#and its not even the angsty thing i was thinking while drawing

[aki-draws-things]

If, somehow, that happens before they go to top gun, while there Ice is worse than Goose back at the academy when he got his callsign.

Sure, Slider is constantly wrapped around his shoulders, never straying a step too far from him, and yes, mav is deadly sure he's more a protector than a RIO.

What's not seen, or actually, people fail to see, is the absolute protective streak following Ice. He checks, and double checks, for Ron. He makes sure he's alright. Safe. Hell, he makes sure he stop spending most of his night over review of flight plans to be sure they're flawless. (Because yes, Ice is one hell of a pilot, but he got am equation wrong one time and ron went all "and gentlemen, this is why I'm the RIO. Ice, honey, you follow through that shit you got there, we say hi to the mountain side from very close.". It was the only time, but for ron his safety was always before his own.) And eat. Because everyone who thinks slider is always eating can't be more wrong. He always has snacks hidden everywhere, sure, because Ice eats all the time. Ron would straight up forget sometimes.

But people don't notice the subtle ways.

Ron gets into one of his...uhm... usual trouble, at top gun too, if the way he sways on his feet and becomes pale after the afternoon playing beach volley means something. "I didn't not notice your boyfriend got heatstroke. I swear." Is the first thing he says to Chris over the phone, people would think he's calm, Ron and Chris know he's not. "You didn't not-- mh. Okay... I'll cross out heatstroke from our tab of shits that man got himself into to lead us to an early grave. Is he alright?" "Sleeping it off. He's better."

Mav learns, after hop 31, after top gun, after the Layton rescue, after getting together with Ice. Mav didn't really care for slider much before, him always being draped over ice made it also somewhat hard to have a moment alone with him. Not to mention the pet names. He honestly believed they were together, not realizing it was exactly the same way he always acted with Goose. But mav didn't exactly care, at first.

Until Ron bloody catches him when Mav slips from the ladder like an absolute rookie while trying to build a tree house for Bradley in their garden. It was the split decision, the way he didn't technically catch him, more like stopped his landing before Mav could crack himself open.

Ice is not sure how he feels, what he feels, when they walk back in the house, covered in dirt and a bit of blood.

"If you landed yourself another concussion I'm not gonna cover your ass with Chris. if you didn't land yourself one I swear, I'll make your head wish you did."

Mav learns that Ice is not actually angry, he's worried.

"Fine. Next time I'll let your idiot boyfriend fall all the way to the ground without trying." Muttered, like he doesn't really care. Ice knows him enough to know he would never. Mav's head is still wrapping around Ice's words.

"What you mean with another?!"

Mav learns.

And he learns it again, the hard way, when a car hits him, again.

But it's different this time, Ron learned, through a lot of threatening, he learned. But there was that kid who ran after his ball in the middle of the road. And there's a car coming up way too fast to stop in time.

The point is, mav learns that Ron is not just reckless like he had once thought, getting himself in various trouble, he's not like him. Most of the troubles have a reason that goes beyond Ron himself. And sometimes being reckless and selfless merge into a bit of a mess on the side of the road, with a kid wrapped securely in his arms, people screaming, mav running to him and ron trying to comfort the kid sniffling.

Mav learns, when he has to call Ice and Chris at home. From the fucking hospital. As his voice tremble as he tries to explain.

(Mav didn't care, he used not to care too much for him, all he knew was that he was a good enough RIO for Ice, and he could trust Ice's life in the air with him. But they all live together now, same roof, same rooms, living room, same days. And God, that fucking giant of a man will make him, them, go gray before they're even 30.)

@oh-surprise-its-me

Still a sketch, but a bit less messy, currently named "moments before disaster", just because.

Not sure what might have happened for sure, but sure enough Chris won't make it easy for Ron to be forgiven (for the scare). Nor will Ice the moment he finds out, and he will find out. He has a special sixth sense for his RIO. If they both found white hair on their heads, they know who to blame.

Might end up thinking of the angstiest idea for that. Or leave that to you, it's fine either way!!

[with-my-calamitous-love]

and i know i make the same mistakes every time / least i did one thing right

k. bakugou x reader

the trials and tribulations of loving japan’s fiery, #1 pro hero. pros and cons format, headcanons light nsfw but nothing too explicit, for his birthday ·˚ ༘

·˚ ✎ i have another bk x reader in the drafts but that one is very sad and angsty and i wanted to have a less heartbreaking one for his birthday so here it is (😭🤍)

song: call it what you want

pro: he spoils you

in more ways than just money or materialism. emotionally, he's there. he's so much more attentive than people give him credit for, knowing your little anxious fidgets or little details even you forget. the entire world could be calling you a liar, and he'd see the truth in you.

and physically? he's passionately rough, skin welding into yours, lips grazing your soul, fingers finding all those right places. he has one of two ways of acting in bed: either he's looking into your eyes, lips and tongue working in a perfect melody over your skin, drawing out every gasp from your lips. or, he's practically crushing you between himself and the mattress, making you forget your own name, never daring to stop until the sun comes up.

his love language is acts of service. he'll scoff in annoyance or groan when he holds your bags for you, opens each door and lets you sit in the passenger seat while he drives. he roll his eyes at your "dumb" gifts while he religiously wears the bright pink heart bracelet you got him some time ago. he'd never let you know it, but he's wrapped around your finger. he lives to see your smile. he knows that he's made mistakes, some of them over and over again, but he thinks of you as the one thing he's done right.

"you didn't have to do this." words that fall deaf on his ears as he hands you a bouquet of flowers, surprising you at work. though the surprise part was ruined, considering you could hear the sounds of him shrugging off and yelling at reporters while heading to you. he can deal with the flame, but not when it prevents him from seeing you.

"yeah yeah, just take them. your office needs it." he feigns irritation while pressing a kiss to your head. "dinner's on me tonight."

con: he has a temper

this is obvious. even years after graduating and making a name for himself, you have moments you remember UA high school student katsuki bakugou: the guy who'd call everyone extras because he didn't bother to learn anyone's names. the guy who was muzzled after winning the sports festival because if they didn't, he'd still be kicking and swinging. they guy who is mildly angry on a good day, and dangerously fuming two minutes after.

its one thing you've learned to love about him. he's a guard dog, barking and snapping at anyone who dares to even think badly of you. if he could be summed up in one word, it'd be protector. he'd give up a limb before giving you up, and act offended by the idea that he'd do anything else in that situation.

but similarly, its something both you and him feel exhausted over at times. you may truly be the only person in the world who can deal with him, even when he's saying fuck in every other sentence and his voice goes up 3 decibels. he respects you for it, but won't deny the pinch of guilt in his chest when he sees you taking a deep breath, summoning patience for his impatience.

he isn't sure why you put up with him. but he knows better than to question something he doesn't want to lose.

4 hours after an explosive argument, katsuki comes back to your bedroom. you can tell by his hair and wrinkled clothes that he's been tossing and turning on the couch. and katsuki can most definitely afford good furniture, which means the source of his insomnia is guilt- not bad cushioning.

sometimes, he apologizes like he's practiced and rehearsed it in his heard. for once, he's filtering himself, thinking of what he's saying, because what you hear matters to him. more than anything else does. "you didn't deserve to be yelled at. i'm sorry."

are you still angry? yes. do you miss laying your head on his chest in bed? also, yes.

pro: he’s loyal

the truth is, katsuki could have anyone he wants. models, actresses, other glamorous heroes like him. he's loved and adored and idolized by every flashing camera in the world. but all of that fades to nothing when he looks at you, knowing he already has everything.

his devotion to you is endless, even himself wondering how far he'd go to protect you. he knows deep down that his loves reaches till the end of the world. because with you? he has a reason to push through rubble and flames and blood, to put his life on the line each day, and to watch orange incandescence emerge from his palms and into the sky. hero work means nothing without purpose. you give that reason a whole new meaning.

he has a necklace he never told you about, just something he let you figure out on his own. it was brought to your attention after seemingly everyone on instagram was on some kind of mission to decode the silver letters he wore in a delicate chain around his neck, wanting to decipher what they mean. and when you do find out? he says nothing, just pulls you closer kisses your temple.

"i want one now.' you smile, eyes misty from the gesture. "with your initials."

"yeah, yeah, idiot. you have my card."

con: he’s insecure

and its something that no one would ever even guess about him. how could he, the up and coming number 1 hero, the most dedicated, handsome, strong person in the world, possibly be insecure?

he's used to being a tank, taking hits and punches and fatalities, walking it off before heading back into battle. he's conditioned to ignore the purple arising to the surface of his skin and the cracks in his bones that continue to grow. but you see it in the way he stays up at night, looking up at the ceiling, wondering which day will be his last if he dares to blink and be anything less than perfect. or when he keeps the shower running cold, like trying to wash out those sticky, gloomy thoughts that penetrate his head. he's the best. he's supposed to be the best. what if one day, he suddenly wasn't?

oh, and the reason katsuki knows how to deal with panic attacks is because he's had so many of his own. even after recovering, they've gotten worse after the war. if its not doubts, its memories of the pain, of the blood he didn't realize he could lose, the life he lost for a heartbeat. he knows death. but it isn't his own death that scares him. the thought of losing anyone else to that fate is the worst possible thing that could ever happen to him.

"told you i'm fine." he utters, cocking his head to you as he gets into bed. nobody died, and his agency wrote it off as a miscalculation, but he almost broke down in the shower after he failed to prevent a fatal accident while on patrol.

"its just me and you here." your voice mellows over his hidden anxieties, like honey. the breath he lets out his shakier than he'd like it to be as he starts to open up.

pro: everything he is, is yours

sometimes he wonders what exactly he's able to offer you. a nice life, for starters. protection and security. but beyond that, katsuki looks at you and finally understands why people lost their minds and fought wars. he understands the nervousness, the anticipation, the longing.

he looks at you, and then himself. at his hypothetical or factual shortcomings and imperfections. he sees them and wants to keep growing, to keep getting better until he deserves you. he’s always lived to be the best. but now he lives to be the best, for you.

and at the end of the day, he has nothing to prove. he’s already everything. the world can call it what the want.

[edges-of-night]

I’m so happy you’re back I adore your writing! I wanted to request one where the reader comforts the lotr characters after they have a nightmare💕

Thanks love

This is a sweet request, anon! It turned out a bit angsty, at least in parts... I hope you’ll enjoy the read ♡

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn frequently dreams of Narsil, Isildur, and the shadows of his ancestors. Those nightmares leave him distraught and at first even disoriented. It takes you a while to get through to him with soft Elven whispers and gentle hands to steady him. When you do, he does calm and holds onto your hand tight and keeps mumbling weakly, “Meleth nín…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Nightmares are worse for Elves than Men, due to their gift of foresight which amplifies the bad things they see in their dreams. The dark future Arwen sees at night haunts her during the daylight, too, but you are there to hold her hands and offer a shoulder to cry on. While she won’t lose hope easily, the shock in Arwen’s heart is deep every time.

.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir won’t tell you about his nightmares until he would start crying one morning, seemingly out of the blue. You are there to comfort him with a gentle hand on his back and all the silence he needs to collect himself, before finally opening up about his fears and the nightmares they conjured. “At least I have the certainty you would not think less of me, knowing what you know now…”

.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

You wake by Elrond’s side when his nightmare punches him out of sleep. For long, terrible moments, he was back amidst the fires of Mount Doom, desperate lungs filled with poison smoke and disbelieving eyes on Isildur’s back. Now you can provide him with air and water to bring him back to the cool calm of Rivendell.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

It has taken you far too long to wake poor Éomer from his nightmare. His feverish, sweaty, desperate face would have broken your heart had it lasted any longer. But war leaves its invisible wounds, and Éomer wasn’t spared. He holds onto you for dear life as if he was only half-way back to reality, but you tell him everything would be all right.

.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Upon waking her from her nightmare, Éowyn draws her sword at you, staring you down with a fury you have never seen in her usually so kind eyes before. You back away slowly, speaking softly to bring her back to reality and away from whatever has been haunting her. When she recognises you, Éowyn bursts into tears, hiding her face. “Oh, forgive me! Forgive me, love…!”

.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Childhood trauma has often kept Faramir awake, but creeping its way into his dreams was even worse. When he wakes, he needs only seconds to reorientate himself, but would then cover his mouth to not wake you with his sobs. You, of course, are not bothered but concerned by what you hear and offer Faramir to spend the night awake with him until he would fall asleep in your arms as you watch the sunrise.

.

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo tosses and turns in his sleep with big sighs and sobs which eventually wake you up. You know that Frodo isn’t an easy sleeper, but his nightmare phases still shock you anew every time. You gently wake him up to tell him everything was fine, and at first Frodo genuinely seems relieved. However, you know that the following hours won’t be easy for him, so you keep supporting him with kind words and his favourite tea, taking it easy all day.

.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Nightmares are so rare for Galadriel that she has no way of dealing with them. They bring tempests not only to her heart but Lórien, too. You stay with her throughout and guide her back to the light in the days afterwards. She is weak but leans on you for incorrigible support. Thanks to your care, closeness, and words of affirmation, the Lady of Light can return to her normal life.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf’s nightmare has summoned thunder and lightning, keeping you from sleeping. When you try to deliver him from whatever evils keep chasing him, a magical fire flames up. When you try to touch Gandalf’s shoulder again, it diminishes, and you manage to wake him up. The storm is gone almost in an instant, and Gandalf’s face is as soft and friendly as ever. He won’t talk about his nightmare right away.

.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

One night, you would hear quiet sobs next to you and realise Gimli was crying in his sleep. He would not wake up easy when you pat his shoulder or caress his arm, but eventually his eyes would open and he’d meet yours with a sad and tired gaze. Perhaps he would like to talk to you about his nightmares of Moria’s fall at a later point, but for now, he is content with you letting him cry without judgement, stroking and kissing his hair gently.

.

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Out of fear of giving others leverage against him, Haldir won’t tell anyone of his horrible nightmares. Since your sleep has always been light though, you notice very soon that something is wrong with dear Haldir. While he would deny your offers of comfort rather coldly at first, he eventually asks you to simply listen to his sorrows so that they no longer weigh down his heart. You know how bad the sentiment is for Elves, so you thank him genuinely for sharing it with you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

As with all Elves, nightmares are poison to Legolas due to his Elven abilities. Darkness and terror spread in his heart, and it will take him weeks to recover. You are always there to hug and kiss him – physical touch is what comforts poor Legolas the most in these times. He is as restless as ever, but you remind him that he is safe with you. “Indeed, there no fortress in this world where I would be more secure than in your arms, my love.”

.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry always tries rationalising his nightmares, to the point where he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable and let his fear sink in. That is where you can help your poor Hobbit the most: by reminding him that you will always be there for him, no matter if it’s the middle of the night and some random “nonsense darkening his mind”. You sit down with him by a fire and talk about it all.

.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

After nightmares, Pippin is often still scared for a longer time. After helping him calm down, you make sure to light as many candles and lamps as possible. Food is also a good comfort for Pippin, which has led you to make strawberry sandwiches at three in the morning twice already. To ground himself further, Pippin would also sometimes sing to you quietly.

.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam’s nightmares are intense but thankfully leave as quickly as they come. He usually sleeps well whenever he is with you, and you comforting him after a traumatic dream reminds him why: You take him seriously, sometimes more than he himself does, and don’t ridicule the encounters of his nightmares. Cuddles and a bit of talking usually do the trick, and the two of you fall asleep again soon ♡

[darksigns-exe]

sudden desire - noah sebastian x reader

warnings: handjob (m receiving), subby noah, a little angsty moment near the end

word count: 1.7k

note: a little birthday treat for my dear @deathblacksmoke <3

masterlist | taglist sign-up

You know he’s had a long day as soon as he walks into your apartment. He’s quiet, more so than usually, his shoulders are tense and there’s a persistent frown on his face. 

You usher Noah under the shower, telling him to take his time, but that you’ll fix him something to eat in the meantime. 

You’ve been friends for a few years now, and you like to think that you’re somewhat close. Noah frequently uses your place as an escape from band related things. When things get a little too much for him at home, he shows up at your place, and you gladly take him in. You know that you can rely on him just as much. No matter what time of day it is — if he’s in town, he’s coming to your rescue. Even if the dilemma is just a late night ice cream craving. 

While Noah showers, you fix him a plate of left over lasagna. He tells you about the songs they’re more or less working on. Progress has been slow recently. Apparently, he and Jolly have butted heads over where to take the song, and you can tell that it’s getting to him. 

Noah settles against you, while you catch up with the reality show that you’ve started a while ago. Over the course of the episode, he slowly slips further down, until he eventually ends up with his head in your lap. You know that he’d never outright ask for this. And still, he ends up in that spot. 

As always, your fingers card through his hair and with every pass Noah seems to relax more and more. You let your fingers scrape against his scalp just enough and, to your surprise, he lets out a breathy little noise. You try to keep your movements steady, hoping that it’ll relax him further. 

Noah shifts against you. 

You glance down at him. His eyes are fixed on the television, but something tells you that he’s not paying attention to it.

So far, your friendship has never moved past the conventional rules of friendship, but something about the energy tonight makes you feel as if you might be able to push those rules a little. 

Your free hand finds its way to his side, fingers tracing across the sliver of skin revealed by his ridden up t-shirt. 

Noah draws in a sharp breath when your fingers make contact with his skin. 

You feel him tense up under your hand, and you pause immediately, unsure if you’ve gone too far. 

He looks up at you then, eyes blown so wide. There’s an unspoken question between you, but you can bring yourself to ask it out loud. 

Instead, you carefully resume your touch and slowly let your fingers explore more of his skin. 

Noah’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sigh. 

“Is this okay?” You finally ask. 

He drags his eyes open again. 

Noah draws in a shaky breath as he gives you a barely there nod. 

“Need a little help relaxing, huh?” You ask quietly. 

The sound he lets out then shakes you to the core. In all the time that you’ve known Noah, you’ve never seen him like this. 

“Please?” 

You can’t possibly say no to him then, even if this is entirely uncharted territory. You trust that Noah will tell you when something is off. 

Your hand continues to wander along his body. Noah eases back against you, his body becoming lax as you continue to play with his hair. 

After a few more minutes of that, you dare to let your hand drift lower. Your fingers skim across his tummy, and you feel the muscles jump and twitch under your touch. 

“Can you —” the words catch in his throat, as his breath hitches, “Would it be okay if you — I know we’ve never done this but — could get me off?”

You’ve never heard him sound so hesitant and — shy. You know that this could change things between you, but how are you supposed to say no to him? Noah doesn’t ask for affection, sometimes he just takes it, drapes himself over his friends like a fully grown Bernese mountain dog who still hasn’t realised that he’s not a puppy any more. But you can count the occasions on which he has asked for affection on one hand. And you won’t even need all five fingers. 

You need a moment to gather yourself, before you finally give him a reply. 

“I can do that.” His eyes light up a little at that, “What do you need?”

“Just your hand is okay.” His voice is so uncharacteristically quiet. 

Seeing him so meek is entirely new to you. Not that Noah is usually loud and brash. But today his whole demeanour seems changed, and you really cannot explain what could have brought this on. 

As slowly as you can manage, you work your hand behind the waistband of his sweats. He shifts when your fingers brush against the imprint of his cock on his underwear. You almost miss the little sound he makes. As your hand drifts across his length, you discover that he's quite a bit bigger than you thought he’d be. Not that you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how big your best friend's dick is.

You pull his underwear down just enough to let his cock slip free. The breathless little sound he makes worms its way into your brain. 

To make things easier for yourself, you ease down his sweatpants too. 

Noah shivers when your hand curls around him. 

You set a slow rhythm, returning your attention to the show playing on the TV. You keep your movements steady. Between your hand in his hair and the one on his cock, you feel him relax against you quite quickly. 

Noah’s staggered breaths fill your ears. 

You glance down at him, finding him with his eyes wrought shut so tightly. His lips are pressed together, keeping himself silent. You’re determined to pull those pretty sounds from him, though. 

Noah gasps when you start to stroke him with more intention. You can’t help but smile. Seeing him like this, entirely at your mercy, only makes you want to see how much further you can push him. 

You shift your attention towards the head of his cock. Your teasing touch makes him shift and move against you. He looks so pretty writhing under your attention. His hips shift forward, trying to meet your touch. 

You halt your movements, but his hips won’t stop. For a few moments, he continues thrusting into your hand. And when he finally notices that you aren’t moving any more, Noah lets out a quiet whine. 

His eyes flicker upwards, finding your face. 

“Why did you stop?” he asks, eyes so wide. 

You drag your hand out of his hair and trace it across his cheek. 

“You seemed to be so happy to get yourself off with my hand. Didn’t want to disrupt you.” 

His cheeks tinge bright pink then. 

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

Noah gives a near desperate nod, “Yes. Please.”

You start moving your hand along his length again. This time, his eyes stay fixed on yours. Your movements remain slow and teasing. 

The little crease in his brow appears soon after that, but he’s still holding back. Your hand tightens on him, hoping that it’ll draw a proper sound out of him. You think that you’ve almost got him where you want him, but once again Noah’s lips clamp shut. 

“You don’t have to be quiet, Noah.” you say, struggling to hide your amusement. 

You slowly drag your hand back up along his cock. 

He lets out a breathy whine when you tease the head with your thumb. His hips follow thee motion of your hand once again, but this time you don’t stop touching him. 

Whatever had stopped Noah from letting you hear him before, seemed to be out of the way now. His pretty whines and moans fill your ears. 

You decide to push your luck even further. 

“Does that feel good, hm?” 

Noah gives a frantic nod in return. 

“Be good. Let me hear you.” 

“So good.” the words are followed by another gasp. 

By now, he’s reduced to pretty whines. Occasionally, you hear a mumbled please from him. You think that he has to be so very close to his climax now. Noah looks so beautifully blissed out. 

“Please don’t stop.” Noah whines, looking up at you with tear stained eyes, “Please, I’m so close.” 

The way he whines and begs for you truly messes with your head. You’ve never been in a position like this, and really you’ve never imagined yourself here either. But now that you’re here, watching him fall apart at your hands, you feel so very comfortable. 

Noah spills his release across your hand a few short moments later. His body stiffens, growing taut as he rides out his high. 

When Noah’s sounds eventually quiets down again, you remove your hand from his cock. You reach for the box of tissues on the side table to wipe his release from your skin. And when you look back down at him, you find Noah already looking at you. 

He looks so soft and tired, exhausted in the best way possible. 

You tuck him back into his underwear and sweats, before you trace a hand across his cheek. 

“Feeling better?” you ask softly. 

Noah gives a nod, “Thank you. I’m sorry that I kinda sprung this on you.”

“I said yes, didn’t I?” your fingers trail along his jaw, “I could have said no.”

You both fall quiet for a while after that. 

Noah eventually breaks the silence again, asking if you’d mind if he stayed here tonight. Naturally, you say yes and a little while later, you’re both trying to get comfortable in your bed. You watch as Noah tosses and turns for a little while, before you decide that you’ve had enough. You shuffle closer to him and wrap your arm around his middle, keeping him close against your chest. 

“Try to get some sleep.” you mumble, as he slowly eases into your embrace. 

He’s still curled up in front of you when you wake up, and you can’t deny that it fills your heart with an odd kind of warmth. He trusts you so wholeheartedly. Your feelings towards Noah have always been friendly, but suddenly, you’re not so sure of that any more. For the sake of your friendship, you decide to push any of that towards the back of your mind.

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[quickestgold]

After the Dust | Part 1 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader

Chapter 1: Darkness

Backstory to Goodbye, My Lover | JACK

Recap: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things.

Synopsis: You've seen each other at your lowest. But never like this. A darkness, you'd long forgotten, is slowly creeping in.

Warnings: War trauma, ptsd, s*icidal tendencies >>> she’ very angsty with a tiny bit of comfort sprinkled in if you squint

Word count: 1066

A/n: It‘s backstory time besties… and whatever you do, don‘t listen to Forever by Mumford & Sons while reading this haha….. PLEASE tell me what you think in the comments!!

Next Chapter 2: Light | Chapter 3: Peace

You know this feeling well. The calm after the storm. After yet another tour. You‘re slightly older. More lines on your and Jack’s faces. More bruises. More scars. Both painfully aware, that the worst ones are the ones neither of you can see.

In the distance, you can still hear the howling. The rush still pulsing through your veins. Taking you back.

And you can‘t help but stare.

But there‘s something else. Slowly creeping in. A darkness, you‘d long forgotten. You thought you’d left it behind. Naive, you now realize. It‘s been with you all along, tightening its grip around you, suffocating.

A hand squeezes yours gently, “You‘re still there.“ Jack‘s voice, soft but broken, momentarily anchors you in the present.

You are walking, not quite sure how you got here. The cemetery has become your place of solace. A quiet reminder of those who didn‘t come home, when you did.

Of course, there's the shame of making it back. But there's something else too. Drawing you in. Something eerily familiar. A longing, you can't quite articulate.

Jack tries to hold onto you, but you‘re pulling further away from him. Not literally. No, you remain steadfast in his grip. But emotionally? You're slipping away into darkness.

Coming here was your idea. Jack always found it a bit morbid. But he would walk with you anyway. Anywhere.

“I‘m right here, Jack“, frustration evident in your tone.

Jack just shakes his head silently.

You huff out a humorless laugh. “Like it was easy for you to come back last time...“

“It wasn‘t“, he counters almost immediately. “But I let you in.“

His words sting. He‘s right. You know he is.

You feel as though something broke within you this time and you‘re not sure how to mend it.

“We were happy.“ It's more of a question, than a statement. The distance between you feels overwhelming. “I know you‘re hurting, but I love you. And this will pass, I promise.“

For a moment, you believe him. You feel a wave of love washing over you, it’s comforting and familiar. But as you come up for air, guilt suddenly hits you. For the sadness you’re causing Jack. For not being able to be the person he still sees. For being envious of those who didn‘t-

The realization frightens you to your core--

But your attention is suddenly drawn to a bird landing on a gravestone just a few feet away. For a brief moment, everything is still and the bird’s movements are almost too quiet. You feel your chest getting heavier, as you remember how a small sound in war could mean the difference between life and death.

Now you really are there.

Jack notices immediately, placing a hand on your shoulder to bring you back. You flinch, instinctively stepping back. "Y/N, you're here with me. We're not at war. We made it home. We're safe."

You'd feel ashamed of reacting this way to something so peaceful, but the threat of danger clouds your rational thoughts.

"Take a look around. Tell me what you see", his voice even softer now.

Usually, Jack's words would really work, ground you. Hell, you'd used it on Jack a couple of times too. There was always a quiet understanding between you. To be there for each other, despite your own battles within.

But in this moment, you both realize that healing isn’t that simple. Surviving the war was one thing. Surviving the aftermath together might be even harder.

You listen to the wind calmly blowing leaves off trees, like a faint peaceful whisper calling to you. But it's wrong. It starts to feel like a shrill noise in the distance, haunting you.

Your eyes are still fixed on the bird. It seems to mock you. Pulling you in. As if it knows you are too close to the edge.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus your attention on something else. Anything.

But the peace you came here to find slips further away with every passing second.

The sound of your breathing feels too loud, too ragged. You blink repeatedly, as you stumble forward, your legs unsteady as though the ground beneath you isn't real.

“Hey!” Jack’s voice is suddenly sharp, his arm wrapping around you.

“Breathe with me,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

But it isn't.

Jack’s voice is muffled. His hand tightens around yours, but it feels like he's reaching for a ghost.

"I don't know how to live like that anymore", you finally breathe out, voice breaking.

Your head is a battlefield, flashing memories you never wanted to remember and a voice, your own voice, telling you that it's easier to just let go. To take the leap into the abyss. To forget and be forgotten.

But you know it doesn't work like that.

Jack.

But the darkness takes you anyway.

A sterile scent hits you. Familiar, but unpleasant. You still feel unreal, like you're in a dream, or a nightmare, but the pain in your chest is all too real.

You register every movement. Why are your eyes closed?

Your body feels heavy, too drained. What did you do?

"I'm here." Jack's voice echoes in your head. Where is here?

Jack paces beside your bed, worry etched into his features. The tests Robby ordered only mildly reassure Jack.

Exhaustion. Sure, you'll be fine physically, but he didn't say a word about the emotional toll.

Jack’s eyes are tired too, but every time they flicker towards you, there's a desperate kind of hope, as if he needs you to wake up from this dreamlike state and tell him that you are okay.

But you want to be anywhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere where you could just stop feeling everything.

Somewhere where you wouldn’t hurt anyone. Especially not Jack.

Jack’s voice breaks through your fog. but you can't bring yourself to open your eyes. “I can’t… I don’t know what to do. You‘re slipping away and I-”, his voice trembles. “I can’t lose you.”

It finally dawns on you, it's killing him to see you like this.

You feel the pit in your stomach grow. You want to speak, to reassure him, but you can't even lie to yourself, let alone him.

It isn't the first time the thought crossed your mind, to step away from the chaos.

But it is the first time Jack is close enough to see it.

I told you she was an angsty fic, I'm sorry!! Stay tuned for part 2... reader will be fiiine of course (!), this is the backstory to Goodbye, My Lover.

As always, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist, but pls make sure to comment/share your thoughts if you do. ♡

[firefly--bright]

forwards, beckon, rebound.

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; falling in love with jean kirstein was too easy. realizing and living with it, however, was more difficult than ripping your own heart out of your chest - veins and all. warnings ; unrequited? love, mentions of alcohol at the end, a little angsty. a/n ; im not doing well LMFAO its okay guys...its okay.... i have another thing im going to post tn before going on an undecidedly long hiatus so!! i hope you guys enjoy this <3that being said i think college will be the death of me also mini thank you to @\samepictureofjeankirsteveryday on instagram!! i wasnt going to post this fic originally but she lowkey made me want this baby to see the light of day :3 taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic-again , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable, @candleohappiness , @zombiefiedskeivy , @1ovede1uxe

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ requests for headcanons are open! ✿

middle tile art creds ; @ppushable beloved

Falling in love with jean kirstein wasn't too much of a task.

Realising you were in love with jean kirstein, however, proved to be a big one. 

You dont realise it at first. Of course not, that would be too easy and stupid. You couldn't give yourself the permission to do that - to intrude on someone else's life so easily without guilt; because liking someone, romantically or platonically, has always been a selfish act, one that you were hesitant to commit. It felt like a crime, really. The first time he sat next to you on the couch despite there being more than enough room on the other side of it, cushions perfectly clean and waiting, he sat next to you. 

Nothing came out of it. He sat next to you the whole night - the first night you two got close and talked about your stupid lives even after everyone had called it a night, with two glasses empty of any beverage, already long gone under inattentive care, because you’d rather look at him. His hand was in the air, actions drawing themselves in the space around him, claiming the place to be his without hesitation. He’d say something, you’d make a bad joke, he’d stifle a laugh and lie through his teeth about it not being funny. You’d say something unimportant, his elbow would be on the back cushions of the couch, supporting his head, hand tangling through his hair - not that you were staring at it when your eyes pleaded for something else to focus on. He’d lick his lips absentmindedly, nodding to your story. He’d make a silly, offhanded comment that you’d milk out into another joke, and he’d stutter his responses. The night went on, drowsily, and you decided to reluctantly surrendered to sleep as his eyes slipped closed to your voice, head directly on the back cushions. As if he had forgotten the conversation that occurred two minutes ago - “And.. i mean, yeah, i get it, but- are you.. Are you falling asleep?”

“No, no. of course not. Just… resting my head. Go on.” 

“Your voice just got deeper, man, stop lying-”

“No! Im.. im serious. Im listening. Keep going.”

“Right,”

“Come on, i wanna hear you.”

“... oh. Right, so then…uh.”

“Mhm.”

“Uhm…right so, i got, what she was saying, but then again, why would she need to-”

And the conversation followed with just you speaking, a little hushed, pretending not to notice how his breathing evened itself out completely, his finger twitching every so often. Pretending not to notice, really, because that's all you'd been doing all this while. 

That was your first offense, you suppose. Pretending the love wasn't there. Pretending he isn't this easy to love, this easy to find your way back to. His presence was the one thing you looked forward to with each large group hangout until it was just the two of you - he’d asked you to accompany him going grocery shopping. “Connie wants some stupid fucking water gun.” 

You had laughed, unserious at first. But his voice did’nt waver through the phone, making you wonder out loud, “wait, for what?”

He sighed. You could almost feel his breath through the speaker. “April fools is coming up. Your guess is as good as mine,” he said, “anyway, i’ll come pick you up in ten?” he questions, as if you’d ever refuse. You could. You really could. But part of you wanted to know why connie would need the gun and what exactly he’d do with it just so you could be prepared incase of oncoming attacks. But the other part - the bigger, more selfish, more hesitant one - wanted to spend time with him because the aspect of just going grocery shopping sounded appealing. 

Appealing, as if it was something more. 

Maybe it was. Jean had a way of making every task of yours feel special. His eyes were always on your movements, something you appreciated, his blatant observation an endearing trait after you’d been gone unnoticed for long enough for you to feel non-existent entirely.

You dressed appropriately. Made sure your hair was good enough. Swiped a finger over your eyebrows to shape them before heading out. He was waiting under your apartment, back resting against the shining metal of his car, thumb hovering over his phone as he waited. Your shoes clicked - did they squeak or did they click? The dirt seemed interesting. - and he looked up at you before smiling. “Where do you think the best place to shop for a watergun could be?” an important question. You hummed in faux thought, mind only filled with his cologne, and the fact that his feet were only a couple inches from yours, “i dont know. Did connie not say where? Considering he’s such an expert?” you said, and he snorted. “Right. He just gave me a very specific model to look for. And the money for it, surprisingly.”

You made a joke about stealing the money and buying something “pretty for himself” which was met by slightly reddening cheeks and a scoff. “I look pretty in anything. I mean-” he stuttered over his own words, stumbling over consonants until he landed on, “i- we should..uhm, go. Before it gets too late.” you wanted to ask what you could possibly be late for, but he opened your door for you before you could say anything, and sped-walked to his side of the car. It was the two of you, the silence of his car, waiting to be broken. 

He asked you to play a song. You played careless whisper. He laughed. A full-bellied, deep hearted chuckle that you were sure you’d keep hearing over the course of the next few months if not your lifetime.

When april finally did come, with a summery breeze to accompany it, connie’s prank set itself ablaze. The “prank” being that he and eren would go around - “no, the point is that no one can see it coming!” - college campus, spraying their elaborate victims with a not-so-discreet snicker, not realizing that the cold water was a treat rather than a trick. “If that’s the point then youre fucking failing because your shiny bald head and his fucking stench is enough to let everyone know youre coming from miles away,” jean had said, hands folded over his chest. Armin stifled a laugh while you snickered in broad daylight, unashamed. 

Maybe that was your second offense - finding him fucking funny. It wasnt even your fault, in all honesty, it should be his for being witty and quick on his feet to make a remark that he knew would make you break. And you knew he was out to get you because sometimes he’d lean in close to your ear and whisper the joke against the loudness of the rest of the world - in a language and words only you could hear and understand and almost wait for his prize. Youre not sure if your laugh was his prize or the pride that came with the idea of being funny was, but you presented it to him without hesitation either way. 

How you couldn't realise you were in love with him in those moments always made you question your own instincts. 

It felt like a crime. Little offenses that would add up to one big debt towards the big national system that was out to get you - letting your yearning run rampant and unchecked while you sat on the floor, wondering, questioning, untrusting of your own feelings. What else could you do, really? When your love had been dormant for so long without any interaction, was it really your fault that it did not know when to wake up and tell you that it was real? Your crimes didn't matter. The number of them, their destruction. It wouldn't have mattered if the love would’ve just told you what it was instead of concealing itself under layers of disregard and faux indifference. 

And the worst part is that it didn't even escalate. His actions remained the same and so did your unnerving, unnatural feelings, laying bare-boned in front of you. He’d call you late at night, usually on tuesdays or fridays, and ask you, surprised, what you were doing up this late. You were always up this late, you'd say, even if it was him who called. Youd turn the question to him and he’d tell you about how he couldnt sleep because he was playing a game with your friends. 

“Why are you whispering” he had asked, ever keen about your every action. 

“Sasha’s asleep on my lap,” you said, your hand in between her brown hair, conditioned and soft between your fingers. 

“That doesnt answer my question.” he said. You could hear his blatant smirk through the phone.

“I dont want her to wake up,” you said, a smile of your own creeping on your face, slowly, carefully. It was meant to be there, though, however much you didnt want it to be, like moths to a beautiful flame. 

He hummed. Fluttering of patterned wings flying towards a bright orb. “What else?” god, its like he wanted you to peel apart and let him observe the shredded, unmoving pieces. Maybe he really did.

“We watched the perks of being a wallflower,” “oh?” “yeah, sash said she wanted me to see it-” “you’ve never seen that movie before?” “i mean, i did now,” you muttered, voice now only a little bit higher, smile growing only a little bit wider. Moths to an open, inviting flame.

“Jesus. Thank god she did. Did you cry?” he asked, eager. “Do you want me to cry? Thats telling-” “-no i dont want you to cry,” “hey, im not shaming your fantasies, im just-” “my fantasies dont involve you crying.” you pause before speaking again. “Right.” “i mean- they.. They involve you - like all of you guys, hah, just..not crying. Happy,” you hum. The moths get dangerously, hopefully closer to the burning flame. Its painful and its warm. “Whatever. Did you cry?” he asks, and you allow him a laugh at that. You wonder if he has moths of his own. Maybe dragonflies. They suit him better, you think for a split second, before his fire invites you again with a calloused hand, crackling firewood. “See, the fact that you’re not answering is more of an answer.” You shrug, knowing he cant see it. Part of you wonders if he knows you well enough to commit your actions to memory - enough to know when you're doing them, enough to predict them like a well choreographed dance. “I cried a little. Like, one tear, and then i stopped,”

“Right, sure.” “you know, you forcing an answer out of me is also more of an answer.” you say, flipping the conversation over on it’s head, the dancers doing a somersault on the thin cracks in your ribs.

“what? How?” “now i know you cried while watching it-” “i did not-” “-or else you wouldnt want me to be as miserable as you-” “i didnt cry, i dont even know what youre talking about,” “i can literally ask sasha.” “you wouldnt…do that,” he says, unconfident. you suck in a dramatic breath, pretending to get ready to shout sasha’s name, before he interrupts you with a slight terror behind his teeth, “okay, i cried like, a little,” he says, his voice a little static, but you could hear the expression he was making behind the layers of faux cockiness. You hum knowingly. “Just a little,” “dont sound like that.” 

You breathe out a laugh, smile reaching your eyes, your cheeks pushing against the phone on your ear. “Sound like what?” “like…like youre judging me,” “im not judging you! Im all for crying.” “just not enough for you to do it?” “i’ll cry when i need to.” “and when’s that?” “i dont know, maybe when they declare that, like, all chocolate has lead in it or something, and they ban it.” there was another pause. You gauge his reaction, a flash of regret for your statement, and then a laugh from his end, crystal clear. Even with the phone hindering your view of him, its perfect - the happiness resides in his chest, and it makes it’s way out because of you, crawling into your arms through the shitty microphones that the big companies cant seem to perfect, and youre afraid it’ll catch a hold of you and you would never be able to shake it away; the feeling of his laughter in your chest, shared and kept and bottled up in the shape of something familiar but terrifying and real. You dont realise youre also laughing a little by the end of it. 

“That wouldn't stop you from still eating it.” he says. “Fair point,” you reply, playing with a strand of sasha’s hair between your fingers. Your love has always been louder than you would've liked it to be, its shouts keeping you awake at night, the harmonies - or lack thereof - disrupting your usual schedule. It had to find a way to get out, and you weren't sure where to put it once it did. Where your love could find a place to rest without urgency, silent under a warm gaze. You didn't know where to find it. 

you suppose your next offense - and it was a big one this time, staring at you in the face until you were too scared to look away - was actually noticing. 

not that you didn't before. it wasn't unknown, the fact that he put meticulous effort into his appearance, combing his hair a certain way, wearing different colours that he knew worked, smelling nice. he was the one who made it known, a pretentious boastful laugh about how he'd bought a new perfume after sasha pointed it out, telling the table of five that he actually had the money to buy it and he was going to use it to it's fullest extent. but then you started noticing the unimportant details, the natural ones that came as a habit to him but became holy to you. waving a hand through his hair after it unravelled from its former position throughout the day, wearing the bracelet you had hastily and ironically made for him as if it was a part of his own wrist, regardless of if it matched his outfit or not, his perfume wearing off sometime in the middle of the day, but the residue of it could only be smelt when you were sitting close to him, brushing his shoulder with yours. All the unimportant things, you think, a big weight on your already hesitant shoulders, weak under the boulder you were trying to push. 

The way his voice dipped when he muttered something he knew was unimportant but wanted to be known anyway (you wouldn't tell him you would always keep those mutters in mind - chanted scriptures until they're all your tongue and ears remember). The way he fidgeted with his rings sometimes, slipping them off of his finger and and onto the next, continuing to do that until all his fingers had worn the jewellery (one time it slipped and fell through his fingers, an unnoticeable action, and his fingers hovered mid empty air, grasping metal that had slipped away). The unimportant scar on the front of his right shoulder, only to be seen when he wore a tank top during the summer, when he’d told you he’d saved a dog from a car accident with red cheeks and ears - a telltale lie. You let the statement lay in front of you before smiling with an exaggerated, proud puff of air, after which he had immediately went back to his story to correct it. The reality was that he tried diving into a pool once - only for his shoulder to be scraped up on the diving board, along with his jaw, as he fell. He said this ungracefully, scratching the back of his neck and waving his hand as if it wasn't a big deal - and you would agree, it wasn't a big deal. yet. There was always a yet. You wanted to write down all his words, through his stutters and higher-pitched words, his unintentional pauses, and etch them into your spine. What good were your bones if not to be carved under a weathering, hopeless love that could never prevail? What good were your lungs if not to build a home out of unbreathable air?

Unimportant. You’d call your love that; a universal truth. You couldn't give yourself the permission for more than that, for an offense greater than the one you’d already guiltily committed. 

Falling in love with jean kirstein was out of your hawk-eyed control. Realising you were in love with jean kirstein was an unmistakable, out-of-question, universally bound reality that you couldn't escape. Or maybe one you didn't want to escape. 

You weren't hopeful of a reciprocal or even a secure future. You were never quite the hopeful one, and maybe that's why you chalked yourself up to a non romantic person who’s forbidden to use those big movie words with the big important meanings and the confident and hearty laugh after a confession. Being a romantic took a hell of a lot of hope, something you fundamentally lacked, something that you could never live up to. 

So this was it. Staring at you in your face, his eyes brown and a little golden at the edge like a pot of pouring honey, warmth under those tones, unhidden with full and weighted importance that you never had the permission to receive. His shoulder - the scarred one - is pressed up against the wall and the party is loud and his cup is almost empty, his first drink of the night, and his cologne is fading away only a little, a strand of his hair falling on his forehead. And this wouldn't be a big issue if it wasn't for the fact that you were thinking about it all, the unimportant parallels and the god like, important-unimportant words, etched into your hesitant and tired vertebrae. His smile is soft. Has it always been? Were you deserving of that? After all of your committed offenses? 

“This punch is fucking disgusting,” he says, changing the previous topic, smelling the drink in his hand. You were incapable of speaking, of using your big mouth and small words. “Its.. interesting,” you finally muttered, looking down at your own cup, your thumb rubbing gentle, controlled back-and-forths on the rim of the cup. you‘re not sure how he even heard you but somehow he always does.

“I can make a better one for you,” he says, as if he doesn't have anything better to do. “No, im good. I dont want to get… y’know,” you say, eyes pointing to the vague direction of a now-shirtless connie, waving the shirt in a loop over his head disregarding the beat and rhythm of the song completely.

Jean’s eyes remain on his friend for a while. “Yeah i wouldn't want to get…that either,” he says, and you snort an unattractive laugh, and when you look back up, he’s laughing with you. Smiling at your unimportant sound, his hand holding the cup by its rim and dropping his elbow down so the cup rests somewhere near his thigh. 

Unimportant. All of it. But somehow holy. Human condition. 

He moves towards the kitchen either way, claiming something about having non-alcoholic fruit beer in the fridge just for “this”. He says “this” as if its a confession, something he’s been meaning to get off of his chest, “this” like he knows your unimportant and off-handed comment about not wanting to drink from last week and carrying it around like an effective poem, life altering with every sentence. He says “this” like it's important. Somehow holy, human condition.

And he follows through, with whatever his “this” meant, and hands you a can of some kind of soda. A sip later, you find out its peach flavoured, surprisingly addictive, not too sweet. You steal a glance at the front of it, a bright and vibrant logo greeting you with a smiling mascot of a peach with sunglasses. You look back up at him with a raised eyebrow. “This was a conscious decision?” you ask, turning the front of the can to him so he could see what you were referring to. A smile split his face, followed by faux annoyance and an eyeroll, “thank you, jean, for always thinking of me,” he says, high pitched, and the implications are not lost on you, and he continues when all you do is smile with a breath of laughter, “thank you, jean, you bought me my favourite flavoured drink-” “thank you, jean kirstein, my saviour, for thinking of me,” you say, the sound getting lost somewhere in between your mouth and his. His smile hangs on his face with pride, an action you unknowingly put there. 

God, and falling in love with jean kirstein was so easy. Easier than breathing, more conscious than involuntary blinking, more natural than your fidgeting hands. 

But realising you were in love with jean kirstein was more uncomfortable than the act of being alive, more conscious than the fact that your voice could produce a sound that occupied space, more careful than your hesitant thoughts. 

Everything chalked up to this; loving jean kirstein was easier than any feat you couldve ever done. Any holiness, any prayer, any selfish and hopeless act of greatness that was trapped in your veins.

Realising you’d always love him, realising maybe you’d always be stuck in this limbo was the only thing that proved to be difficult. You're a creature of habit - habitual sighs, rhythmic steps, habitual solitude - and you'd never been prepared for this. But it was okay.

Being in love with jean kirstein - and realizing you’d always love him - was okay. Habitual. All offenses could be just those - offenses. Habitual. You’d learn to live with it as you did all other things. 

✿

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[minijenn]

That feel when you spend the past several days drawing for a forgotten niche AU you created years ago that you've just been having severe brainrot for lately and you have to get it out of your system somehow so you just... draw.

Anyway, Thorn in the Gut AU! Perhaps the most angsty little AU my brain ever did create back in the old UF days, I'm still quite fond of it. Its just chock full of drama, conflict, existential crisises, all that good stuff! And so, for those of you not in the know, here's a whole dump of info about it to go along with the art! (copied most of this from Discord so excuse any wierd formatting)

The basic gist of Thorn in the Gut spawns out of RMD (Rifts/Memories/Dimensions) and basically starts when Bill lands a practically fatal blow on Stepper (instead of cracking his Gem) and Steven, realizing both he and Dipper won't survive this, essentially "poofs" (lets his physical body disappear) and sacrifices his gem over to Dipper to keep him alive. Anyway, Dipper winds up back in Gravity Falls alone, much to the alarm and anger of the Crystal Gems especially when they realize Steven is basically dead (not them blaming a literal child who had no say in any of this). From there, the following ensues:

The Gems are A Wreck but they are still deeply attached to that gemstone (because of Steven and because of Rose) and they really don't know how to interact with Dipper now as a result; eventually, they force him to move up to the temple because he very quickly starts showing he has Steven's powers now but he can't control them because he is also A Wreck with survivor's guilt and grief over losing his boyfriend (did I mention this AU is Stedip? Well its Stedip) and his heavy emotions are making them wonky

They also watch him like a hawk because they think Steven could somehow return at any moment; they're also just like, hella impersonal with him; basically any sort of warmth or goodwill they had toward him has completely evaporated and they just view him as "the reason why steven is gone"

Garnet probably just... never talks to him like ever. Pearl is a sobbing wreck but is also surprisingly the most sympathetic towards Dipper out of the Gems (bc she knows about Rose and Bill's history to a certain extent and also knows thats at least in part why Bill attacked Stepper so viciously and why all this happened in the first place). Amethyst is just mad and probably prone to verbally lashing out at Dipper in frustration the most.

Stan and Ford are Fighting obvs bc Ford thinks Dipper staying with the Gems is for the best (also not Ford also kind of lowkey starting to negate his own nephew as a "fascinating breakthrough discovery" because of how scientifically impossible what's happened to him should be; Stan, meanwhile, is furious at how both Ford and the gems are acting, he's one of the few people still entirely in Dipper's coner, along with...

Mabel, who while mourning Steven herself wants to be there for her brother so badly but can't be because the Gems and Ford won't let her be, claiming that its for her own safety when really its just to keep her out of the way of a very delicate situation; even so, the twins still try to see each other as much as they can and comfort each other however possible (potential eventual fusion between the two?? maybe)

Connie is fucking mad, mad that Steven would sacrifice himself like this, mad that he'd sacrifice himself for Dipper, mad that Steven is gone and she can't do a damn thing about it. As a result, she distances herself from both the Pines and the Gems for a good long time to grieve on her own (but even after she comes back around, things remain hella tense between her and Dipper)

Other characters: Lapis is fuckin squicked the fuck out by what's happened here, because something something its comparable to permenant fusion, but even so she tries her best to support Dipper even though its difficult for her; Peridot is kind of lost in the shuffle of all this, like Mabel, so I feel like that's where she's lending most of her support; Pacifica? ehhh I mean this AU works under the assumption that Stedip is kind of the only currently canon MK ship so she probs wouldn't have much to do here 😛

Fucking forgot to talk about Dipper himself you know like he aint the damn focus character; so he's in Shambles, emotionally distraught for a number of reasons; his boyfriend is gone and he can only speak to him in his dreams (and those dreams are usually sweet… until one certain triangle starts showing up in them); amidst still reeling from losing Steven, the way the others are all treating him leads him into an existential crisis, because to the Gems, he's Steven, he's Rose, to Ford, he's an experiment, to Bill, he's an obstacle in the way of a prize, to the diamonds (if this continued on into UF2 which it could), he's Pink, and with all that in mind he truly starts to wonder if there's anything really left of Dipper at all

And the bad guys; Bill is furious, obvs. it doesn't take him long to start showing up during Steven and Dipper's little dream chats, causing all sorts of chaos and being just a general bastard all around; but he wants that gem, he has a deal with White to make good on after all, and he's determined to do whatever it takes to get it, even if he has to guilt trip Dipper into ripping it out of his stomach himself (which may or may not happen); as for the Diamonds I mean they'd probably just think this is "Pink" playing another one of their silly games, like they think about Steven so not a ton changes on that front? (even still, I summed up that this boy is in Danger in the span of time that would be UF2 in that one art)

Oh and of course, Steven's status. He is… aliveish? Of course, he doesn't have a physical body anymore, kind of gave that up entirely when he "poofed" bc he's half human. At first he's only able to communicate solely to Dipper through his dreams (and like Stan and Mabel, Steven is completely in Dipper's corner and is fucking mad as hell about how the Gems are acting towards him). And eventually, he makes that frustration known by using his possion powers to take control of Dipper (which Dipper allows, god who cares about past trauma, anything to make the Gems see reason) to tell the Gems off, but he isn't able to do that for very long or very frequently. I'd like to think Dipper can also sometimes "hear" Steven speaking to him through his thoughts when he's awake too. Basically, Steven is always with him ^_^

After getting steven's gem, Dipper maintains Stepper's hair color and skin hue :3 and he also starts wearing Steven's shirts bc fuckin gay grief compells him to wear his BF's clothes and then the Gems, fucking freaks that they are are like "nah you should keep wearing them" even when he doesn't want to anymore. Oh! and another thing, Dipper doesn't see himself when he sees his reflection in the mirror, he sees Stepper (represented in the art).

Since Dipper has to stay in Gravity Falls (because how the hell is he able to leave with all of these newfound manifesting magical powers), Mabel ends up going back home alone with a spare memory gun Ford gives her in tow. She remorsefully uses it to erase Aaron and Allison's memories of Dipper so they won't ask questions she isn't able to give answers to :3 Also, Dipper is unaware that this happens until some point in UF2 when Mabel breaks down and tells him. Suffice to say it basically ruins whatever is left of his relationship with Ford (not that it was good at that point anyway because well, Ford is basically using him as a lab rat)

Basically, without Steven around, most of the cast is just... fucking not acting right bc steven was basically their moral compass so they figure why even try anymore without him around (the gems and hell even dipper included, he makes some pretty questionable decisions in this AU himself)

Just, its all about identity, really, about how the way others around you treat you can impact how you view yourself for better or worse (in this case, worse); it's about loss of agency and how grief can drive people to act in some... pretty terrible ways.

Anyway yeah that's a Lot but its my current obsession in the In Between time of S1 and S2 and I figured I need to chase my bliss (bc how else will I cope with The Horrors if I don't put my favorite blorbos through Horrors of their own. Expect something to be written from this AU... eventually idk man probs not anytime in the immediate future tho lol it's just a silly fun little side thing. Anyway enjoy the Pain! ^_^

[lunarmothim]

lines in the sand - simon riley x gn!reader

Ghost is the first to draw back. He always is.

word count: ~700 tags/warnings: just some garden variety mild angst, mild hurt/comfort small descriptions of wounds, minor shit talking of florida.

hi friends have a lil angsty drabble i decided to finish instead of focusing on my other responsibilities that is all :)

The jungle is hot. The air is humid, damp and swampy, a wet heat that has sweat pouring down the back of your neck even in the shade of the safehouse with the sun long below the horizon. It's gross- it kind of makes you think of everything you'd ever heard about Florida, not that you'd ever been. Not that you ever wanted to go.

Still, it's a thought that distracts you from the fire in your arm, the burn of the graze wound Ghost is currently cleaning out for you. Thinking about the last place on earth you'd ever want to visit keeps you from thinking about the way your knees are stretched to fit Ghost's hips between them, standing far closer than he really needs to with one large hand wrapped around your bicep, the other swiping antiseptic-soaked gauze over the wound. It doesn't hurt much, the local anesthetic he'd injected doing its job to numb your nerve endings.

"Got lucky," he says quietly, shadowed eyes fixed on his work, trading the dirtied gauze for a fresh one. His hands are gentle, cautious, like he's afraid you might break. It's a pattern of his, you've noticed, something you've only ever seen him do with you. "It's superficial. No stitches."

"Good." You watch the swipe of his finger through the shallow wound tract, the antiseptic leaving a wet sheen on the blue nitrile gloves from his med kit. The colour looks strange when you're used to seeing him in skeletal-patterned black. Your breath catches when his fingers flex, tightening slightly before relaxing again, your voice wavering slightly. "Thanks."

"'Course." Your gaze tracks up to meet his, finding him staring down at you. His mask does nothing to hide him from you.

How many times have you done this now? Too many, you think, looking between guarded brown eyes that have refocused on his task and the gentle way he handles you. Always dancing on the edge of something neither of you are quite sure how to name, something you're not sure either of you are ready for. One wrong choice away from something you can't take back.

Your hand closes over his before you can really think too much about it, closing your eyes when he inhales sharply. His thumb smooths over the edge of the bandage he's just secured over your arm. His exhale is shaky, his forehead pressing to the crown of your head.

It's the closest thing you'll get to an acknowledgement from him, the closest he'll ever allow himself to get to the narrow line you're both walking. The line he'd drawn himself almost a year ago now, in a similar safehouse in a different country while you frantically tried to keep his blood in his body, begging him not to bleed out on you.

You'd told him you loved him that day, sobbing the words between shattered pleas and promises you weren't sure you could keep. A cliché uttered when you thought he was dying; words you should have said sooner, words you shouldn't have said at all. Words you'd meant and refused to take back.

And you know he loves you too, in his own way- he hasn't said as much and you know he never will, but he doesn't need to. You see it in the way he looks out for you on ops, always searching for you in his peripheral to make sure you're okay. You feel it in the tenderness of his hands when he patches you up, the way he lingers for a moment too long before letting go, the violence of war so deeply ingrained in him entirely absent in the way he touches you.

You feel it in these moments, his breath warm on your forehead even through his mask and the way he stays close, just listening to you breathe.

Ghost is the first to draw back. He always is, closing himself off from you again. The nitrile snaps as he pulls his gloves off, cleaning up the mess he'd made patching you up.

And as always, no matter how much it kills you inside, you let him go.

dividers by: @/gildui

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! :)

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

an ISAT animatic popped up and reminded me of my favourite trope, so now more crumbs manifest:

TIME LOOPS!

time loop where reader goes back to the very beginning of her adventure, and now has to face the fact that the cubs were warlords, and now she has a second chance to do things over. perhaps this time, she can escape their attention. reader is, unfortunately, a bleeding heart, and always picks them up, so its a case of trying to be as uninteresting and apathetic as possible while getting them to flower fruit mountain.

but reader cant hide how much she cares. throwing herself in front of threats, taking care of their injuries with great care, always being gentle with them.

the only way she could escape their love would to stop being compassionate, but compassion is an inherent trait to reader.

no matter what she does, no matter how much she changes between each loop they still love her anyways. she can never escape.

TIME LOOPS!

time loop where the monkey duo constantly re-experience the day reader successfully escapes back to her world. you would think being overpowered would help, but no. it seems like reader was going to escape them, one way or the other. the very first time they managed to stop her from returning back to her world, she perished, presumably from her injuries.

only after many more loops do they realise that reader is the cause in every loop she has died. today was the day she was going to escape them, one way or the other.

they just keep losing her.

TIME LOOPS!

you know how there is an encounter where sun wukong and macaque fight in jttw/lmk, and how sun wukong kills macaque?(idk how lmk handles it) how about reliving that day, again and again, until wukong can figure out a way to not kill him? starting at the very beginning of the confrontation, ending a few moments after the fatal blow.

one loop he manages to delay the fight, trying to see if making it through the day will break the loop.

nope!

once the sun sets, it loops straight back to the beginning of the confrontation.

and he cant exactly die to escape the loops, can he? and trying to not fight macaque leads macaque to try and kill the pilgrims instead, and if sun wukong doesn't protect them, then its circlet time! he always has to fight macaque

is this punishment for killing his love? to forever relive his final day by his hand?

TIME LOOPS!

honestly someone should do the pilgrims in an JTTW/LMK X ISAT AU, i would read it. its 5 for 5 and if sun wukong takes the place of siffrin macaque could take the place of loop. lady bone demon as the king, tripitaka as the person who is the key to the party's adventure, pigsy and sandy rounding out the team, and ao lie as the support.

idk who would be headmaiden tho. don't know enough characters off the top of my head.

you could even have a reflection in lmk, and draw parallels of the last time it happened, make wukong think he went back into the time loops again, but its mk this time instead

TIME LOOPS!

i can never get enough of them. i hope you like my crumbs as much as i like your fics.

Okay first things first. I am so sorry that I am definitely going out of order with these Crumbs!

I get ideas for one and it’s not the one I’m supposed to be working on and I am sorry. But~ I do love these crumbs and am trying to work my way through them. One at a time~ Get it time hehe!

I can’t honestly say that I know much if anything really about ISAT. So forgive me for only understanding time loops.

Now as for time loops? I can’t say I’d be putting them in my main fic. However! These are amazing ideas which would be so angsty!

One minute Reader in stuck on Flower Fruit Mountian and the next she is back standing under the tree that she first met the monkeys under. They had just fallen and she was holding them in her arms. She wants to throw them out and run, everything in her tells her to run… but, how could she!?

These are her monkeys! The same ones who she cared for and loved for months.

Reader staring at Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque. Both were staring back at her for just a moment before one of them bit her! Even with the tiny teeth biting into her skin she didn’t feel pain, this kind of pain was nothing to her now. Tears filled her eyes catching Spirit’s attention.

“Reader? Are you alright? Damn cub he needs to let you-“ She was cut off as you held the two closer to you trying to push away any thoughts of what was to come.

You could throw them out, you could push them away but… how could you? They were so small, so defenseless right now. Even knowing who and what they are you can’t bring yourself to do anything but hold them. They were perfect like this, they had been so sweet and kind to you with an innocence that you truly believed in. However even while they were still ‘sweet’ and ‘kind’ to you in the future they were so dangerous and murderous now.

"Reader let the monkey go," Spirit said calmly, however at her words you did the exact opposite, you couldn't, you couldn't let them go.

"Flower Fruit Mountain... there is a way home on Flower Fruit Mountain, I know where it is on the island," you finally said.

The way home from there wasn't destroyed yet and you had time. You had the time to get them there and get home before the curse broke. You were sure that you had the time, the time to get Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque back to their home before they would fall in love. Just ignore their looks and don’t let them get out of sight. Easy, it was just that easy.

You wished it had been that easy, at every turn these two tried to run off. They thought they were still invincible and weren’t listening to anything you would say. You tried to be mean to a point but just one look at their faces and you would melt.

“It’s not fair,” you grumbled one night after Spirit laid down to bed. She didn’t think you should bring the monkey cubs along but you refused to leave them behind.

Both monkeys looked at you and cocked their heads to the side. They didn’t run away because it was so dark that you could barely see anything in the forest around you even with the fire blazing in front of you. Monsters stayed away from these flames, it was odd but very helpful in the woods.

“After everything I should hate you two, but how can I do that when you are so… I shouldn’t even be saying anything…” The two in front of you were confused at your words but you attempted not to say anything.

Tears filled your eyes as you looked as you looked at them. It was so unfair. They were defenseless and weak right now anything could hurt them. Maybe that was why, maybe that was why you wanted to see them back in their Warlord forms. At least then they’d be able to fight for their own protection.

“When you return to your true forms… do me a favor and don’t look for me. You don’t need me,” you muttered as sleep overtook your mind.

*Chirp?*

You knew who they were and you knew they’d return to their true forms. Looking at each other they came closer to you curious. You were so quiet when you slept and it was strange to see you so calm rather than running after them. At least not with the tears that had just fallen from your eyes.

Who were you? And how did you know who they were?

Curiosity was always what sparked how the two fell in love with you. They would stop running long enough to know you to learn about you and to love you.

With each time the time changes she would inevitably become the source of curiosity for the two monkeys. They learned about you in every world. Delayed your return to their home to capture you before you could find the way that you return home. Destroy whatever was in their way to keep you by their side.

This one didn’t really go into the time loop part of it too much, sorry about that. But it’s not a bad scene in my opinion at least.

>>><<<< Reader’s daughter (one of them)

However this also depends on what time Reader is taken from the future! Is it during when she’s first taken to Flower Fruit Mountian? Is it during the journey? Is it during the LMK time? Is she with them willingly at this point? Does she have kids?

Yes you eventually have kids, so if its after you have kids with the two warlords then well I’ve had a little scene in my head for a while now. Where one of your children goes to the past and you has to get her back!

“But they hurt you,” Her words cut through you like a knife. You don’t fight with your husbands all that much, so why does she know this?

“Honey-“ You begin to say.

“Uncle Tang told us about how you all met the Warlords, he said that you got hurt more than once too!” She was crying at this point, your daughter, your ever strong and determined daughter was crying.

Your eyes flickered to the monkeys (weather in warlord form or cub form) and sigh. It’s true, they hurt you before. They never meant to but there was more than once that you ended up hurt. But you turned your attention right back to your daughter and kneeled in front of her.

“They did. They hurt me, but they never meant to,” You explain cupping your daughter’s cheeks, staring at her heart shaped mask and deep golden eyes. She looked so much like her dad.

“Then why!? WHY WON’T YOU CHANGE IT!?” She yelled but froze when you laughed. You laughed at the words, you knew why you wouldn’t change anything not a single thing would be changed at least not by you.

“Because, because no matter what happened in the past, I love you, you and your siblings. If what happened in the past didn't happen then how would I have gotten you or your siblings?” You asked a smile on your face, reassuring and calm.

She sniffled, eyes wide with shock as if the thought didn’t cross her mind. However when her eyes went down cast you knew, she had thought about that. She had known there would be consequences but she wanted to spare you the pain.

“Besides, no matter what happened in the past… I love them too. Both of them, through thick and thin, through joy and sorrow. They are mine and I am theirs,” You explained, your own eyes brimmed with tears as your daughter threw herself into your arms and letting out a sob.

It was like when she was a tiny cub again she curled into you as you pulled her close to you. With a sigh you smile and take the artifact that you used to find her out of your pocket. You looked at Sun Wukong and The Six Eared Macaque and give them a soft smile before allowing yourself and your daughter to be sent back to your own time.

Sun Jin, also nicknamed Jinx is mostly like her dad in the aspects of personality and appearance. She has a very low amount of shadow magic, (compared to her siblings) and extraordinary strength. In strength alone she can match many celestials and high ranked demons alike. She is a pure mama’s girl and will do anything to make her happy, even if that means breaking time and space itself.

>>><<< Reader escapes to her world

“NO!” The pure boiling rage echoed through the cavern as the light died down. Everything was still around the now shattered crystal that lay in shards across the cold stone floor.

You were gone, again! How many times has this day reset? How many times had they lost you to the damned portal that continued to take you away!? All they wanted was for you to stay with them and be their Queen. They wanted you safe and cared for, you’d never be in danger with them and you would have everything that you’d ever asked for.

Macaque was the first to move, scooping up the shattered crystal with a look of rage across his face. Every time, every fucking time. You would never stay here- NO! He refused to believe that. They would get you back one way or another, weather you agreed with them or not. You were their beautiful and loving wife, they would get you back no matter how long it took.

As the world around them shifted to them returning to the beginning of the day, Wukong curled around you. Every morning started the same, you three were sleeping in bed before going about your day. The day that you would find a way back to your world, and leave them behind.

No, you wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer. Macaque would make sure of that. Without a word he got out of bed, giving a smile to Wukong who looked at him with confusion. He wouldn’t explain not this time, he wouldn’t give his mate false hope before getting to the bottom of this.

It didn’t work, of course it didn’t work. Wukong screamed as he held your lifeless body in his arms, his body shaking with pure rage. His eyes almost glowing red as if he were about to use his power to destroy anything in his path. He barely held himself back as Macaque stood behind you both.

No! How did this happen!? All he did was break the crystal, the same crystal that constantly took you away from them again and again and again. All he did was take away what was taking you from them!

He couldn’t even bring himself to approach you two instead backing away with a look of horror across his face. This was his fault, in his selfishness, he took you away permanently. Tears, real tears filled his eyes as the wind howled around them, shadows lashing around as the ground cracked beneath his mate. They couldn’t stand this!!

Once again the world shifted to the morning before, hearts pounding in their chests as they curled close to you. They wouldn’t loose you, not this time.

Not this time.

Not this time.

NOT THIS TIME!

>>> Random thought

Okay halfway through this one I came up with an idea! So I have a way for Reader to get home from the island, one that the monkey duo is constantly trying to destroy. A crystal that was formed within one of the caverns deep underground. Now with that information what if the day that she constantly escapes is the same day that she keeps getting sent to the past!

Just a thought, I thought it was neat. In that case the crystal would be what is sending her to the past… oh! Flower Fruit Mountain has tons of artifacts so the one they could be fighting against is a time travel device while there is still another crystal to her own world. Yeah, that could work.

>>> The day Macaque dies

Now I don’t think I’ll be having Macaque die in this Au, and if I do it’ll only be temporary. However- The ANGST! So not at all canon, but how can I resist.

Though I don’t think any of these are fully canon to this Au, but meh they have been so fun to write!!

Blood dripped down the side of Wukong’s staff. Everything in his world froze around him. Macaque’s once vibrant eye the only one visible dimming until they held no light and no life. A scream was heard almost instantly, the staff thrown to the side in favor of Wukong cradling his love in his arms. No, no, no! How could he do this!? How could he do this to his warrior.

His own vision blurred as he pulled his mate into his arms and let out a sob. How- how- how!? This isn’t real, none of this was real. This wasn’t even possible! He tried to reason with himself, there was no way that any of this was possible.

The sun behind him was an array of gorgeous golds, oranges and reds as it set below the sky. Allowing the moon to show from high in the sky, as if it was mocking him.

He opened his mouth to scream once again only for his entire world to shift. And once again be standing in front of his enraged mate.

“I don’t want to fight you!” He yelled, knowing this wasn’t the first time this has happened. However it was only not the first time for him, to his beloved mate? This was the first time they had seen each other in a long while, the pilgrimage having taken him from The Five Fazes Mountain. He needed to complete this journey to be free, to go back to his mate at all.

“Then get out of my way!” So he could get his revenge, so that Macaque could do what he came for.

Time and time again, his own mate’s blood covered his hands quickly making the King go absolutely insane. Blood would cover the ground one way or another this day and there was nothing that could be done about it.

I loved this ask! Again I’m sorry that I took so long with this ask! I do love this idea! And once again I really don’t know that much about ISAT, if you could let me know more about it I might look into it. That is not a promise but I might get intrigued enough to look at it.

[hyukalyptus]

focus on me — yeonjun x fem!reader | besties to lovers. NSFW/MDNI!

cw. reader has a vagina/clit, cunnilingus, hair pulling, pet names (love, babe, baby), nipple play, kinda emotional and sensual (not angsty), kinda cringe but whatever, yeonjun kinda guides reader lol notes. my first lil fic on my new blog! for those of you finding this in the tags, this is bibibinnie! i had to make a new blog, but it's me! it probably would've made more sense for my first post back to be kai related but oh well, i'll get em next time. anyway- this is supposed to be a really slow, sensual, romantic-ish smut. i hope y'all like it. smut under cut! wc. 1.2K

“I’m nervous…” you trail off, closing your legs, but his hand still caresses your hip. 

“Love—” he says, his smile dropping at the sight of the awkward expression on your face. “Can I call you that?” You nod, ensuring to smile because, well, the nickname does warm your tummy. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I want to though.” 

Your name falls out of his mouth in a whisper, “I’m not doing anything unless you’re one hundred percent sure.” It was a fair point. You’ve been best friends for forever and feelings, while they grew over time, all seemed to make themselves known so suddenly this evening during a typical friend date. 

“Yeonjun,” you sit up straight, using your elbows for support. “I’m one thousand percent sure. It’s just—I’m nervous. You know I’m shy…and it’s a lot of pressure—”

“If you feel like I’m pressuring you, then I don’t—”

“Nonono, you’re not pressuring me at all,” you say, relief written all over his face. “It’s just a lot of pressure to…y’know…make you feel good too.”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I will. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I was going down on you, love. I just wanna taste you—actually, I wanna make you feel good. That’s all I care about.” Looking down at him, he has the cutest smile on his face and you can’t help but return the smile back. “Yeah?”

-

“Listen to me, okay?” You nod. “I want you to really feel me.” Ghosts of fingertips brush against the inside of your thighs. The most delicate of kisses placed right at the top of your thighs. “Close your eyes,” he says. Following his instructions, you let your lids fall closed, laying your head down on your pillow. “And just feel me, baby.” 

The smallest prod at your wet center makes your heart race, waking your entire body up, your pussy clenching around his fingertip. He’s simply gathering your wetness to softly slide between your lips. Just barely missing your clit, your hips roll with his finger. 

When he finally does rub against your clit, though, you gasp, reaching for his hair, but, “No,” he halts. “Don’t touch me. Feel me. Feel how I’m making you feel.” 

“But—” your chest rises and falls with your breaths. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Arms at your sides.” Your body rolls again. “Feel it all in your body. Pay attention to your toes…your fingertips…your chest…everything.” 

Woah. This is definitely something new for you—someone so focused on your pleasure and your pleasure alone. And it’s magical to say the least. 

Something new finds its way to your clit—his tongue. He glides it devastatingly slow across you and you gasp again, earning a nice low groan from him. “Feel good?” You nod. He’s talking to you, tongue replaced by his thumb. “Control your body. Take deep breaths, focus on me, love.”

“Fuck, Yeonjun…” is really all you can make out, drawing a chuckle from him. 

“Feel the difference between this…” he flicks his tongue over your clit delicately and slowly, sending shivers down your spine. “And this—” then he glides his wet lips over your sensitive bud, a completely new feeling to you, forcing you to buck your hips up into his mouth. “Breathe,” he whispers before gently sucking, releasing you with a wet pop. 

This is just so…you don’t know what to think. He’s making you pay attention, making you feel everything, making you feel things you’ve never felt before. The way your muscles react to his movements, how heavy you’re breathing, the spinning in your head. 

“I feel those goosebumps,” he chuckles, his tongue continuously flicking your clit while his hands graze your bare thighs. “Feel how the air feels on your skin.” You’re noticing more and more things—you can feel the hardness of your nipples without touching them, sweat dampening your back, his nails barely digging into your squishy thighs. “God, you’re delicious.”

Your pussy flutters with his words. And for a moment, his tactic changes—he’s just tasting for himself for a bit. It’s no longer slow and delicate, it’s deep and intense. But when your fingers find his hair, it wakes him back up and he slows back down. And it’s absolutely delicious. 

Everything is heightened—you’re hyper aware of everything—how your toes barely wiggle, your pussy barely fluttering, how trapped your tits feel in your bra. 

“Stop—” you blurt and he stops immediately, asking what’s wrong with a worried face. “Sorry, I just need to take my bra off,” you chuckle with an eye roll before quickly slipping it off from under your shirt, keeping them covered by your thin t-shirt. “Continue.” He’s hesitant, eying you up and down. 

“Can I?” He asks, tilting his head toward your chest; you answer with a simple nod. He keeps his fingertips on your clit, continuing to rub gentle circles as he delicately lifts your shirt past your tits. And his reaction is everything. Eyebrows stitched together in relief, mouth dropping open at how gorgeous you are, a hungry look on his face. But he follows his own advice. He controls himself, taking deep breaths before placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin under your breast, finishing it off with some licks. “Keep your eyes closed, love.” 

You nod, letting your head fall back again, taking deep breaths. 

“Feel this?” The tip of his tongue finally glides over your hard nipple and you gasp again, rolling your body. He flicks and sucks your nipples so fucking well. And— “Can I bite them a little?” Nodding furiously, you can’t wait to feel that little sting of his teeth. And oh does it feel amazing. Two fingers inside of you, his thumb on your clit, tongue and teeth on your nipples. 

“Yeonjun—” your breath is heavy. “I’m gonna cum.” He halts. 

“Breathe,” he whispers, lips peppering kisses all over your tummy as he makes his way back down. “Hold it for a bit. Don’t focus on cumming,” he places another wet kiss to your inner thigh. “Focus on feeling me.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Babe, I want you to focus on feeling your orgasm,” he says, making you chuckle.

“Of course I’ll feel it.”

“Just pay closer attention to how it feels this time.” Switching positions of his tongue and thumb, he wanted to make sure you came in his mouth but your nipples weren’t ignored. And you can hardly bear it. Everything simply feels incredible and you’ve never been made so aware of your body before. 

The wetness of his tongue flicking your clit. The length of his fingers pumping in and out of your cunt. The deliciousness of his thumb and finger playing with your nipple. 

“Jjun, please—” He knows what you’re asking. And he’s finally nodding, letting you let yourself go, cumming hard against his mouth. Your clit pulsates against your tongue, your back arches with bliss and euphoria, and your moans are the prettiest he’s ever heard in his life. 

And you listened to his instructions. You took the time to feel every last bit of your orgasm and you noticed things you’d never noticed before…wiggling toes, contracting muscles, breathy sighs. 

It takes a bit for you to come to your senses after coming down from your high, but you’re greeted with the smuggest smile on his face.

“Fuck.” 

“Damn, you’re so fucking hot when you cum.” 

[number-onekidqueen]

Hey!!!

Could you please do Luke x Goth!fem!reader where they are dating secretly, and Luke finds out she’s getting bullied for how she dresses he decides to confront the bullies and put them in their place 

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Luke Castellan x goth!Hades!reader

apologies for the awkward spacing, my laptop is going through some glitch 😭

angsty fluff

warnings: bullying, verbal abuse ig, a few swear words, necrophilia mentioned (NOT A THEME), Stacey is a cliche warning, mentions sexual themes

summary: even if goth isn't his style, luke is happy to put a few haters in their place, if it means making you feel better.

"You don’t like it, do you?”

He shook his head insistently. You laughed.

“No, I think it’s cool, I just don’t listen to this kind of stuff. It’s new to me.”

You and Luke were sat on your bed in Hades cabin, listening to a cassette you had snuck in this summer.

It was actually how your mum had bonded with Hades. She always told the story of how she had been walking home from a shift, listening to her favourite album on her Walkman, completely lost in the bass and cacophony of drums, unaware of her surroundings. Too late she had noticed a drunk driver swerving towards her. And then a man had come out of the gloom, drawing her safely away by clutching her cassette tape and headphone wires. She’d been at a loss for words, and he’d simply walked away.

He’d met her the next night, returning her Walkman with praise for her music choice. And every night later he’d appear somewhere along their journey, and they’d converse about music and fall in love.

That very album was what you were listening to at the moment. And from the look in his face, it certainly wouldn’t be making its way onto Luke's playlist very soon.

“I know it’s loud, I get it,” you reassured, “I guess I just love the…. Passion.” You didn’t see while you were rambling, but the look Luke gave you then could only be described as adoring. He loved when you ranted like this. “These artists, they’re pouring their heart and soul into everything. Every word they scream, and string they play, they’re giving their best performance to do so. I find it so amazing.”

The sad thing was, not many people shared your view on that, which led to the predicament you were in.

Well, it wasn’t just the music. It was probably the way you dressed too.

Regardless of your explanations, people were always going to stare at your black shorts, choker and smoky eyes. They would always whisper ‘goth girl’ as if it was a swear word.

But you never thought they would be quite so mean. Come on, you were one of them, right?

Wrong, apparently.

"Hey, emo, anyone die lately, or just your style sense?"

This particular jab came from Stacey, an Aphrodite girl who just seemed to loathe you, and was your polar opposite with her glowy make up, tight camp tee and cropped shorts.

Usually you ignored them. Sure, some of their comments were mean, and sometimes you could hear them when you looked in the mirror, when you applied your mascara, when you lay in bed in the darkness. But today, you were done. You were so sick of Stacey sniping and sneering at you. You were going to bite back.

"I didn't realise dressing for men was considered style, but if so, then sure."

There was silence as she gasped at your comment, looking at her friends in shock and for support. She scowled then, and chewed her gum obnoxiously in what you guessed to be an excuse to think of a comeback.

"I'm sorry I get a reaction from men. Kinda sad that black and death doesn't turn anyone on, huh y/n? But I'm sure you don't care. Probably have some relationship with a dead body, right?"

There were muffled giggles as all the Aphrodite girls covered their mouths at her retort. She began to smirk at you as you blinked at her in shock, genuinely hurt.

"I don't get you, Stacey. Why would my style have anything to do with that? How do smoky eyes have anything to do with-with necrophilia or whatever you're suggesting? What the fuck?" You spat, and you walked away from her, hating that you had been defeated, that that stupid girl's words made your eyes feel heavy with tears.

Because to her, you'd always be weird. That one goth girl who always wore black no matter the occasion. Who barely got a first glance from boys.

It was then you wanted to scream to them how much you knew Luke cared about you. You wondered how much their opinions would change, if they knew camp's golden boy was sweet about you. But you never did, because you knew they wouldn't believe you, and so it led to tears and frustration, locking yourself inside your cabin and crying until your face was a runny, smudged mess.

You'd settled yourself against the wall for around half an hour, your hands in your hair as you bathed in misery and insecurity when you heard the first round of insistent knocks and urgent calling of your name. It was him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you got to your feet and let him in, praying you looked better than you felt. His face fell as the door opened and he spotted your saddened features, so you guessed you didn't. Luke stepped in, shutting the door behind him, and immediately brushing the tears from your face with his thumbs, his eyes sad.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, as he drew you into a hug.

"It was just some-some girls, don't worry, they always do it, I'm just-y'know, being dramatic," you let out a broken laugh into his shoulder and more tears fell, "I guess I should expect it."

"No you shouldn't. They shouldn't torment you regularly just because you dress different to them." He pulled away, his eyes furious now, the cocoa centres dangerously dark, "What the hell is wrong with them?! Tell me their names, y/n, their names."

"No, it's fine, you-you don't need to talk to them, it's-"

"Well, I'm going to either way, so you can tell me, or I'll just find it out."

"I-I-" you stuttered, your body shuddering as a wave of tears swept through you once again, "it was that group of Aphrodite girls, with like Stacey and-"

You buried yourself in his arms, and he squeezed you tight, fingers brushing gently through your hair. "You know you're so much better than them, right?" he murmured warmly, "you're smarter, you're prettier-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Yes, you are, and you should know it, because you are, y/n. You're worth a million of them." Luke's words were firm, and the way he looked at you then, resolute and as if he believed his phrase with every particle of his being made you soften. Made you almost believe him.

"I'm gonna come back with some soda, and we can chill out and listen to your tape, yeah? How's that sound?"

"Amazing," you said, with a watery smile.

"Great, well I'll go now, so I can be back soon," and he sent you a faint-inducing grin as he inched out of your arms that made you lose track of a few sentences.

"Luke," you protested, when you finally got your tongue under control, "no, you-you don't have to this, right? You realise you don't have to do this? It's ok, it's-"

"Yeah, of course," he responded calmly, that same grin on his face as he reached for the door, "I don't know where you think I'm going. I'm just off to get some soda."

And do some other things along the way.

He stormed over to the Aphrodite cabin, knocking rapidly before throwing the door open. Stacey was there, sat on the bed humming a pop song and fixing her hair in her hand mirror, frozen in place as she watched him barge in and shut the door. Her surprise smoothly transitioned into seduction, as was typical with a lot of Aphrodite girls.

"Someone wanted to see me," she cooed, sending him a flirty smile.

Oh yes he did indeed.

"So, I heard about some things with you and y/n,"

"Oh, yeah, that," Stacey waved the words away as if they were a pesky fly, resting on her elbows as she looked up at him with doe eyes, "she looked like a horror movie, Luke. Like, you know how much I care about the kids! They might get scared."

"Yeah, yeah sure, Stacey, I'm sure those were your intentions."

She frowned at that, her glossy lips and thin brows crinkled.

"Why are you even standing up for her anyway? It's not like she's nice, and she's so weird, like she's probably not even straight, like I've heard she has relationships with bats and graves and shit."

"And where did you hear that, Stacey?" He asked coldly, anger rising through him.

She quickly noted the negative emotions surfacing in his tone, and cocked her head. "I don't know, like just around the place. Look, I don't know why you care about this so much? I doubt she has a soul."

"Oh, she does, Stacey. And her soul is much more beautiful and amazing than yours will ever be," he sucked a breath in, trying to restrain his utter rage, "and I want you to never talk to my girlfriend like that again."

"Y-your-your girlfriend?" She spluttered, absolutely shell-shocked.

"Yeah, my girlfriend."

"But-what-?"

"She's the best girl at camp, so I don't know why you say all that stupid stuff about her. Anyway, I need to go now, Stacey, but I think you got the message, yeah?"

She nodded dumbly, her eyes still wide, and Luke smirked as he left the suffocatingly rose-smelling cabin and went into the open air.

With that done, he needed two ice-cold cans of soda.

[river-mort]

Hi I love your mohg/rhadan art very much it’s my favorite thing. I also love your Morgott art a LOT. I love your more serious style and it brings such joy to my heart to see your art of the twins and little things about their relationship dynamic, that’s one thing that kills me about the game is we never get to see mohg & Morgott interact.

If you have any silly/angsty headcanons for rhadan/mohg I’d love to hear them. Or ones for the twins too for that matter.

i wish i drew more serious art it's just too much silly ideas occupied my head. I hate being the clown all the time it's my curse - being funny.

And thank you to ask question about some stuff I hc or draw. Last time I received such question was....years ago I feel

I'm also glad to intoxicate people into radmohg its such a funny and sweet ship. It's so sweet that I can't even come with any angst for it. They both might have their own sad stories they deal with (sometimes together) but something rough between them? They two has their own worldview and plans but they never confront each other. If someone disagree they just..... Don't talk about it? So You're a blood cultists? Okay just leave my army alone ok? They make some agreements and keep living. In fact I think it's impossible to make Radahn feel strong emotions - hate, anger anything. He is a big man of accepting and compromise when it's about relationship (not only romantic). He might be emotional on the battlefield and it's the only place when he can be rough but when it's a calm life he is as calm as capibara. He is a simple positive man. He is such a Kronk coded character to me lol, even if you throw a table at you it will just break and he will be like you okay? You seem sad :( . On mohg side, even being quite a self centered man, he somehow respect Radahn's personal space and decisions. He doesn't force him to follow his lead or do as be say - unless it's something small like carrying him in the top of the tower. But with Radahn everything is new to mohg - before he would never care about anyone in any way. He doesn't care for others opinions, decisions and desires. With Radahn he is unbelievably tolerant and sweet. From other side it actually looks like pretending and Morgott was absolutely sure that Mohg is up to something. Even Mohg himself thought he was up to something - he just didn't know what exactly he would possibly need from this man. During first period mohg acted so fun while pretending he doesn't care for Radahn and just want to use him for SOMETHING while actually he was simply interested in him. That's all. He was like no I don't care that he doesn't answer my letter for second day already and u walk around this room nervously because I think about other matters and definitely not because of that one specific. I don't care for him. At all. And morgott is like okay but I didn't ask?

With mohg and morgott on the other hand there's pretty much angst. And I'm not even talking about their different worldview and religions - that's quite obvious. Saying about headcanons I like to think that mohg has soft spot for his brother - too soft I would say. Being ruthless and cunning, he could've already get the leyndell throne even without killing his brother (which he always say he CAN do but no. He can't), but instead he actively helps Morgott rule, in mimic veil au he even becomes his advisor but basically he's a nanny - he forces him to wake up, to go on meetings, to do his duties which morgott due his strong, I mean strong, depression doesn't want to do at all. He didn't ask mohg to help and sometimes he doesn't even like mohg being around but mohg still do it - which probably makes some of his followers question his decisions and his promises. But mohg can'thelp himself. When he knows morgott will have some meetings HE is nervous because he knows how hard it for his brother.

Talking about angst I also like the idea based on my personal experience - some people can't be your therapists. They shouldn't at all but if they will they can't help you on a professional level which is what happened between these two - mohg has NO idea how to help his brother who is drowning in self hate. He is here in the time of need but he can't offer anything special. And in morgott case some simple support words and presence is barely enough to survive through some of his states of mind. I think sometimes mohg is exhausted. Based on my experience when some person you talk to is ALWAYS depressed and self hating unstoppable you just.... Give up at some point. And I think sometimes mohg is quite close to this. Of course he won't but it feels like you hitting a wall with your head constantly. Pointless

But talking about positive hc I think instead of open conflict they just tend to make fun on each other. You know, all these cocky comments ir sarcasm with all this "at least I don't serve some his ass tree that doesn't even answer" And they start fighting. Just two stupid boys. I don't have siblings but I think lots of memes about siblings relationship would suit them

Also Morgott and Radahn will find a way to communicate. I think Radahn is actually respect morgott for his skills at fighting and for morgott Radahn is just.... An okay guy. He doesn't try to take the throne or destroy city. I think they would even become sports companions because I think that morgott likes doing sports. It's his only hobby

[suethesocks]

Egyptian Ben 10 AU!!

A long while ago i got the idea of making an au where ben is an Egyptian Orthodox Christian (the idea entirely spawned off a joke my friend made about a hypothetical ben like that having to explain his fasting to rook)

At first the idea was gonna be that his parents are Egyptian immigrants and he was born and raised in Bellwood, but last second before finishing his character bio i decided to flip everything over and make this AU *in* Egypt

The timeline i have in mind for these bios are all at around right after the highbreed arc, but also before season 3 straight up starts. I feel like thats a good jumping-on point

In terms of aliens mostly i just get to explore what the aliens would look like as teenagers since uaf and ov didnt really do much with that (they didnt even bother giving wildmutt a tail) and have fun trying to make his flannel into outfits for the aliens. Hoever if i get any cool ideas for entirely revamping aliens id definitely do it

I tried to make fourarms darker skinned not sure if its showing. Id have done the same with stinkfly but the uniforms colorscheme wouldve crashed. I wanted to try giving wildmutt black fur because this ben has darker hair but nothing really quite worked hsjhds wildmutts obnoxious orange is just too iconic

Prep school is mostly an american thing, here the closest equivalent for the early 2000s would be an international school. Also i changed lawyer to doctor as thats the sort of "go-to" job that makes a lot of money, lawyers in egypt arent usually as fortunate

Here she doesnt wear her uniform this is just how she dresses. I tried to fit the cat motif like OS but i couldnt really think of something that fit. If i were drawing UAF or OV gwen in my own take id have given her cat imagery but i think for Jwanas personality it actually makes more sense for her to be boring and lose the cat

Jwanas also a lot more angsty about her magic (and it is magic) since her parents and basically entire surrounding community both Muslim and Christian are very against magic and consider it sin. Shes also a lot more angsty in general because like the bio says shes under alot of stress and is very jealous of ben, which is conflicting because ben is also her best friend and she doesnt wanna feel this sort of animosity to him. She also doesnt realize how much he looks up to her as someone who is a lot more intelligent and disciplined than he'll ever be (for example the concept of jwana having the spark isnt here, ben just can never learn magic because he doesnt have what it takes)

Kevin much like ben is more or less the same as he is in the show. With jwana i went with my own take but Ben and Kevin are more of, culminations of what i think are their best parts in the series and then just fleshing that out more

I felt like the outfit he has in earth-prime works best with a few touchups. Prime kevin has consistently had that rugged guy-who-lives-in-a-garage look so despite being the most basic outfit it works the best with a few touchups

I did change his anatomy, i wanted to make him look like a mutant freak. I gave him this sort of frankenstine's monster posture (a small reference to him being an amalgamation in os). He also has these stretch marks all over his body since his material absorption doesnt just create a coat around him but also alters his skin itself (so these markings arent there for os-era kevin) He also has a lot of weird bumps over his body

This kevin is 100% mutant no alien shenanigans. If i do aggregor i'll uhhh think of something else for him to be. His transition to the lightside is a lot longer and for the majority of the highbreed arc hes not even there hes more of an occasional ally if he feels like helping

Was his dad a plumber or not im not sure tbh, im leaning towards not though

Next post is gonna be a bunch of villains for funsies

[liveontelevision]

Hello friends,

Sorry about the lack of content recently, I've been running kinda low on energy :,) but I have some little treats, never fear.

Here's a short Vox thing I wrote awhile ago, it's angsty it's kissy, it ends with a cliffhanger. Classic fic by me.

I meant to turn it into a full thing, and I just might later? We'll see

CW: Smoking and smooching

Human | Vox x Reader

You cringe, scrunching up your nose when the familiar scent hits you. You approach the TV-headed demon, who was lounging on the large balcony of the Vees' Penthouse. Or was it lamenting?

"Yuck. You still smoke here?"

"It's Hell, doll. It's not like it'll kill me. Can't even feel the high anymore, actually."

"I guess not.. Then why do you even smoke? If it doesn't affect you?"

"Eh. I don't know. Try not to think too hard into that shit." A comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

"Can I bum one?" With a mocking scoff, he reaches into his pocket to pull out the pack. In a thoughtless decision, you place the cigarette between your teeth, pulling his face in your direction and inching impossibly close to him. He seemed startled by your sudden attack.

You hover just in front of his lips, lighting the end of your cigarette with the cherry of his own.

That was definitely an interesting move for someone with absolutely no history of smoking. As you inhale, you choke up and immediately cough out the rest. Vox is only watching you, a smile tugging at his lips while you cough up a lung. Your eyes water and you let out a whimper before propping your arms against the railing.

"Smooth." He comments.

"W-Watch it." You snap back.

You do manage to draw out a smoother hit, looking down at the city that, ironically, seemed so lively.

All that time went to waste. All those years you'd spent chasing over this CEO, being a part of the paparazzi, stalking the media for any buzz, passing his building when you have the time.. had the time. The fact that he's seemingly replicated his dream headquarters in the center of the underworld seemed like a Hell in itself. Constantly mocking you for never getting your big scoop. For wasting your life on him.

You couldn't help but approach it at first. You reluctantly enter the stores and offices that surround the first floor, inspecting all his products. You didn't recognize him at first. I mean, he has a TV screen for a head. His voice is what gave it away. His charismatic facade and sauve persona he uses on any television program. That's what you recognized. Apparently those are skills that stick with you after death.

He found you eventually. You'd been residing on the barren side of Hell. It was cozy. Not everyone had family members with them, you were just the lucky few. Your sweet grandma was here. Sinners who are visibly older seemed to be avoid by most clear-minded demons. Why bug them? And what kind of decisions did they make to end up here and survive for so long? They probably don't even remember why they're here. But some seemed to remember their lives.

Your grandma recognize you almost immediately. She was quick to take you into a part of hell that seemed to bypass the cities and dangers. It, of course, had its flaws. The Hellborn rodents were bothersome, but it somehow managed to be peaceful on its own.

It didn't last long, though. Extermination Day finally caught up to your little home. You have no idea how you survived, it was a miracle. but you were the only one. You started appreciating your aftlife in another fit of irony. You're nearly immortal, maybe it's time to give the city a try.

"Thanks for taking me in, too. You didn't have to do that."

"I can't leave my favorite stalker on the streets." He nudges you, having to lean down a bit to do so. He was towering. You let out the softest chuckle, leaning into his touch, despite it's teasing motivations. You sigh, taking another drag.

"Wait these aren't Valentino's smokes, are they?" You hold it over the edge, ready to flick it from your fingers, if that's the case.

"Definitely not. I wouldn't give you those if you asked." You hum at his words, releasing a puff of smoke. "But, uh.. let me know if he offers you any, alright?" You let out a little laugh and nod.

Your comfortable silence was broken, with the end of your cigarette. You let it crumble to the ground, stomping it with your nice business shoes. Vox rolls his eyes, shooing you away.

"Don't ruin those, they were expensive." He mutters.

"Well I would've been fine if you didnt essentially set my wardrobe on fire." You scoff.

"Your wardrobe? Was a bunch of country bumpkin dresses with poofy sleeves, doll. Even Vel was ready to get rid of that mess." The silence overcomes again. The breeze coming from the sheer height of the building seemed refreshing. You looked up to Heaven. How cruel of them to put it in sight.

"I really thought that was it. That life was short and then you die. That there was no point in trying to get rich and famous as long you were doing something you liked."

"So you liked stalking me?"

"Fuck off, Vox, you know what I mean." You couldn't help but smile. "How could I have wasted all that time on you? I could've been building my skills. Maybe I wouldn't be mooching off of some big shot like you if I did." You looked away, not willing to make any eye contact while mentioning him.

"Hey, you know I don't mind.. you can't prepare for death." He reaches out, he's not sure why, maybe to offer you some comfort. Maybe he just wanted to see your face, again. You darted away from him unknowingly, making his hand recoil.

"But, I mind! I don't want to rely on you. I should be able to do this by myself, I came here the same way you did, I had the same chance to get to where you are now." You huffed, embarrassment from your confession turning your face red. "But I just.. I didn't. I keep wasting my time..."

A cool touch hit your cheek, and before you know it your head had been turned to face Vox. He kept his claws holding your chin upwards, despite your attempts to pull out of his grasp.

"Stop it. There's nothing but time here. Listen, I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but- for the first time in years.. I feel... human, again." You blink slowly at him, not exactly minding his touch at this point. "And that's because of you." You hated getting flustered, but his words alone caused you to tense up. He felt your jaw clenching in his hand, bringing him back to reality. With a quick release, he brings his fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

"So.. yeah. Don't get it in your head that this is some sort of.. sugar daddy thing. You're free to do whatever you want. You can do whatever you want. And- you uh.. you're always welcome back." You stare at him for longer than you'd like to admit. Looking for some kind of excuse for your gaze, you hold your hand out for another cigarette. He gets the memo after awhile.

You place it between your lips and before you get the chance to think, his hands are back on your chin, bringing your face close. He mirrors your actions from before. It startled you, the cigarette falling from your lips and rolling off the balcony floor. Both your eyes follow it for a moment, before looking at eachother and sharing a little laugh.

His own cigarette falls from his lips. And with his hand still on chin you're pulled into an expected kiss. The sight of his dazed eyes when he finally pulls away only leaves you wanting more. But.. you can't. You pull away with a sullen look and step away from balcony. Without a word, you leave him alone. He's lost yet another independent spark. His heart can ache later. For now, he's cursing himself for letting anyone see that side of him, again.

♡♡♡

Womp womp

Love the pics where they knew eachother in life 👌

Taglist:

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[thisismeracing]

hey you! can i please request the #1 prompt for micky? happy ending and the rest is up to you. 🫶🏼

hi there! you absolutely can and here you go 🫶🏾 hope you like it

From the Quick Prompt List: 1. “Do you really think friends act like this?”

word count: 0.8k

pairing: reader (she/her pronouns) x mick schumacher

warnings: not proofread, mention of alcohol, tooth-rotting fluff (I decided to go with fluff bc I noticed most of my prompts were kinda angsty at their core lol)

It was a three years friendship, it was normal to act like that around each other. Or that's what Mick tried to tell himself when Yn was the first person he searched for as soon as he got to the group gathering their friends were having.

She was curled in a loveseat with a small blanket dropped over her lap. There was a wine glass in her hands and a lazy smile on her lips which were red-stained. Although the loveseat was far from the door and he could very well compliment everyone before her, he made a straight line to her and dropped a kiss to the corner of her lips, he could almost taste the wine from that spot. And after greeting everyone Mick sat with her on the seat, her body almost on his lap, his hands on her thighs. The blonde did not even bother to get himself a glass of wine or a bottle of beer. They shared her glass, just as they shared the blanket and longing stares while everyone was too busy talking about a viral TikTok.

It's late at night when everyone decides to go home, and of course, Mick would not let Yn get into an Uber tipsy, and at that hour, it was only fair they shared, and it turns out it was fair he stayed with her. That's what they decided when the car came to a stop in front of her apartment. Mick was used to staying at her house, so much that he had a spare of everything in her room and tons of clothes he would either forget or she would take to wear herself.

"Are you hungry? You want me to order pizza or cook you something?" the German asked once they got inside.

"Thank you, Micky, but I just want to wash my face, brush my teeth and go to sleep."

Not bothering to switch on the lights, Yn walked to her bedroom, and then to her bathroom where she finally bumped her fingers on the light switch.

They bumped shoulders while brushing their teeth, they laugh at each other antics while washing their faces, and Mick helped Yn with the strings of her dress. When they were ready for bed, Yn wearing one of Mick's shirts and him wearing a pair of sweats, she settled with half of her body on top of his. His arm looped around her body automatically while the other one made its way under her shirt to draw random patterns on the naked skin of her back, something Mick knew would make her sleep faster.

Yn didn't know if it was the wine glasses she had or how sleepy he felt, but her thoughts were expressed loud enough for Mick to hear and still his movements for a second, “Do you really think friends act like this?” It was as if she was wondering to herself, finally asking the question both have been curious about since the day they met. Is friendship supposed to feel like this? Neck kisses, corner lips kisses, long hugs, the constant need to talk, sharing beds, constantly worrying about the other, always wanting to be around, having trouble imagining a future without the other.

"Well, I don't share beds with my friends. Nor do I get goosebumps when I touch them. Much less, I don't love my friends like I love you," he confesses. Yn can hear his frantic heartbeat under her, the way his breath stops for a second like he's waiting for her to say something, anything.

"I feel safe around you," she whispers. "You're the first person I think about when I wake up and the last before I go to bed. I want to share everything with you, I want to share my life with you," she rants while lazily running her nails on the exposed skin of his stomach. "But I'm afraid things will change. What if something goes wrong and then I don't have you in my life anymore?" Mick can feel the distress in her tone, the way her nails dig a bit into him, and her heartbeat accelerates.

His fingers went back to the drawings on her skin and he brought her even closer, lips finding the side of her face and leaving a kiss there, "I would never leave you, Yn."

It's a promise and Yn relaxes when she senses how his tone is secure. She supports her weight on her arms just to lift her face to his. They stare at each other for a beat, Mick smiles and Yn drops her face closer leaving a small peck on his lips. It's like a promise of what's about to come. It's something both of them always wanted to do.

"Now, we're going to sleep, and we will figure it out in the morning ok? We're too sleepy and tipsy to discuss this now," he was always so thoughtful and Yn loved it about him. She loved him, and she was still coming to terms with it, with saying it out loud, with turning their friendship into something more, but for now, confessing their feelings and agreeing on working on it was enough. It was one more step they took together toward love.

Wrote this listening to "Friends" by Ed Sheeran (Idk why I keep adding those random details, please don't give up on me lol). Hope you guys like it, don't forget to share with your besties and lmk your thoughts on this piece. hugs and kisses from millieeeee