacher. soda tilted his head down as he studied the math problems below him, cradling his hand in his hand as his brain tried his best to work.

hey, hey set me free

stupid cupid, stop picking on me

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

i cant do my homework and i cant think straight

“what’s up with you?” ponyboy asked, not looking up from his book. in the corner of his eye, he watched sodapop bounce his leg vigorously as he tried to rub his temples to somehow think better.

“nothin’, pony. don’t worry ‘bout it.” soda responded. he threw his head back to lean on the top of the chair, he was really out of ideas. all that occupied his mind was you. he was writing an essay? you pop up into his brain, he accidentally writes your name to which he has to erase afterwards with red ears.

i meet her every morning ‘bout half past eight

i’m acting like a lovesick fool

you even got me carrying your books to school

how could sodapop miss this once in a lifetime opportunity? he just had to talk to you. one day, when you guys met before school, your breath both evident in the cold oklahoma morning, you made a joke about soda carrying your stuff for you.

“here, be a gentleman, yeah?” a laugh slipper past your lips, and when soda heard that gorgeous sound come out of your mouth, how could he deny you?

your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, not even getting the word out before soda grabbed the books from under your arm and held them under his.

you tilted your head as a smile graced your face. gosh, were there wedding bells? soda definitely heard them.

“y’know i was jokin’, right?” you asked, making sure you weren’t forcing him into doing anything. “i can take them back if you want—“

“nah, it’s alright.“ he brushed it off, waving his free hand dismissively before starting again, “plus, you’re right. how could i leave a pretty lady to carry her books on her own?” to that, you sheepishly grinned wider as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear shyly when you looked away.

you mixed me up for good right from the very start

hey now, go play robin hood with somebody else’s heart

the more that soda talked with you, the harder it was to get you out of his head. but the more he talked with you, the less he minded.

soda had dropped out of school. sure, you somewhat contributed to him failing with how much you occupied his head, but it was also on his own.

he was working at the dx with steve, working on cars all day to especially help darry out.

soda wiped his face with his forearm, cleaning his oily rag as steve rambled about something in the background. he hadn’t seen you in awhile, considering that instead of walking with you to school, darry had dropped steve and soda off at work.

but suddenly, the door tripped the bell, giving it a loud ring as soda looked up at who was walking through the door. and speak of the devil.

he could recognize you just from your sneakers. his head whipped back up to meet your eyes, and gosh was it refreshing to see your face again. a soft smile still remained on your face, as it usually did.

“sodapop! so you really was workin’ here, huh?” you asked, eyes roaming around the multitude of shelves in the gas station interior.

soda’s mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish. he watched as you walked up to the register and drummed your hands lightly on the counter.

“yeah!”, soda finally managed to blurt out, “how’ve you been? anythin’ new happen at school?” he asked, hearing steve finally shut up. soda could just imagine his ears pricking up at the sound of a pretty girl’s voice appearing.

“nothin’ much,” you leaned in and put a hand to the side of your mouth in a secretive manner, “mandy got pregnant.” soda gasped as he comically brought a hand up to his mouth. you guys whispered and gossiped, steve eyeballing both of you cautiously before slinging an arm around soda’s shoulders and brashly giving him a loud, “who’s this, soda?”

sodapop squinted at his friend and slowly turned his head, full of embarrassment. your eyes darted between the two of them, before giving steve a small wave and quietly giving him your name. your eyes fell back on soda, “well, i was just wonderin’ if you’d like to go to the drive-in wit’ me on saturday?”

“yeah, sure!” why was he acting like such a dork now? in front of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? but he sighed with relief when you nodded, giving him the same sweet smile you always greeted him with.

you got me jumping like a crazy clown

and i don’t feature what you’re putting down

once you had left the dx, soda went out to the garage and almost squealed, punching the air in excitement. steve narrowed his eyes as he watched through the garage windows, genuinely considering if soda was possessed or not.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

saturday couldn’t come quicker. it was already a great time leading up to the date, soda was confident. he was looked at himself in the mirror, popping his collar with assertiveness and heading out the door.

during the actual date, he tried to make subtle moves. shifting closer to you, touching thighs or linking pinkies. although you seemed okay with it, there was no engagement on your part. that almost worried soda, he knew you asked him on a date, but he was still overthinking. was he not all you expected? was he doing too much? too little?

but at the end of the date, when he drove you home in darry’s car that he begged to drive in, a small silence fell over you when you had reached your destination.

“y’need me to walk you up?”

“it’s alright, but do me a quick favor, will you?” soda couldn’t tear his eyes off your mouth when you spoke, lips painted a wine maroon color that somehow flowed so delicately with your words.

“anything.” was all soda said, before you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, giving him enough time to pull away, before closing your eyes and kissing him.

in that moment, it felt like you two were the only people in the world. just you, and soda, crammed into darry’s truck in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the small light above you two on the car’s roof.

when you pulled away, you looked at soda’s lips, slightly parted and stained with a light purple-ish red as he looked at you, absolutely mesmerized.

“thank you. i’ll make sure to drop by the dx on my way home, ‘kay?” you said, not waiting for an answer as you bolted out of the vehicle due to your nearing curfew.

well since i’ve kissed her loving lips of wine

the thing that bothers me is that i like it fine

all soda could do was gape as he watched you depart into the sea of outside lights surrounding your front door and windows, watching you turn around give him a small wave once you opened the front door.

still dazed, all soda could do was wave back. before a wide grin appeared on his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.

stupid cupid, sodapop thought.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this better get some likes i worked my ass off for this little fic and it’s only a thousand words 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #i love sodapop omg #literally my bae #sodapop blurb #sodapop the outsiders #sodapop x reader #sodapop imagine #the outsiders sodapop #i’m so proud of this fic #my longest one yet #1k words #i legit locked in #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

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kindlingkeen · 9 months ago

Note

People talk about Jason being the angry Robin a lot (I’ll fight people on this /lh, he may have gotten angry I don’t deny that, but he was so much more than that. This kid wanted to help people!!) and generally focus on him disagreeing/fighting w Bruce a lot.

I think more people should talk about the fact Jason was able to make Batman laugh, on just an awful anniversary too. Like, Batman is known for being stoic and just generally…not a happy dude? But this little kid comes along! And now the ‘dark knight’ is smiling and laughing!! Jason made Bruce happy then & afterwards too as Jason & Robin.

Anyway, that I think adds to the heartache of his death / Bruce being so close far more than their fight does. (Not that the fight isn’t important or anything, it absolutely is) that difference between that happy caring kid to the current Jason is supposed to be shocking 👏 not expected 👏

I agree, it absolutely adds to the heartache of his death.

I think there’s two related reasons for the focus on Jason as the “angry” Robin.

1) After Jason died, dc made a concerted effort to rewrite history that ‘Jason was reckless and angry and didn’t listen to Batman so his death was his fault and really he had it coming’. Because apparently the thing to do after you brutally murder a child as part of a grotesque media stunt is to use classism and victim blaming to gaslight your audience in order to deflect from your own failings. 🤢

For example just look at the difference between this panel from Batman #614 published in 2003:

Jason never had the skills that Dick had.

I’ve always known that Dick had a gift. Jason only had … rage.

Versus these panels from Batman #410 published in 1987 where we see Jason display obvious skill in hand-to-hand and acrobatics, and Bruce calls Dick and Jason “two of a kind”:

2) It’s a lot easier to not feel bad about Jason’s brutal demise if you focus on him as a bad seed to begin with. Like, who wants to think about a happy kid who excelled at school and loved his dad being beaten half to death and blown up.

So, yeah, I totally agree with you anon, the difference between pre-death Jason and post-death Jason is supposed to be shocking, not expected. Most of all it’s tragic. 😔

(PS…Sorry it took me forever to answer your ask, anon. I’ve been searching for a particular comic panel I wanted to include as a reference. I finally had to admit defeat and move on without it. 😕)

#keen converses #all together now #jason todd was a good kid and a good robin #it’s long past time we retired the angry robin term #jason todd #comics references

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misscheavus · 1 year ago

Text

(( REMINDER ))

I KNOW YOU’RE MAD // BUT SHE AIN’T EVEN WORTH NONE OF MY TIME

PAIRING: Jealous(?) Minah Lee x F!Reader (referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and ‘girl’)

WARNINGS: I wrote Redy a not the greatest person and I apologise for that, but the plot needed it D: (Not proofread (sorry)), swearing

LENGTH: 1,340+ words

This is a work of fiction and is in no way a reflection, description or depiction of any person(s) in real life. Images and names are merely used as placeholders in this work. You are responsible for the media that you consume.

Minah couldn’t help herself, rolling her eyes as she watched the interaction unfold in front of her. Maybe Bada’s beef with Redy wasn’t as unfounded as the team she thought. Fuck, at this rate, she might join her leader in her view of the 1Million dancer.

She watched as Redy brushed your hair away from your face, running her hand down your arm as she drowned you in compliments so obnoxiously loud that Minah could hear her from across the stage: “Oh my gosh, you’re so talented!” “I’m so envious of how your body moves!” “Your body is so incredible! You must work out lots to be so strong and pretty.” “You’re so flexible! You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Minah almost gagged.

And maybe she did because Bada turns from her spot in front of the girl, an eyebrow raised and stupid, knowing smirk plastered on her face.

“You good?” Bada places a hand on the younger’s knee, squeezing gently. Minah simply scoffed, not wanting to dignify her feelings with a response. Unfortunately for her, that was more than enough of an answer for the leader. She laughed, turning away from the girl and joining Minah in observing the situation in front of them develop. Bada tilts her head, looking back up and noticing Minah purposefully looking away, the tips of her ears red. “She looks uncomfortable, Minah. That’s more what I’d be worried about.” Bada hums, leaning back on her hands.

It’s almost comical how quickly Minah’s head snaps back to watch you closely.

It’s not like you were dating… well, you weren’t exclusive (yet). But you were something, right? Minah wasn’t even sure if she had any right feeling the emotions she was feeling… but focusing back in on the two of you and the way you were reacting to the other dancer made her emotions feel more justified.

She felt heat claw up her neck, wrapping around her chest tightly the more she watched. Even though you were giggling and seemed to be playing along… something looked off. Minah leaned forward, observing… almost waiting for the other dancer to make a wrong move and let her pounce.

You moved back quickly, just out of immediate reach of Redy’s overly touchy hands as she seemed to reach for your face again. Minah watches you bow, putting more distance between you, eyes darting away from the forward woman and thanking her for whatever stupid shit she said. You scratch your forearm, gulping obviously as you try to shuffle back.

Bada was right. You were uncomfortable. And Minah wasn’t going to sit opposite you and let you be uncomfortable.

She stands abruptly, Bada leaning out of the way and letting the younger step past her.

Minah has tunnel vision; seeing nothing but you, trying to politely turn Redy’s advances down. It’s even worse because your team can’t even understand what’s being said to help you out. “Oh, thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested. We’re really busy, and I’ve already got someone in my life…” She hears your quiet response as she gets closer.

‘…Did she ask you out?’ The anger bubbles over inside Minah. She all but storms up to the pair, arms crossed intimidatingly. “She’s saying no, Redy. She’s uncomfortable. Leave her alone. You got your answer.” Minah’s bluntness is a welcome relief. You quietly let out a sigh as Minah stands in front of you, feeling the weight lift slightly off your chest.

“Sorry, were you involved in our conversation? I don’t think you were, actually-“ Redy starts, moving closer to you again.

“I am because you’re coming onto my girlfriend. And I’d really suggest backing up before things get bad for you. Quickly.” Minah’s eyes are narrowed, chest puffed as she takes a step closer. You look over at Redy, her eyes now wide as she puts the pieces together. You quietly apologise to the girl, before standing and taking Minah’s arm and leading her off-set and into an unoccupied corridor backstage.

“No, let me back at her. I swear to God-“

You place both hands on Minah’s shoulders, squeezing gently. That stops her rage for a moment, finally focusing on you. “Are you okay? She didn’t touch you, did she? I know you were uncomfortable… I just…” Minah’s eyes closed for a moment, trying to calm herself.

“I really shouldn’t find you that attractive when you’re jealous and overprotective.” Minah’s eyes pop open, looking at you incredulously.

“I was not jealous. I-“

Before she can open her mouth to keep lying, you answer her questions, “She only touched my arm, and I’m okay. Just… unsettled? Sorry, you had to help me deal with her. I just… didn’t know how to stop her without coming across as rude. You did a good job though.” You smile, hands deftly sliding up her shoulders and to her face, cupping her cheeks.

Minah brings her hands to rest over yours, sighing. “Don't apologise, baby. Just be rude. I hate watching people try and take advantage of your kindness. Especially like that. Bitch.” She hissed the last word quietly, feeling your fingers tap her cheek in response to her choice of words. The anger Minah had before fills her body for a moment before it softens as she meets your eyes. You take a step closer, Minah’s hands now dropping to your waist, thumbs caressing your skin. She sighs, “I… sorry. I hate seeing you uncomfortable, even a little bit. I care about you too much to see you like that…”

You’re both quiet for a moment, simply enjoying each other's presence; Minah squeezes your waist as she tries to calm down again, ignoring the nagging feeling in her heart as her brain keeps replaying the events of before over and over. Redy's hands on your face, your arms... She bites her lip, suppressing her internal desire to go back out and-

“So… girlfriend, huh?” You can’t help but tease the girl in front of you, breaking her building bitterness, laughing as she groans and rests her head against your shoulder. You bring a hand up and stroke the back of her head, still giggling. “I liked it before you apologise. You should introduce me like that more often.” You feel Minah’s body tense before she pulls back to look at you.

“Yeah?” She smiles so cutely you can feel your heart race at her beauty, “You wanna be my girlfriend? You’ll be mine?” You return her loving smile, resting your foreheads together. “Mhm. As long as you’ll be mine.” Minah all but smirks at your reply, pulling back a little further and resting her palm on the back of your neck and brings you in. The glint in her eyes as her gaze drops to your lips giving you all the answers you need as she closes the distance between you.

————

About 10 minutes later, you both emerge, back at the ring, hands entwined. Minah walks you back to your crew, squeezing your hand once more before returning to Bebe. Bada and Lusher stifle a laugh, Tatter motioning for the younger to come to them. Reaching up, Tatter wipes away smeared lipstick from the corner of Minah’s swollen lips. “Maybe next time you get all macho for your girl, look in a mirror before you come back?” The three giggle as they adjust Minah’s jacket and hair, askew and mused from your hands.

“Poor girl, did you maul her in, like, five minutes?” Lusher chuckles, noticing the already darkening mark on your neck from across the room… on the side of your neck that faced the 1Million crew.

Minah can’t even bring herself to be embarrassed, looking over at you and sending you a cheeky wink, before meeting Redy's eyes. Minah raises an eyebrow, wiping her lips and smirking at the elder, unable to stop herself from mouthing a quick 'mine' and glancing in your direction. She can't help relishing in how quickly Redy averts her eyes from both of you, laughing quietly.

Yeah, this was way better than her plan about 15 minutes ago.

#Minah Lee #minah Lee x reader #Minah x reader #Minah Lee imagine #Minah Lee fic #minah imagine #Minah Bebe #swf fic #swf2 x reader #swf2 fic #swf2 #kpop imagines #bada lee x reader #bada x reader

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akumastrife · 2 months ago

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Maybe You Were Sent For Me; Maybe I Was Made For You {Steddie/Stranger Things}

Rating: Teen? (References to non-explicit sex in one of the ending scenes?) Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Steddie Word Count: 4k Summary: There's a demon in Hawkins, but Steve isn't sure what that means. He's also not sure why he's committed to figuring it out. This was supposed to be about weird demon sex for Monsterfucktober 2023, but then I did what I always do by making it weirdly introspective and yearny and soft. Oops. Maybe one day I'll write a PWP sequel. {Also on AO3}

There’s a demon in Hawkins.

At least, that’s what all the adults whisper about over immaculately set tables and potlucks and sun-dappled mailboxes.

Looking at the young man darkening the open back door of the church (propped open to let in any slip of breeze, and in the process letting in the filth, his Mother hisses to his Father), Steve doesn’t see it.

How does someone look at another and know?

Steve’s looking at him closer now, more shadow and bright light than boy. Metal winks all over him like a glittering midnight sky when he moves, and when his eyes find Steve’s, the darkness of them burns.

Steve jerks his eyes back to the pulpit, swallowing thick as his heart beats against his sternum in something one step to the right of fear.

When he looks out of the corner of his eyes, the exit is empty.

He doesn’t hear a word of the sermon after that. Maybe hadn’t heard any of it the moment he sat down.

Maybe that’s what his Mother meant, about demons and the handsome young men who house them, leading the weak-willed from holy light.

“—right trouble,” Mrs. Mitchell says. “He’s just not right.”

“His poor uncle,” Mrs. Roberts agrees. “Can’t decide if he’s a saint for taking that thing in, or wicked himself for letting it back into town.”

Steve tunes back into the conversation, bored and tired and hot in the stuffy church. Looks longingly out the window where some of the other boys are out throwing around a football, having shed their nice church jackets and unbuttoning their collars. But Mother has her arm twined with his, keeping him close and respectable.

“He was the sweetest little boy,” Mother muses, “if a little wild. Before all that… strange business, with his parents.”

Mrs. Thompson sniffs reproachfully. “If you ask me, he’s always been tainted. There’s something dark hiding in that boy.”

Steve doesn’t see how that’s Munson’s fault.

Steve had seen a statue of Satan once. When visiting his grandparents, they’d spent Sunday morning in their church. All familiar and alien at once. Like seeing your bedroom in a dream and not knowing if the layout is the same or if you’re just remembering it wrong.

He’d missed that sermon, too. Had been too fixated on carved stone outlining a fallen angel as pretty as a saved one; limbs elegantly muscled, demonic wings at odds with the strangely submissive pose of it, and hair a tumbling curtain that looked like it’d be soft if touched.

He couldn’t, obviously. Couldn’t be caught looking, either. Even if his grandmother had and told Father and—

He doesn’t remember the rest of the visit. But he remembers the statue.

Thinks about it now, weirdly enough, in the lunch room. Thinks about the curve of stone effigy as Munson perches on his chair, performing for his little band of weirdos. His dark curls tumbling around him like some sort of halo, hands up and hooked in parody of something more wicked.

Fingers snap in front of his face. “Earth to Hair,” a teammate says.

Steve can’t get caught looking. Snaps his eyes away, snaps up a rakish grin, snaps his hand into a soft stomach and laughing at the grunt and flinch it produces.

There’s a demon in Hawkins.

Everyone’s whispering about it.

Steve isn’t sure he really, truly believes that. But he leaves practice late—the sun already sinking, covering the campus in shadows—and he sees the shadowy figure sprawled along the field’s bleachers, ringed in lazy smoke. Like a character in a comic book. Regal and indolent at once.

He’s stopped to watch; breathes in the chilly evening air and grips his backpack strap too hard. There’s a sharp wanting in his gut, twisting and churning, that tells him to step closer. Instinct and something more primal flashes in danger. Growing up in the church pews has told him it’s wrong. Whatever it is, whatever Munson is, it’s wrong and he can’t.

Munson knows he’s there, even as his loose-limb perch stays easy, even as lips wrap around the smudged, damp papers. There isn’t any breeze to stir the thick silence between them, but smoke floats over to him anyway. Too skunky to be nicotine, but laden with sulfur undertones that ping as familiar and foreign at once.

Munson pushes a ringed hand through his hair; pushing it back frizzy and untamed.

Steve must be as stupid and vain as everyone teases, because the fear is replaced with distress at long dark hair that’s not being cared for properly. It needs moisture and some sort of heavy product. His hands twitch to get in there. To dampen it, twist it around his fingers—

Munson curls a lock around his finger, slow enough to watch, looking back at him with the sleepy heaviness of a large predator on a nature documentary.

Steve swallows around a dry mouth and turns for the parking lot quickly.

He spends too long in the bathroom that night.

Just because someone’s weird doesn’t mean they’re satanic. (He does not say this at the dinner table, but it gets him thinking anyway.)

Yeah, Munson’s dripping in occult symbols and spends his time locked up in dark basements weaving tales of magic and evil with his freak cronies.

And yeah, symbols have power. The letterman jacket he wears is a symbol that means something. It gives him a power in school and around town. A jacket like his means he’s good and popular and right. It’s all about fitting in the jacket and the box built for him; being the boy his parents expect and the church expects and the town expects.

But what even is goodness? The stuff they talk about at church, only achieved by following their set of rules and codes? He’s not sure that’s enough, because Johnny on the team doesn’t go to church, but he’s down at the soup kitchen on Saturdays and he helps old ladies across the street, so that should still count for something. And Mimi on cheer squad sits with girls in the nurse’s office and picks up litter in the spring, even though her family doesn’t celebrate Christmas.

Steve wears the jacket and goes to church and does as he’s told, but he doesn’t always feel good, either. Sometimes he slips on the jacket and squirms at the thought that he’s a fraud. That the jacket means more than he actually is. Something he can’t measure up to.

“Stop thinking so hard, you’ll burn up your last two braincells,” Chrissy teases, poking her knuckles into his temples to get him to relax his face.

Cheer and Basketball have to share the gym today and it means neither team is doing much of any practicing. He should be helping Coach get everyone back on track, but he’s too preoccupied to care about three pointers.

He grins and rolls his eyes, batting her hand away. “Just thinking about the new defense plays.” Not fully a lie.

Her laugh is high and bright. “But you’re too pretty to be thinking.”

Usually it’s an inside joke between them; both of them seen as too pretty, and pretty as in not good for anything else. No expectation for anything more.

Lately it just makes him shift somewhere inside himself, pushing his tongue into the inside of his teeth to stem it.

Is that really all he’s good for?

Is that enough?

Could that be enough for himself?

He huffs, ruffling his own hair as he speeds up to rejoin the guys in their cool down laps. Maybe everyone’s right—maybe he’s not made for thinking. He’s not even sure what he’d really been thinking about, what conclusion he was trying to puzzle out, except in circles.

Sometimes when Steve’s thinking too hard, his eyes drift over to land on Munson. Like some sort of tar trap. Or a magnet, stuck in his throat whenever he looks and tries to swallow.

Sometimes, when he does, Munson catches him at it.

Sometimes, Munson’s looking first.

It should mean nothing. It probably does mean nothing and he’s being the weird one. They’ve literally exchanged maybe a dozen words over the years. They were almost lab partners early in the semester before Rodney made a fuss and convinced everyone to swap. They’d done poorly on the assignments, but Steve was used to that, at least.

What would a demon even want to do with Hawkins, anyway? Even if Munson was one, so far all he’d done since he got back was start a band, go to school, and start the dungeons and dragons club back up. As far as he could tell, it was keeping Nancy’s little brother and his friends off the streets and out of trouble, so he wasn’t sure what the harm was in that, either.

Maybe he just didn’t get what the adults were so worried about. Maybe he didn’t get it and so that’s why he was just as at risk to fall into Munson’s demonic ways.

That was probably why Steve was looking at him so much these days.

There’s a demon in Hawkins.

He dresses in all blacks and reds and dangerous flashes of metal, and moves his body in weird ways. He plays satanic games and satanic music. He and his uncle never come to church—there’s hushed chatter about him still hovering around the church, probably up to no good and refusing to come inside. Maybe can’t? He and his friends (minions, Mrs. Thompson spits,) are always around town in a little pack up to no good.

He, also, catches Steve’s eye in the hallway, grinning brightly and mocking, flashing sharp canines.

He, also, chats animatedly with Chrissy, always slipping away whenever Steve gets closer.

He, also, sells pot at Steve’s basketball games, out back behind the building when everyone’s distracted. Steve knows because he can smell it when he leaves the locker room at the end of the night, the air heavy with herbs and sulfur. A calling card or a tease of some game Steve doesn’t know they’re playing.

He, also, lounges high up in the bleachers early in the morning when Steve’s swimming laps. Steve’s not sure how long that’s been going on, or why Munson’s picked there to haunt. He’d expected Munson to be the sort of “out all night, sleep all day” type that was popular with bats and horror villains.

But sometimes Steve pulls himself out of the pool, shedding water, and finds the glow of Munson’s eyes in shadows, hair curled around a finger and between his lips. Steve shivers before grabbing a towel and tries not to see those eyes every time he blinks.

Munson’s definitely weird, but ultimately harmless, Steve’s pretty sure. Mother’s book club-church-social ladies don’t know what they’re talking about. Munson’s just some guy.

Steve intends on finally confronting him about it. See what his deal is, why he’s skulking around, what he could possibly want. Maybe ask about the demon business so they can both laugh it off. If nothing else because Chrissy likes him and Jason’s starting to get weird about it, tight and angry somewhere behind his smarmy smiles.

But there’s never a good time, or there’s too many people who’d want to watch popular Steve talk to the school freak. (He doesn’t talk to him when he’s leaving the pool or basketball practice despite them being alone and the perfect time for it. There’s something taboo about it, when he’s bare and sweating and catching his breath, and Munson’s eyes are roaming him slow and heavy. Those times are for something else, something that Steve doesn’t understand but wants to keep just for them.)

(There’s no them.)

He must kick around too long, too loudly, because he swings back to his locker long after school to get a forgotten book, and Munson’s leaving detention with one of his ruffled, punky friends. He laughs loud and sharp, flinging his head back, uncaring of where he is. He drums his hands theatrically across his friend’s shoulders and then the row of lockers, pushing him off down a hall with a farewell (a literal farewell, like he’s trying out for the Spring Shakespeare Play.)

He keeps walking.

Steve keeps walking.

Dark, liquid eyes stare into his as Musnon reaches into a vest pocket for a crumbled box of cigarettes.

Steve inhales, should stop—passes him, and keep walking.

There’s a squeak on linoleum and then Munson’s walking at his elbow, bumping a little too close. He’s warm, putting out heat like a radiator.

Steve exhales.

A lighter flicks, flickers, catches in the corner of his eye glowing red and curling into smoke.

He doesn’t look.

He pushes the exit door out the back harder than he means to, stepping out into the bright sunshine. Squints.

A firm hand lands on his shoulder and pushes, spinning him back around a corner and into shadows. Brick scratches the back of the felted letterman jacket. Steve forgets to breathe.

Munson breathes for him, fingers digging sharp into his chest to keep him still and lips ghosting soft over his, open and exhaling smoke that Steve can’t help but draw in, shuddering.

His thoughts spin dizzy and his heart climbs and stutters; then he’s not thinking at all, foggy with smoke and sulfur and the curious prodding of a wet tongue.

Steve gasps, grabbing the edges of Munson’s vest with the intention to push, instead doing the opposite. Heat and want flares across his skin, coming out as a small whine and turning him as stupid as everyone says he is.

Guilt drops into his stomach like a stone, but his hands keep pulling, his tongue keeps reaching, his hips follow a press he knows like a second language. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be liking this.

“Why are you following me around?” Munson asks against his mouth, low and raspy, his teeth catching Steve’s lip to pull.

Steve shudders and makes an embarrassing sound he’ll never admit to. It doesn’t feel like Munson minds, except—

“What?” Steve manages. He pushes, puts enough space between them he can gulp fresh air and try to clear his head. “Me? I was—I’d been—you.” He laughs despite himself, more panicked than amused, letting his head thump back against the wall. It stings, but the clarity is needed. “I thought you were stalking me.” Still thinks it, to be honest, because he has a lot more reason to be at the pool and the gym than the sixth-year senior slacker.

“What reason would I have to follow around the poplar pretty boy?” Munson asks, scathing enough that Steve’s pants go pathetically tight.

He tries to shrug instead, looking anywhere other than Munson’s eyes, deep enough to fall in like coaxing. “You tell me.” Does look, because he can’t help himself. Munson’s all dark temptation and promises of satisfaction.

Maybe he is a demon. Maybe that’s why Steve feels this way.

Maybe he’s something that’s mistaken for a demon: less supernatural and more dangerous.

Munson looks at him, and doesn’t say anything.

Steve’s too busy kissing him to say anything, either.

They don’t talk about it like Steve planned. He doesn’t get around to asking about any of it. They don’t talk at school or outside it. Nothing really changes except the stolen moments shivering in Munson’s burning hands and wicked mouth under the bleachers, or the quick and self-conscious fumble in the Munson trailer.

Steve doesn’t like anyone messing with his hair, but he likes it when Munson pulls on it.

Steve doesn’t like hickeys where anyone can see and ask questions, but he likes Munson’s sharp teeth digging in under his clothes.

Steve doesn’t like the thought of anyone catching them, but he lets Munson in through his window under the dark sky of a new moon. How can he say no to all the shadowed angles and flashing eyes of Munson softened immediately in the warm lamplight of his room?

It’s way too easy to let Munson in and then stay the rest of the night. Maybe he’s actually a vampire.

“Fussy,” Munson teases, biting at Steve’s hip, laughing at Steve’s stomach jumping at the touch.

Steve frowns and tugs at his hair in retribution. For such a wicked boy, his smiles look extra sweet in the early morning sunlight. Maybe that’s one of his tricks, too.

Footsteps echo up the stairs and down the hall, and Steve swears low. He scrambles to push Munson down, pull up the lumpy comforter over him. It won’t be enough. He pushes with his legs for Munson to shift behind him as he rolls over. Battles amusement at the soft thump and swear of Munson hitting the floor. Just in time for Father to knock and open the door without waiting, helping himself to every corner of his house without care to privacy.

“What are you still doing in bed?” There’s a queer suspicion in his eyes as they roam over Steve, looking for an answer neither of them wants to ask the question to.

“I—I don’t feel well,” Steve chokes out. Twitches at the fingers pressing into the back of his knees. Fakes a cough that turns distressingly real at teeth scraping at his backside.

“Your mother will be disappointed,” Father says in his own disappointment. In Steve. Not that he’s sick, but that he’s not obedient.

Steve shrugs, helpless and tangled up in his own bad decisions.

Father sighs, hand clenching around the door handle before relaxing. “Okay. No TV. We’re going to the Glenn’s after church. Mary will be disappointed you’re not coming.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move until the door’s shut, Father’s gone, and the car’s pulled out of the driveway. Guilt and shame dig claws into him, slowly slicing down.

What is he doing?

“Stevie,” Munson sings, all rough and honey sweet at once. He grabs Steve’s ankle from the floor and tickles the bottom of his foot. Drags himself up onto the bed like some sort of alluring boogie man, smiling with teeth and glittering eyes; seeming to have too many hands as he crawls up and over Steve himself. Worms under the blankets and begins kissing down Steve’s chest.

Steve exhales, letting go of more tension than he realized he was carrying. It isn’t fair that Munson is so good with his fingers and his tongue, that he’s addicting and soothing both at once. The best kind of distraction, even though Steve can’t remember what he needs distracted from anymore.

Steve sinks his hands into thick hair, clutching rhythmically with every graze of teeth, every swirl of tongue. Thinks, blessedly, about nothing at all. Just skin and sweat and the warm, heavy weight of—

“Eddie,” he sighs, arching up into the tight heat of his mouth. Then shudders down, groaning into the flinch of a curl around Munson, through the shaking swell up and over.

Munson, who has enough nonsense going on in his brain to keep his mouth running ceaselessly, says nothing. He’s still alive, Steve can feel the damp wash of his breathing, but usually a conscious Munson is a chatty one.

When he looks down, he freezes, ice running through his veins and chasing out the murky afterglow. Munson’s open expression of awe and adoration is marred by the solid black of his eyes.

“You—” Steve starts, thighs tensing.

“You said my name,” Eddie says over him, rushed and delighted. His hands tighten, sharp nails pricking sensitive skin. His smile is bright—almost childlike—if it weren’t for the sharper points of his teeth. The tongue that was just somewhere very sensitive is forked.

He hadn’t felt that.

He’s pretty sure he’d have felt that.

“They were right.” Dread drops into his stomach.

Munson frowns. “About my cock sucking skills? Who was right? I haven’t been exactly going around tongue first.” Sticks it out in a tease.

Steve looks at his tongue again without meaning to. Still split.

“You’re a demon.”

Munson’s mouth slackens into an O as his eyes clear back into the warm brown Steve’s used to, wide and scared. Everything about him shrinks back in such a smooth transition that Steve’s brain can’t keep up with it. Knows he watched it happen, but couldn’t conjure up the image even if he wanted to. Knows only then, and now.

Muns—Eddie’s hands tighten, and then loosens in a panic when Steve flinches tight. Pets his hip bones like he’s a startled horse.

The thought is insulting enough to knock Steve out of his horror enough to glare. “What were you doing at the church that day?”

Eddie’s expression shutters guilty enough that neither of them has to clarify which day he means.

“I… I dunno. I’d just come back to town, was relearning it and then… well…” He licks his lips, glancing away. It’s all Steve can do to watch his mouth. Bruised and soft and so inviting. Demon echoes in his thoughts—all he knows about them (not enough) and what pop culture has taught him (probably fanciful exaggerations.) But they’re supposed to be harbingers of sin and temptation and leading the pure astray into damnation. Evil.

“Drawn by a higher power?” Steve asks dryly. He’s slowly relaxing. Some of the fear ebbs away. Eddie’s not evil, of that he’s certain. “Feeling repentant?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. Pinches Steve’s ribs. Steve flinches, swears, and swats at Eddie’s shoulders, but all that earns him is a sharp bite to the swell of his hip. “Drawn by something,” he grumbles.

Steve’s not sure he’s ever been considered pure, so they’re probably safe there. But Eddie’s soft brown eyes, open expressions, plush mouth, wicked fingers, tantalizing everything—

He flushes for no particular reason, distracts them both from it by ruffling his hands through Eddie’s sex-wild hair. Everything about Eddie seems made specifically to catch Steve’s attention, and maybe that’s what they’ve been talking about all this time.

“Do you want my soul?” Steve finally asks, huffy in his exasperation and impatience. The sooner they figure this out, the better.

Eddie’s face screws up in disbelief and disgust. “I don’t even know how to do that. What would I do with a soul, anyway? Eat it? Put it on a shelf? Trade it for Demonic Goods and Services?”

Steve flails the approximation of a shrug. “Well, I don’t know! It’s your whole,” gestures again, “deal. Couldn’t you use it to gain access to Hell or something?”

Eddie thinks about that for a long second. “Why would I wanna go there? It sounds terrible.”

Steve laughs. He doesn’t mean to, and it’s a little too sharp and too desperate. It clearly startles both of them. But once it starts, he can’t stop. Through watery eyes he catches Eddie grinning at him like they’re just two dumb teenagers, and also maybe like Steve’s the proof of a holy relic.

There’s a demon in Hawkins.

The congregation worry that he’s building a cult; leading all their impressionable youth into dark basements for sorcery and music that makes windows shake. He plays with fire and smoke, and peddles spirits and drugs to drag the town down to his level. Corrupting as many souls as he can so when he returns to Hell where he belongs, he has an army of the depraved at his back.

Mostly, though, he cuts class and loiters around the school and the church and too-nice neighborhoods he has no business being in. He smuggles his preppy boyfriend out of his suffocating house and into his trailer where they can neck on the old couch. More frequently now, Hell’s Best Uncle (they made him a mug and everything,) tells lame jokes they laugh and groan at easily. Better when Wayne pats Steve’s shoulder and asks about school and sports, and tells Steve he’s proud of him. Even when he hasn’t done anything.

The worst thing Eddie tempts him into doing is a little underage drinking, smoke a little weed, and indulge in premarital homosexual activity.

Steve’s pretty sure he’d be doing all of that anyway, so he can’t blame Eddie for those sins. But he can blame Eddie for the hickeys, the easy grins, the quiet of a home that doesn’t rattle his brain into anxious static. If those are considered unforgivable sins, Steve’s not sure he really cares what the pastor is peddling anymore.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #demon au #demon!Eddie #my writing #monsterfucktober

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kkami-writes · 1 year ago

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Black Blood – chapter ten. cw. implied sex. wc. 1.5k reference. skz-talker ep. 34

It was the day of the AAA’s and anyone could clearly see just how nervous you were. Even though it was just going to be a recording due to covid, it was still your first big event with the boys and you want it to go as smoothly as possible. Somehow you were more nervous than they were and they were the ones performing.

One by one you had made sure they were getting ready, constantly glancing at the clock and making sure you were still on schedule and not running behind. You had gone to check on Felix, but the boy was not in his room and you decide to find him later. The biggest probably would be Hyunjin if the boy wasn’t awake yet. It’d take you at least ten minutes to drag the boy out of bed. You freeze in front of his room though and you can immediately recognize the familiar energy that was pulsing inside the room. You curse under your breath, sighing deeply. Really? Did they have to decide to do this today?? Of all days?? An hour before they had to leave?? Oh you were gonna strangle them.

They don’t leave you much choice as you open the door and enter the room.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt but in case you’ve forgotten you have the AAA’s today,”

The two boys on the bed freeze, eyes wide as they stare at you. Hyunjin is currently shirtless with a flustered Felix underneath him, legs wrapped around the taller boy’s body. It would almost be comical how shocked they were but to be honest you felt a little bad. You had promised to yourself that you would never…go near them when they were having moments like these but this time it could not be helped.

They scramble to disconnect themselves from each others bodies, Hyunjin desperately looking for his discarded shirt and Felix has his head in his hands, ears a bright red.

“I’m so sorry but we leave in an hour. So you can either hurry up or take a cold shower but we gotta go. I’ll come back in an hour ok?” You make to leave the two alone but surprisingly Hyunjin holds you back.

“Wait what? That’s it? You’re not gonna like…ask? Or interrogate us?” You raise an eyebrow at him, tilting your head.

“Huh? Do you want me to? I already know all of you guys are fucking,”

“WHAT?” They both scream at your confession and Felix flushes even more if it was possible. You laugh.

“Ok, first of all. You guys are NOT subtle or slick at all. The amount of times I’ve walked in on some of you making out is hilarious. Second of all, did you forget I’m half-succubus? I can quite literally feel the energy when you guys are…you know,”

Both boys blink at you, jaws practically on the floor.

“Plus even if I had never noticed or wasn’t a succubus, you do realize that the first thing the company did when I got the job was sign a NDA that explained all of you are in a polyamorous relationship and that I shouldn’t be concerned if I see anything. That it is strictly a company secret,”

Felix lets out a small groan, going back to trying to hide himself into the palm of his hands.

“…You don’t…think it’s weird?” Hyunjin asks, his voice on the quiet side, uncharacteristic for the boisterous boy.

“Weird? Hyunjin, I’m a succubus for devil’s sake. People summon me to have mind-blowing sex. I have to feed on semen of all things. And you’re asking me if I think it’s weird that eight people are in a relationship? You’re so cute,” This time Hyunjin is the one blushing. “If you want my honest opinion? I love it. I’ve been here a month and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that all of you have such a special bond. You guys have something so beautiful, so rare and you guys shouldn’t be ashamed of it. I mean of course, I understand why you have to hide it but that’s not the point. I think it’s so wonderful that you guys have so much love in your heart and my point is, is that you guys should cherish what you have. Honestly? I’m kinda jealous. I could barely get one boyfriend let alone eight when I was alive” You joke half-heartedly but they cam both tell you’re being more honest than you’ve ever been with them. “Anyway yeah, that’s what I think so please, you guys don’t have to skirt around me anymore. I know a lot more then you think. I don’t mind if you guys are all lovey-dovey around me ok? Okay good. ONE HOUR. We gotta go and if you’re not ready I will drag you out of this apartment”

Felix is looking up at you with those pretty eyes, a sparkle of what looks like hope shines in them. You don’t have the time to even begin to unpack what his gaze could possibly mean as you exit the room. You never see the look Hyunjin and Felix give each other.

Somehow you manage to get everyone to the venue in one piece. You think you deserve a medal for that alone. For now though, you get to relax while the boys get their makeup done. Jeongin is the first one done, sitting in the little kitchen area and stuffing his face with food. His hair is bright blue now, having gotten dyed just a few days ago. He looks good, you think to yourself, especially with the pretty red eyeshadow dusted across his eyes. You come over to poke his cheeks that are filled with food and he playfully swats at you, causing you to let out a small laugh.

You lean down a little, resulting in a confused look from the boy but you simple open your mouth, blinking and waiting for him. Jeongin stares at you for a minute before finally realizing what you want, placing some tteobokki into your mouth. You hum appreciatively, enjoying the sticky spicy rice cake.

“WHAT!!! This is blatant favoritism!!!” Changbin whines, pointing towards Jeongin. He had just tried to get the boy to share but he had pulled the food away from the other. Jeongin simply shrugs.

“Noona’s pretty,” and then he goes back to stuffing his face happily as Changbin stares at the boy with his mouth open. Of course Jeongin eventually let’s the other eat some of his food, but not before Changbin had thoroughly pouted.

Jisung walks into the room once he’s all dressed and you ‘oooh’ at the golden glitter in his hair. Your hand comes to run through his hair, an action Jisung throughly enjoys as he almost pushes against your hand more. But as soon as your hand leaves his hair he suddenly remembers why he had come over. Before you know it, Jisung is pulling you towards a smaller room with Minho.

“Um..where are you taking me? Are you gonna murder me?” Jisung snorts.

“No, no. Can you film us for SKZ-Talker? The other staff are busy,” He asks, pushing a small camera into your hands. It’s very hard to say no to the boy so you follow them into the room. There’s a keyboard pushed up the the wall and Jisung takes a seat. As soon as you start recording, you point the camera to Minho.

“Sorry you can’t be in here without permission. It’s authorized personnel only,” Stays will assume he’s talking to the camera but he’s actually teasing you, a grin on his face before taking a sip of coffee. You playfully glare at the boy from beyond the camera.

Jisung is pushing some buttons on the keyboard and then it’s playing a rapid song, his fingers pretending to glide over the keys as if he was the one playing. You’re trying to hold back your laughter at the sight, biting at your lower tier. He plays it up even more as he pretends to have a conversation on the phone, now ‘playing’ the keyboard with one hand.

After he’s done, Minho has already left the room, presumably to go bother someone else. Jisung starts to try playing an actual song, focused heavily on trying to remember the correct keys. He can only play the first few notes but the tune is strangely familiar to you. The boy continues to try to play as you wrack your brain of where you know this song. And then it hits you.

“OH. This is from Howl’s moving castle right?” You exclaim, happy that you had finally remembered.

“Yeah!! You’ve seen it?” You nod your head eagerly.

“Yeah, I love that movie. All ghibli movies really. I’m a little upset that I didn’t realize it sooner. I guess it has been awhile since I’ve seen it,”

“It’s my favorite movie of all time!! I’ve seen it like 8 times,” He chuckles. He would never get tired of talking about the movie.

“Wanna make it 9?” His head shoots up to look at you. Jisung’s smile gets brighter, small sparkles in his eyes.

“Hell yeah,” Devils advocate taglist (50/50) ⛤ send an ask or sign up here ⛤ @hannieslove @alnex05 @liknws @hyunelixbun @mixtape-racha @inlovewithallmusic @noellllslut @143lix @lolli4me @minhoie @soobery @sunnibearr @adorawritesalot @chlodavids @tasteskzsworld @chowmein69 @suebinn @yoonrimin @hyunestrella @elizalabs3 @chaotic-world-of-the-j @realrintaro @surefornext @minhwa @0325tiny @tfshouldidohere @hanjingin @slay-and-gay @princelingperfect @strawberryepie @yeetmehome @min-doesnt-know @shakalakaboomboo @skz-streamer @lovestayforev @the-simpy-simp @beautifulcolorgarden @foliea @studygirlmaxx @kpopsstuffs @highlydestiny @lenilla15 @@chocolate-scoups @mits-vi @lovemyself-persona @rensimps @raehawthorne @miss-rose-dixon @producedbyy3racha @loverlixie @hibs8

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mmmmalo · 2 months ago

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I haven't thought about homestuck in years but I began to reread it recently, and I remembered highly enjoying your analysis so I came to revisit, and I'm rather surprised by the turn it's taken. Genuine question to satisfy my own curiosity, how come your analysis shifted so heavily from possible trauma and teenage issues to homophobia, transgender readings of so many characters, and the grotesque?

First up, I'm moved that you thought of my blog when you revisited the story! Thank you for stopping by.

I think I would sum up the change as... various factors compelled me to reframe the way I approached paranoia in the comic? Like you said, I used to be all about character's individual psychologies: John with the fear of being judged, Jade with the latent hostility toward Grandpa, etc. But sometimes the fears were bigger than individuals. Homestuck cracked its first Obama joke in reference to Deep Impact, a movie about people for whom a black presidency is an event comparable to cataclysmic flooding. The poorly received Skainet Systems lore made a sly reference to racist birther conspiracies, asserting that Obama was born in another timeline instead of another country. Dirk lays out a story (which he outright states was gathered from conspiracy theorists) where a tyrant, who speaks a distinctly Black flavor of English, eventually floods the earth. Between instances like these, I eventually inferred that Homestuck itself takes place within a conspiracy theory -- and a self-consciously racist one at that -- which raised more specific questions about unreliable narration than Homestuck was already encouraging with its meta motifs.

At various points, characters make revealing Freudian slips -- Karkat summoned an image of Jade "making out with herself" when he was trying to critique what she was "making herself out to be", for instance. The pun revealed an embarrassing, private fixation. When I was still focused on character psychology, I had some luck finding Freudian slips that weren't openly teased, which provided further insight into the characters' psyches. After shifting into the conspiratorial mode, I eventually applied a similar idea to the story at large: if certain word choices in the narrative are designed to reflect proximity to certain societal hatreds, then finding them allows us to piece together the paranoid conspiracies about the hated groups in question, which structure the narrative. I whimsically dubbed this activity "Slurquest". The allusions to homophobia and transphobia found via this approach made it easier to spot the same motifs in individuals.

The recent turn towards "the grotesque" (by which I assume you mean porn jokes) basically amounts to me catching a fairly simple joke: why does Problem Sleuth combine a film projector with a contracting waste disposal pipe? Why are allusions to sun-blindness accompanied by torn up toilets? The answer is gay pornography, within its utility for shock: the old internet practice of linking people images of huge distended assholes, to their displeasure, for laughs. Terezi's sun-blindness is on some level a repetition of Hussie's old gag "the elf saw a picture of a penis and started to cry", with the red sun acting as an abstracted goatse -- this is why Dave, whose apartment is haunted by the Red Sun, is likewise haunted by Bro's gay pornography. This ongoing sun/ass symbolism makes it funnier when Dave uses the phrase "privy to what I flame broil below" to describe Terezi smelling his ass.

That's the short of it, at least

#metameta

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flowerslut · 25 days ago

Text

Instructions Unclear

Summary: It was just a simple twelve hours, and if they were lucky, Renesmee would be asleep for at least eight of them. (Wishful thinking.) All they had to do was get her to bed. (Easier said than done.) At least nothing too bad could happen inside the house. (Famous last words.)

Jasper and Alice babysit Renesmee.

Post-Breaking Dawn. Canon-compliant.

Title: Instructions Unclear Words: 9,901 Rating: T for language and mild sexual themes Read on: Ao3 // or read a snippet under the cut

A/N: Hey hi hello @burdenedwithpointlesspurpose! I was your secret gifter for this year's @twilight-secret-gift-exchange! Hope you enjoy this goofy little attempt at writing a slice-of-life one-shot; it's pretty fluff-adjacent, I think. Anyways, I just love to put these two loser in Situations. Happy New Year! ♡

It started and ended with a bath.

That had been their first instruction. Number one on the physical list that Rosalie had left for Alice and Jasper. A list that was pointless, since she’d already gone over everything verbally with the two of them. A list that Bella had laughed over, Edward had glared at, and Alice had hand-waved away. Jasper had eyed it hesitantly from where Rosalie had propped it up on the table, her elegant script comically large against the notepad, as if the bigger she wrote the harder it would be for Jasper or Alice to fuck this up.

“Maybe she should have written it bigger,” Alice replied to a comment he hadn’t yet verbalized, and when she inhaled to speak more, Jasper could feel her full body shudder from where she sat behind him. The sound of her gag was muffled, but now that the faucet was off, it was as loud as a scream in the noiseless bathroom. Jasper opened his mouth to speak, but the air was still home to the wretched stench and he quickly closed it, cutting off his sense of taste and smell simultaneously. The discomfort at ceasing his breathing was far easier to deal with than the horrific sensory nightmare that was offered alongside the alternative.

“You know,” Alice began in a tone that implied he was going to hate what she had to say, but she continued nevertheless, “Nessie did warn you.”

Jasper could see her in the reflection of the window and watched as she flipped through the ring of measuring spoons. The clacking of plastic punctuated her point, and the noise was suddenly intolerable to him.

“I’m not convinced she didn’t set me up,” he complained under his breath, fighting the urge to reach behind him and still Alice’s fidgeting. He wanted to say ‘you could have also warned me’ but knew that it was a moot point.

The clattering against tile from across the bathroom clued him into the fact that Alice had given up on proper measuring, and soon enough she was pouring the entire box of baking soda straight into the tub.

The water fizzed at his side, and he finally turned his head to look at her. Alice was dressed head-to-toe in clothes that didn’t quite fit which he knew she’d either trash or burn after this. And she was currently studying the side of a second box of baking soda. He had half a mind to reach out and pull her into the bath himself, but—

“If you so much as even try—” her words were suddenly scathing, and her annoyance stifled his passing amusement instead of encouraging it “—I will let you do this alone next time,” she snapped, glancing up long enough for him to see just how much she meant that threat.

Jasper scoffed and turned back around, and the stench of the room made his own annoyance more palpable in the atmosphere. He knew she wasn’t referring to this specific predicament, but instead to the situation as a whole. “Who says there’s going to be a ‘next time’?” A small voice called from down the stairs. “I do!”

Renesmee sounded remarkably pleased with herself, only expressing a mere glimpse of the delight Jasper could feel radiating from her, where she was seated in front of the television in the den. He could hear the paper rip as she tore into another handful of sugar packets and just knew he and Alice would have to get the vacuum out. Again. Instructions two, three, and four, ignored all at once. But, Jasper thought, as Alice finally popped the lid off of the dish soap and started depositing it onto his head with a heavy hand, at least they didn’t fail step one. Well. Not entirely.

—

Jasper had not wanted to babysit. Jasper had been content to leave the child-rearing to every other member of his family. Jasper had been confident that he would always be permanently placed dead-last in the unspoken ‘people who should be in charge of nurturing another life’ contest amongst them. Unfortunately, multiple colliding forces had crashed together—feeling very much like the set up for a disaster movie set mid-apocalypse—and quickly he’d found himself staring down the barrel of a gun that, he was loath to admit, unnerved him in a way that actual war never had.

But they had been two weeks into January, and two weeks from the traumatic events of the Volturi’s visit, when Emmett made a comment in passing that spiraled into the catastrophe that now awaited him.

“You really gotta spend more time with Nessie,” Emmett had remarked on the walk back from a hunt. “She’s growing like a weed and you and Alice were gone for most of December.” He’d vaulted himself over a few downed trees as he spoke, never once breaking stride. “If you want to bond with her, you gotta do it now, while she’s still little.”

It was meant to be friendly advice offered as a passing comment as part of a larger conversation. It had been kind, really, even if Jasper did think it was a bit silly. He could bond with Renesmee once everyone else got their fill—her ‘baby’ days would be over before the family knew it, and Jasper was well aware of the way most of his family had always craved the opportunity to…parent, in a way that Jasper never had.

It hadn’t been what Emmett had said, but who he’d said it in front of, that had triggered this entire mess.

Rosalie and Esme, who had been trailing behind the two of them, had unfortunately been within earshot when Emmett had started talking. And of course, at the mention of Renesmee, their attention had locked onto their conversation.

Jasper, who prayed that Alice would catch up soon, Carlisle in tow, had suddenly felt her absence very, very keenly.

He’d picked his response carefully. “I think we’ll be fine,” Jasper replied, being sure to vaguely include Alice in his response, since it hadn’t just been him who was gone for those few weeks.

Then Emmett had shot him a look—a mere precursor before divulging the worst information he could have delivered with their specific, attentive audience, a quarter-mile away—and frowned. “Dude, on Thursday she asked me if you hated kids.”

“She what?!” Rosalie’s echoed exclamation reached them the same time she did. “Why didn’t you tell me!” She’d demanded of Emmett, looking every bit as frazzled as Jasper could feel from her.

Emmett had the decency to look a little ashamed of himself as he witnessed Rosalie’s acute distress, but shrugged, as if that were an explanation in and of itself.

Before they’d made it home, but after Alice and Carlisle had caught up, a plan had been put forth into motion to correct this horrendous oversight; this terrible circumstance that bordered on emotional neglect. Esme and Carlisle had already been planning a weekend up to Denali—it seemed Garrett was still hanging around Kate, and there were apparently conversations they wanted to have with Tanya concerning Irina’s execution—so Rosalie declared that she and Emmett would also make themselves scarce for a handful of days. It helped that Edward and Bella had been so wrapped up in their ‘newlywed bliss’ that Renesmee was spending most of her time at the house anyways. Now, all they needed to do—or, all Alice needed to do—was force Edward and Bella out of town for a little while, so that Alice and Jasper could get some “proper bonding in,” as Rosalie called it, Esme nodding enthusiastically to this terrible idea while Carlisle had smiled approvingly.

—

One week later, Jasper gifted Emmett a kidney punch as a parting gift on his way out the door.

—

finish the story here, on Ao3!

#twilight fanfiction #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale

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