#and I feel bad about not having the time to work on bigger wips

[museumgiftshoperaser]

Never Better

Jonathan/Eddie | 1.3K | Rated T for mentions of weed Or: Eddie sells weed but he's not very good at it yet <3 (set right after season 1)

Jonathan just wants to eat his lunch in peace.

The cold wind nips at his cheeks because he was too stubborn to get his scarf from his locker. His nose goes numb almost instantly. At least he’s the only one stupid enough to eat his lunch outside in this weather. At least he’s going to be alone.

He tucks his hands deep into his pockets and braces the snow. It’s been non stop since Christmas and the first layers of it have frozen to the concrete. He takes small, careful steps as he crosses the courtyard toward the football field.

He keeps his chin tucked into the collar of his coat so he doesn’t notice the boy until he’s reached the foot of the bleachers.

He’s sitting on the middle seat of the top row, leaned back like he’s enjoying the sun. The sky has been paper white for weeks now, but Eddie Munson might’ve missed the memo.

Jonathan doesn’t really know Eddie, but he knows of Eddie. Everyone does. Another one of Hawkins’ finest, with his last name stitched permanently to his first. That’s Al Munson’s kid. He’s trouble.

It might as well be Byers. It has a similar ring to it. Laced with rumors and preceded by reputation. Their father’s used to hang out. Drinking buddies down at the only local pub that hadn’t kicked them out yet. But that was before.

Ever since November, Jonathan's got a new set of rumors stuck to him. They add his first name, too. It’s not just Byers anymore. To this town he has always been his father’s oldest, but now he’s also his mother’s son.

Eddie turns his head to the side and looks him straight in the eye.

It would be rude to turn around now. Personal.

Jonathan drops his backpack from his shoulder and catches the strap right before the bag hits the ground.

“Uh… Hi.”

He takes two steps up the broad staircase, leaving a few rows of chairs between him and Eddie. He doesn’t seem like the type to keep his head down, but he also wouldn’t have any reason to strike up a conversation. Eddie’s a senior. They’ve haven’t so much as exchanged pleasantries since the start of high school. But Eddie tilts his head back and reaches for a metal box by his feet without breaking eye contact.

“What do you need?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“How much?” He raises an eyebrow and flips open the lid. “I can do fifteen for the half ounce, cut you a deal?”

His tone is so casual, almost like customer service. The practiced ease of a transaction. Oh.

Jonathan swallows hard. He tries to take a step back and bumps his boot against one of the seats on the row below him. The plastic shakes with a hollow thump.

“And… You’re not here to buy weed, are you?” Eddie winces, more awkward than scared, like he just committed a social faux pas and not a crime. “Fuck.”

“You sell weed?” Jonathan can’t help but ask. “At school?”

He holds onto his bag with both hands because he doesn’t know what to do with his arms.

“Where else am I supposed to do it?” Eddie asks sincerely. “Can’t exactly set up shop on Main Street, can I?”

Jonathan can’t really argue with that. Though maybe he shouldn’t be selling weed at all. If the cops are gonna suspect anyone, he’s top of list. Virtue of his leather jacket and that sticky last name.

“You’re Jonathan, right? Byers?

It’s exactly the thing he came out here to avoid. The pity. The gossip. Being poked and prodded until everyone moves on to the next big thing. It’s been almost two months now and the charity has run dry. With the last bits of empathy under thick layers of snow, everyone who wants to ask him about it now is just there for all the gory details.

“I’ll just leave you to it,” Jonathan says.

He turns around and hurries down the steps. Maybe the English teacher left her classroom unlocked. She does that sometimes. He could eat in there. If all else fails there’s always the bathroom.

“Are you sure you don’t want any weed?” Eddie yells after him, far too loud for such a public setting, but Jonathan just keeps walking. “If anyone here could use some it’s probably you.”

He whips around.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He spits. Meaner than he wants to be, but he’s just so done with being Jonathan Byers.

Eddie raises both hands in the air, palms facing out like he’s playing at innocence.

“Just that it seems you’ve had a rough couple weeks,” he says quickly. “That’s all.”

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t know why he’s so defensive all of a sudden. “It was my brother, you know… Who went missing. Not me.”

A beat of silence stretches between them.

“Still… Must’ve been fucking hard.”

Jonathan shakes his head. That’s not what he’s supposed to say. It’s not what anyone else said. Definitely not lately.

“Will’s fine,” he grits through his teeth. “He’s home now. He’s all good."

And he is. His mom is still in celebration mode. Will came back. He’s alive. It’s ice cream for dinner if he wants and a never ending supply of hugs. A happy ending. They don’t have to talk about any of it. Not anymore.

Jonathan looks back at Eddie only to find him already staring.

“And you?” he asks carefully. Eddie’s got those big eyes and that unwavering stare and it makes Jonathan’s skin itch. It bubbles in his stomach like anger, but it stings behind his eyes like something much more embarrassing.

“Never better.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Well then, Jonathan. Guess you won’t be needing my services.”

He closes the lid on his metal lunch box and taps a quick rhythm once it’s shut. Jonathan can’t believe he’s just keeping weed in there. On school property, practically out in the open. He’s never smoked before, cigarettes sure, but he’s never even had a beer.

“What’s your name again?” He’s not sure why he’s asking. Eddie still knew his name. It wouldn’t be weird to skip the introductions all together, but it’s the only thing he can think to say.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, doesn’t buy it one bit.

“You don’t remember me?” He frowns, but there’s something teasing to his voice. “Come on, man.”

Jonathan digs his teeth into the inside of his cheek. Two boys under the table, on the sticky floor of a bar. Jonathan played dinosaurs and Eddie played cars despite being too old for either. Their fathers talked, sloshing beer over the side of the table, dripping down the seats. The bar got darker and their voices got louder. Eddie ran his toy truck over his father’s steel toed boots and got a kick to the ribs in return.

They didn’t talk much. Joyce picked him up before Eddie’s mom did and he wasn’t allowed back after that.

“Eddie.” He sounds it out with a flourish and half a bow. “Pleased to formally meet you.”

“I can’t believe you’re selling weed at school.” Jonathan says it without thinking about it.

“I’m not…” Eddie frowns before quickly resetting his face to a more neutral expression. “I’m not very good at it yet. Only started selling a couple months ago.”

It’s a strangely charming admission. Human.

“Would it help?” Jonathan swallows before he can keep talking. “The weed. Would it help?”

“I mean… Probably not,” Eddie admits like the terrible salesman he is. “But it won’t hurt either. It gets your mind off of shit. If you happen to need that.”

He shrugs casually, bunching his leather jackets around his shoulders like he couldn’t care less. It’s not quite the peer pressure teachers always warned him about.

He glances at Eddie’s hands, still wrapped around his lunch box. Pictures those fingers wrapped around a joint, pictures himself inhaling a thick cloud of smoke and then he quickly shakes his head.

“Never mind.” He takes a step back.

“No pressure, man.” Eddie grins with a comfortable familiarity and suddenly Jonathan feels like he shouldn’t be here at all. Shouldn’t be talking to him. Shouldn’t be out here by himself. “But if you change you’re mind you know where to find me.”

“I’ll see you around.” He slings his backpack over his shoulders and turns around before Eddie can say anything else.

[imaginedisish]

The Only Exception (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! Ahhh here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This has been sitting in my WIPs since late November/early December. This is what I was working on before I got sick. I’m so happy it’s done. I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, although I may have written something similar to this already. It’s very much inspired by “The Only Exception,” by Paramore. I’m hoping I didn’t use this song as a title yet....Oh well. ENJOY!

Summary: Din has been wildly overprotective of you lately, but maybe it’s because there’s something lying deep below the surface that’s been threatening to bubble over...

Warnings: SMUT!!!!! 18+ Please!!! Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cursing, canon typical violence, Jedi!reader, Razor Crest still exists (and it’s def bigger in my head than it is in the show), praise kink, friends to lovers, angsty but fluffy and smutty dw, I only proofread like 2 times so it may be bad (it’s 3:16am...so...we die like men!), AFAB reader, uhhh I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,078

“I swear to the Maker, if you don’t get back on the Crest now, I’m gonna-,”

Din is cut off by the sound of your lightsaber clashing through the plastoid armor of the stormtrooper to your left. You swing your saber around, showing off more than you need to. You throw it down the alleyway, feeling through the force as it cuts through another stormtrooper before finding its way back to your hand.

“You’re gonna what?” You say, tilting your head to the side. You point your saber to the stormtroopers scattered around the alleyway. “I just saved you.” You close your saber and cross your arms cockily.

Din shakes his head, his gaze refusing to meet yours. “And where’s the kid? You just left him on the Crest?” You roll your eyes, turning your back towards him as you remove your cloak from your shoulders. There, in perfect condition, is Grogu, secure in a little carrier on your back.

“You really think I’d be that dumb?” Your words have a callous edge to them. Din had been far moodier than usual over the past few days, and with that came a strange overprotectiveness that you hadn’t seen before. It was starting to feel as if he thought you were going to mess up, that you couldn’t take care of yourself. “You think I’d put the kid’s life at stake?”

“That’s not what I meant.” The anger in his voice has all but melted away. You’re shocked by how defeated he sounds now.

You inhale deeply, taking a moment to calm yourself down. “So what did you mean, Din?”

“We don’t have time for this now.” He’s curt and almost a bit cold, his modulated voice echoing off the walls of the alleyway. “We need to get back to the ship.”

You hate the way he’s brushing you off, ignoring you, pushing you to the side. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need to put up with his shit. Not anymore. “What is going on with you?” The words come out louder, more aggressive than you meant them to.

Din takes a single stride towards you, his broad figure practically shoving you against the wall in the process. “We are not doing this here.” The feeling of him being so close to you clouds your mind. You can’t form a coherent thought, never mind a sentence. You want to say something, to stand up for yourself, but you can’t. “Now cut the shit so we can get back to the ship.” There’s that anger again, that finality in his voice.

In the distance you can hear stormtroopers chatting, whispering your name, mumbling on about Grogu, warning each other about the Mandalorian. Din was right. There was no time to hash this out here. You nod, finally caving in. Din takes a step away from you, immediately grasping your wrist in his hand before making a break for the Crest, just on the other end of the alleyway.

Somehow you make it without being seen. Din lets go of your hand, motioning for you to get on the ship. You make a b-line for the back and carefully remove Grogu from his carrier, placing him in his crib. You stand frozen in place in front of it, watching his eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

You don’t want to move. You rather watch the child you had come to care so deeply for sleep peacefully than deal with a massively enraged Din. The oncoming fight would most definitely wake Grogu, so maybe it was best for you to hide in the little corner that you had come to call Grogu’s bedroom, completely unnoticed. But obviously, that’s not an option. You begrudgingly step towards the end of the hull and decide to keep your hands busy by organizing the tiny stock of food that lined a makeshift shelf along the far wall.

You can hear Din’s heavy steps on the other side of the ship, presumably heading up towards the cockpit. After a few seconds and many annoyed grunts from Din, the ship is lifted into the air and away from danger.

You try your best to bring yourself to get angry at him, to yell some explicative across the hull of the ship and spit a curse in his helmet-covered face. You wanted the consequences, for him to storm over and scream back. But you couldn’t – because things weren’t normally like this. Din had always been kind, caring, protective even.

He'd leave the cockpit to grab a blanket from his cot when you fell asleep in the co-pilot’s chair. He’d come back and gently, yet silently, tuck you in with it. It was the only blanket he had. Sometimes you’d wake up in his bed, having been carried into it at some point during the night. He’d be awake, taking care of the child, flying the Crest, making sure nothing and no green baby woke you up.

You’d be lying if you said his doting behavior didn’t draw you to him, that it didn’t make you crave him. Every soft touch on your shoulder, every time you pretended to be asleep just to feel his arms wrap around you as he brought you to his cot. You’d let your stares linger a little too long from time to time, pushing past your reflection in his armor, searching for some sort of sign that maybe he feels the same.

You wanted him to come up behind you, rest his hands on your hips, squeezing softly at the exposed inch of skin where your top and your pants just can’t seem to meet, and whisper in your ear in that husky, modulated voice that he’s sorry, that he’ll make up to you by-

“Never, ever, do anything like that again.” You practically jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice. You quickly turn around, not realizing how close Din had gotten to you. His chest is practically flush against yours, the proximity causing you to stumble back against the shelf, threatening to bring it down with you.

Din immediately snakes an arm around your waist, keeping you from falling against the cold metal floors below. Your arms instinctively reach up around his neck to stabilize yourself. You’re glued to him now, and you don’t particularly want to let go. You swallow harshly, intimidated by the way the beskar clad man seems to tower over you, by the way you can smell him, by the way his forehead practically touches yours.

You take a deep breath, furrowing your brows and doing your best to collect your thoughts despite the fog that the moment seemed to create in your brain. “Do what? Save your ass?” You spit, instantly regretting the harshness of your words, even if he deserves them.

“You weren’t supposed to leave the ship.” He’s stern, his voice somehow punishing. “You were supposed to stay here with the kid.”

You shake your head, feeling far too much like a child caught playing in the front seat of their parent’s speeder. “You needed my help! You would’ve died out there without me! And I can handle myself,” You yell, trying to ignore how you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. “If this is about risking the kid’s life, I promise you I wasn’t. I would never put him-,”

He cuts you off, “I know you wouldn’t, that’s not what this is about.”

What? You think to yourself, confused beyond belief. If this wasn’t about the child, then what could this possibly be about? “So then what’s the problem?” You ask, more aware of the way that Din is holding you against him now than you were before.

You can hear Din inhale deeply through the modulator. “You.” A shudder rolls down your spine. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” There’s still an edge in his voice, but he’s calmer now, almost pained, as if considering your death in some dark corner of his mind.

“Sorry that my death would be such an inconvenience for you,” You say sardonically. “It’ll be hard trying to replace me with some other force-wielding wizard that’ll be willing to babysit for you, since clearly that’s all I am.” You wanted the words to sting him, to hurt him, and maybe they did, but it felt like a punch in the gut to simply think them. You wanted to grab the words from where they still hung in the air and shove them back into your mouth, to swallow them so that they could burn in the acid of your stomach.

Din tilts his head down, crushed, defeated. Your heart winces. Fuck. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His stare finds yours again, and you quickly look down at his shoulder, too embarrassed to have him look you in your eyes.

You shake your head. “But Din, that’s the problem,” You say, somehow finding the courage to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you mean. How am I supposed to know what you mean if you won’t kriffing tell-,”

“Fucking hell, I don’t want to lose you!”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

Din looks around the hull, as if the words he was searching for were hiding, wrapped somewhere around its silver walls. “I can’t lose you. And before you ask, no, it’s not because you train the kid or whatever the hell you think it is.” You can feel the pain in his voice, guilt quickly filling your gut. “It’s just…” He trails off, silence hanging heavy in the air.

“Well…what is it?” You mumble, struggling to force down the lump in your throat. You wish you could see his face, to get a sense of his expression, an inkling as to what he was really feeling.

“You,” He says, as if those three letters held some secret, omniscient being or meaning. To him, they did. It was you. You were the thing that kept him up at night, the thing that made him want to show every facet of his being for the first time in his life.  “You’re reckless and careless and sometimes you drive me absolutely insane.”

You scoff. “Wow, what a glowing review of my services!”

Din shakes his head. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re so much more than that, because even though you drive me crazy,” He pauses; the modulator picks up his breath as it catches in his throat, “I know I’d never be able to spend an entire lifetime without you in it.”

You’re speechless. An entire lifetime? “Din I-,”

“Close your eyes.”

“What? You just said all that and you want me to close my-,”

“Just close your eyes. You trust me, don’t you?”

Of course I trust you, smart-ass, You think to yourself. So, you do what he says, shutting your eyes firmly. Then there’s a hiss, and then something clunks loudly against the floor. And then…

It’s warm, and soft, and smooth, and all those other perfect words someone would use to describe the perfect kiss. He has a mustache under all that metal, and now you know, because it tickles ever so gently just above your upper lip. His hands squeeze your hips just a bit tighter, pulling you further into his chest.

His lips press deeper into yours, hungrier. You keep your eyes closed tightly, your hands sliding up and into his hair, combing gently. He moans into your mouth at the touch as he guides you away from the shelf and towards his cot.

“D-Din,” You stutter in between gasps.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You can feel the heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach, but there’s something stopping you, something telling you that there’s no possible way this could ever be real, that it wasn’t a set-up, that it wasn’t a dream. “Do you really want this?”

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you silently wish to yourself that you could see it. “Do you?”

You nod, repeating his words, “More than anything.”

His lips find yours again, his knee nudging in between your thighs as he pushes you down onto his cot. He’s on top of you now, his hands on either side of your body. “Wanted you for so long…” He whispers in your ear. “Wanted you this whole time.” Fuck, he was going to kill you.

Din presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck, leading up to your jaw. His hands stretch under the hemline of your shirt, his fingertips gliding across your stomach and towards the edge of your bra. You shudder as he reaches underneath, slowly inching towards your chest.

Something was changing within him, and that something was you. You made him want to throw his Creed away, to ignore all he had been taught his entire life. How could you ever possibly be something he shouldn’t have? He needed you.

More than anything. And you needed him.

“Please,” You beg. “I need you Din, please.”

And just like that, something within him finally switched.

“Open your eyes, cyare,” He’s so quiet you almost miss it. His fingers dip underneath your bra, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly before doing the same to the other. “’Want you to look at me when I make you come.”

Panic rises to your chest. “W-what, are you sure? What about the Creed, what about-,”

“It doesn’t matter, not if it means I can’t have you.”

You wait a moment, giving him time to change his mind, but he doesn’t. You let your eyes flutter open, his curly hair and brown eyes flooding your vision. And Maker, there’s that smile, the smile you’d only heard through laughs and sarcastic, snide quips. You swear your heart skips a beat, maybe even two. He was perfect. Of course he was fucking perfect.

“You’re beautiful,” You whisper, your hands finding their way to his cheeks, his neck, your fingertips carefully running over his lips. His forehead rests down on yours, his eyes closing softly, reveling in the intimacy.

Din lifts himself off you and makes his way down your body, settling in between your legs. His fingers hook the waistline of your pants, tugging them down and throwing them somewhere in the hull. He feels your core through your soaked panties.

“So fucking wet for me, pretty girl,” He coos, practically ripping your panties as he pulls them down your legs. “Need to taste you.”

“F-fuck, Din,” You breathe sharply as his tongue laps at your clit, your hips lifting off the mattress. Din presses an arm across your hips, keeping you down against the cot, his free hand spreading your slick, teasing your entrance.

“’Tastes so good,” He rasps, his voice vibrating deliciously against your core. “Doing so good for me sweet girl.”

His mouth sucks harshly at your clit, taking the small bundle of nerves into his mouth, lapping at you like he was starving. You wanted more, needed more.

“N-need you, Din,” You whine, your hips fighting against the arm that held you down. He pushes you down further into the mattress, his mouth pressing even deeper onto your core.

“Not done with you yet,” He grunts, pushing two fingers into your entrance, pumping in and out, fast and hard. You could feel yourself growing closer with each thrust.

You moan his name like it’s a prayer, and in this moment it is. “Din, please, I, just…” But you can’t finish your sentence. It’s all too much, his fingers, his tongue, his voice, him. He was everywhere and everything all at once. And yet you needed more.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” He says patiently, nonchalantly.

“I want…” Your words fail again. “I…need you to f-fuck me, please.”

But he doesn’t stop, he keeps going. “I said I wasn’t done with you yet.” You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, teetering just on the edge.

“I’m so close,” You pant in between ragged breaths.

And then, abruptly, he pulls away, leaving you cold and empty. Before you can even think to sit up or reach out for him, he was back, his hips resting against yours, his pants and armor now somewhere scattered to the side. You could feel his cock throbbing against your inner thighs. He lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you.

“Din,” You whimper. “Plea-,”

He buries himself inside you, cutting you off, stretching you out. “So fucking tight,” He praises, pulling all the way out before thrusting back into you, filling you up again. “So soft, so perfect.” His fingers find your clit, circling the nerves roughly.

His forehead rests on your own as his left-hand searches for your right one. His fingers intertwine with yours just above your head, keeping you from drowning, cementing you there with him. It all feels so good, each pump, each circle at your clit. You can feel your walls clenching around him.

“Taking me so well,” He soothes, rocking into you. “Such a good girl.” It was all too much, his words, his cock.

“I-I’m gonna-,” You choke, white heat flooding your vision. You know Din isn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Come for me, sweet girl, that’s it,” Din moans, sending you over the edge. You feel yourself shattering underneath him, falling apart into a million pieces, only to be put back together again. His name slips off your tongue as he comes inside you.

His hips roll slowly against yours, gently rocking into you a few more times before pulling out.  

He shifts a bit so that you can comfortably lay on his chest. After all that, there’s only one thing you can think about.

“You wouldn’t be able to live without me?”

You look up at Din. His smirk stretches into a smile. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t, no.” He says it so matter-of-factly, so simply, as if it was common knowledge. “I need you. I always have.”

“I need you too.” He was the only person you had ever needed, the only exception. You didn’t need to tell him. He knew. Always has, always will.

You are the only exception

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

[contentloadingandstuff]

Gym Headcanons - Lisa & Ningguang x Male!Reader

A/N: I hope you'll like this one! All the others WIPs are staring daggers at me though... CW: Nothing notable.

Going to a gym? Lisa will pass, thank you. 

All the sweat and all the effort could, if she had to exert herself at all, go towards other things than gaining muscles. What would she use them for anyway? Her strength doesn't come from raw, brutish power, but rather from her brilliance and knowledge. 

For Lisa, getting some gains would be a bad thing as far as her appearance is concerned. She feels great as she is - of healthy weight with some delectable fluff on her belly, thighs and butt. A girl's got to have some meat on her bones, doesn't she? It's perfect for touching and resting your weary head on those plushy thighs. She won't ruin that especially since you're far from complaining about her assets. 

Even if she won't train, Lisa will care for her diet, and will keep an eye on yours too if you ask her to. She'll buy more of her natural yogurts, fruits, granola and other healthy foodstuffs. You'll be in good hands - Lisa will buy you shakes and foods with lots of protein to help build that dazzling body of yours. 

If at any point you find yourself tempted to cheat, she’ll gently remind you of your goal and help you resist. 

She's a vegetarian herself, but will not, to any extent of the word, force her views upon you. She just dislikes the taste of meat, especially when it's fried. The heartburn she feels after is straight up awful. Still, she won't object to making you hearty meals with all the love she has. After all, she has all the time in the world. 

Although she wouldn't ever come to the gym herself, it's different with you there. Lisa will gladly tag along to keep you company whenever she can. She won't hesitate to do her research, helping you in maintaining the proper position and form as you train. Need a break? She'll pass you the water and take away the weights (according to her ability). Feeling tired or bored? Lisa will be there, keeping a conversation or reading out loud to you - this way you train both your mind and your body. She'll get you whatever help she can offer. 

Is she accompanying you to gawk at your bare chest, your tensing, sweaty muscles, hear your masculine groans of exertion as you lift inhuman weights and give it your all? See you doing what men do, pushing yourself to the limit to become bigger, better, faster and stronger? Perhaps. Is that an invalid reason? Not at all. 

After a certain amount of these trips, the mage will start eyeing the exercise mats with increasing curiosity. Of course she wouldn't do any actually tiring exercises, but it wouldn't hurt to stretch a little, would it? Being flexible has a few uses Lisa can't think of, most of which involve you~

The first few times would render her limbs and joints crying in pain as years of “rust” come off. It would surely leave her grumpy the next day, but it's alright - you'll do your duty and massage her pains away, won’t you? 

When going at them, Lisa likes to do stretches that let her poor back get some lovely relief. Every time she begins the cobra stretches of the day, she can't help but sigh in satisfaction. The first one's the best, no doubt about that. On the other hand, those exercises that require her to lean down are the cause of her pains rather than the relief. Toe touches aren't easy, and things like forward folds are the stuff of nightmares, the mere thought of which is enough to make her spine ache.

Ningguang isn't one to work out either. She’s on a strict diet, planned out for her by the best dietitian and cooked by the best chef Mora can buy. Each of her meals has its calories counted to the letter, and - should the situation demand it - Ningguang is capable of counting them herself. Even when there's no label, she's able to judge it with impressive accuracy. 

It's thanks to this attentive lifestyle that she can flaunt her wasp waist. Even if a person's worth is more in merit than appearance, impeccable beauty can go a long way too. Oftentimes just her looks alone can charm an interlocutor, leading to favorable outcomes. 

Eating this little has a downside, coming in the form of low energy levels. She can push pencils all day long, but even short jogs can find her out of breath after a while. Ningguang gets tired and sore fairly easily, making it no surprise that she avoids straining herself. 

She avoids training, but that doesn't mean she simply sits around looking pretty. Each of her mansions is equipped with a rich and well stocked gym for use at yours and hers leisure. Before you came they were mostly gathering dust, but your interest in training reminded her of that purchase. It was nice to see they finally had a use. 

Sometimes, on a slow day, Ningguang will bring out her sport gear and join you in the training room. Most of her time she'll do stretches or use the treadmill, since these don't increase muscle mass that much - the high class canon of beauty doesn't include muscle girls, nor does she see the appeal if truth is told. She's the Tianquan, not some… sea captain. 

Besides, that would be threading on your territory. Why be muscular if you're the muscle man here? If you're strong, then she'll be swift and agile. Perfectly complementary, wouldn't you say? 

When it comes to date ideas, a gym date is a unique one to be sure, but she doesn't mind. It gives both of you a chance to show off your hard earned physiques and spend some quality time together. Ningguang enjoys you spotting for her, even if she won't do the exercises by herself. The attention is always appreciated. 

She wouldn't admit that to anyone, but she enjoys goofing around with you. Using her as a dumbbell or doing push-ups with her casually sitting on your back is both amusing and quite flustering - getting a first hand experience of your strength never fails to get her a little red. But don't tell anyone, or else…!

Sometimes when she needs to think, Ningguang visits you and simply enjoys your presence in silence. There's something hypnotic about you going about your business and the repetitive motions of the equipment. Many times she watched you in silence, only to mutter a silent ‘got it’ before getting up and thanking you with a kiss. Each time after she left the room you were left fairly confused. Confused, but happy to be of help nonetheless.

Thanks for reading!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Monday was like a punch in the face. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

It’s not often you manage to sleep in. It’s a true feat for you to wake up after nine on your days off and not lay wakeless and frustrated at six in the morning. Despite this, you feel less than rejuvenated. In fact, you’re exhausted as you sit up and rub your eyes with the heels of your hand.

Dizziness follows you from the bed as you stumble to the bathroom. After letting out the pressure in your bladder, you rinse your face with cold water in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. You grumble and leave your reflection in the dark.

You snatch up your phone and head downstairs. You flip through your notifs, including a message from your landlord. You’re not entirely surprised by the good night. He seems to struggle with his social filter and timing. Sending you sweet dreams after midnight isn’t exactly sauve.

Whatever. He’s a bit strange but he could’ve lied and charged you for the washer. He could’ve even made you pay for a hotel. As odd as this whole arrangement has become, your complaints can’t outweigh the trouble saved.

You set up the coffee machine to brew and turn to lean in the crook of the counter, enamoured with your phone. You know it’s bad to just sit there staring at a screen at first light but you’re slightly disoriented. You feel like you have to do something to keep from thinking too much.

The coffee is a bit strong. You choke it down as you bring up your inbox. Maybe you should check in about the apartment. Today would be perfect to get back to normal. You have a stretch of five days coming up and you would rather not be scrambling to pack up on a work night.

You bring up Steve’s chat and ignore his last text; ‘sweet dreams, sweetheart ✨’. That’s better left unacknowledged. 

‘Hey, wondering what it’s looking like at my apartment. When do you think it’ll be ready?’

You hit send and stare into the depth of your coffee. The taste isn’t what you’re used to. You like a lighter roast over the smoky dark flavour. You force it down for the much-needed dose of caffeine and rinse the cup. You pause and stare at the dish rack. It’s empty.

You set your glass inside and reach to open the cupboard above. All the dishes are neatly stacked. The plate you used last night set with the rest. The pans are away and the cutlery too. You swore you left them to dry.

You shake off the ripple of unease. Your phone buzzes and you look down at the incoming call. He can’t just text?

You answer it, clearing your throat before you croak out a hello.

“Hey, uh, sorry I haven’t updated you. Been pretty busy,” Steve jumps right in. You can hear activity on his end of the line, “it’s not looking like this will be done today.”

“Oh, really?” You sigh, “well, okay. Thanks for letting me know–”

“Rogers–” Someone calls from his end and he quickly shushes them.

“Yeah, it’s turning out to be a bigger issue than I thought but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“Of course, thanks. Um, I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

“Just a lit–”

The line cuts off. You pull the phone away from your cheek and look at the screen. The timer is paused and the call moves to your history. You’re sure if there’s anything important, Steve will call you back.

You bring up the tab viewer and clear away all the windows. You open a new app and stare at the logo, waiting for it to load. It doesn’t. You close out and try again. Hmm. You pull down the menu and check the wifi; connected without internet. Really?

You notice the bars at the top of your phone are gone too, a circle with a line blink over them. No service either. What the hell? A tower might be out. You put your phone screen down and leave it in the kitchen. You’ll give it twenty and hope it’s back up once you’re dressed.

Upstairs, you dig out an outfit to lounge around in and start on your daily routine. Brush your teeth, cleanse, moisturise, the very basics that make you feel human. Usually, the process renews you but today, everything is a task. You feel and look drawn.

You pull on your lavender sweat and plain white tank. You go back downstairs and retrieve your phone. Still no signal. That means you have to entertain yourself. Or… maybe you can find a coffee shop with a functioning hotspot. You could use something sweet after the bitter dark roast.

You pull on your sneakers and slide your phone into your purse. You jingle the keys as you approach the door. You tend to use the doorcode, it’s just easier, but just in case the wifi is messing with the system. You flip the latch back then grab the handle and twist.

The door doesn’t budge. You try again, yanking harder. You use both hands, pulling on it until you’re out of breath. What the fuck? Are you locked in?

You go to the small box mounted beside the door and check the screen. Armed and secured. Okay? You punch in the code Steve sent you but the thing just beeps at you five times and shows ‘incorrect passcode’. You try again, making sure you punch it in slowly so you don’t get any numbers backwards. The same incessant beeping sounds.

“Ugh!” You cross your arms and step back. You can’t even call Steve to tell him.

You fish out your phone and raise it above you. You walk through each room, trying to find a signal. Nothing. You sniff and try to disconnect and reconnect to the wifi. It doesn’t work. You don’t even know where the router is to reset it.

Panic starts to crawl its way up your body. This is so strange. You’re trapped here, alone, isolated. On your day off, too.

You put your purse down and your phone and go to the window in the front room. Try to push it open but it won’t move. The clasp does nothing to free it and your distress begins to build. What is going on?

You lean forward and look outside, hoping you might chance on an elusive neighbour or a passerby. Nothing. The street is just as empty as usual. 

What do you do? Just sit and wait? You’re at a loss.

You stagger back and fall heavily onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. Something isn’t right, you can feel it, but your mind nips at your intuition. It’s nothing. These things happen. Bad luck comes in threes; broken washer, shitty encounters, and now, you’re cut off from the world. 

You’re through the worst, right?

🖤

You doze off in the tedium of your new wireless existence. You don’t realise until you come too, face down on the leather couch with an arm hanging down to the floor. You bend your elbow and push yourself up, a pang sparking across your lower back from the stiff cushions. You look around, searching for your bearings.

You lean forward and take your phone. It’s been almost two hours since the world shut you out. The service bar is still blinking and the wireless is still disconnected. Goddamn it!

You climb to your feet and shake your head, trying to free yourself from the cobwebs. You’re hungry. You should eat. It’ll give you something to do.

You take out the prepackaged salad in a plastic container. You should eat it before it starts to wilt. You pop the lid off and add the little packets of nuts and cranberries, then drizzle over the dressing. You stir around the leaves, coating them with the oily vinaigrette.

You eat slowly, staring at the fridge and the touchscreen set into it. Fancy fridge. Fancy everything in this place. You almost miss the simplicity of your rattling fridge and leaky washer.

You get about halfway through the salad and give up on the dry kale. Not enough dressing in the world can make that good. You close up the container and put it back in the fridge.

You trail back up the hall to the entryway. You grab the handle again, wrench as you pull on it with all your might. You plant your feet and grunt, fighting to pull it from the frame. You stop and flip the latch, thinking maybe you accidentally locked it. Nope, still stuck.

“It’s not going to open,” a voice echoes from the high ceilings.

You spin and press your back to the door, looking around frantically for the intruder. You don’t know that voice. There’s no one there. Oh god, are you going crazy?

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask aloud, cringing as you realise that is definitely insane. You’re talking to a house.

“I said, it won’t open,” the deep timbre comes again. You gulp.

“Wh- where are you? What– Who–” you sputter, confused at what’s going on. You push away from the door and spin, searching for a shadow or ghost. Whatever it is that’s possessed this place.

“I can see you but you can’t see me,” the narrator says.

You still and turn back to face the security box. Still armed and secured. You pivot slowly, searching the walls and the corners.

Even if you found the cameras, what would you do?”

You squeak and clap your hands together. Okay, this is fucked up. This has to be a nightmare. You close your eyes and bow your head, willing yourself to wake up.

“Rogers is right. You’re a nervous one.”

You pop your head up and stare at the ceiling, “what are you talking about? What is going on?”

The voice laughs. You shake your head as you sink your nails into the back of your hands, clenching them tight. Your heart pounds behind your ears, spinning your head.

“Steve? You know Steve?” You ask desperately.

“Doll, you can ask all the questions you want. You give answers, I don’t.”

You whimper, eyes wetting in horror. This can’t be real. It can’t be. Whatever this is, Steve will come and let you out. Whoever this creep is who hacked his system if just fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you snap, “you… you weirdo. What the fuck?”

“You got a filthy mouth,” he rebukes, “lady’s shouldn’t talk like that.”

You reel and stammer. You scoff and pull your hands apart, trying to steady yourself, “fuck you, dude. Men shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. Spying on me, or whatever.”

There’s a click and silence. You wait for a response. Nothing. You spin again, searching. “Hello?”

Your voice reverberates around you. No answer. Just the still, stolid silence of the house.

A low whir underlines the quiet and you face the door again. The narrow windows along either side begin to disappear. You can’t believe your eyes. Black barriers descend over the glass and block out the sun.

You rush into the front room, finding the same thing on the wide bay window. You rush over but can’t stop it, recoiling before the barrier can crush you. Shit, shit, shit. 

“What is happening?” You holler as you face the open room.

Again, you’re left with your own question. You don’t get it. Is this a joke? Wait, what if this isn’t Steve’s place? You were always told not to trust a landlord…

🖤

You pace and pace until your legs give out. You're weak and wilted. Your mind as addled as your body. You don't get it!

You cry out, begging for an answer; what's happening? Who is this bodiless voice? What do they want from you?

Is this what it's like to snap? To enter psychosis? It can't be real yet you don't think you could machinate such a fantastical terror on your own.

You lay in a heap on the floor, waiting for whatever comes next. It's all you can do. Your fingers are bruised and scraped from clawing at the door and windows. Your eyes are swollen from the flow of tears that rises without permission only to recede to a pulsing anger that makes your skull throb.

You hear a jingle. Digital and bubbly. You pop up and reach for your phone. You keep it on vibrate but you never know. No change. No service.

You huff. What the fuck was that? You clasp your phone tight and wobble to your feet. You walk between the couch and the low coffee table, following the jingle as it sounds again.

You enter the kitchen and find the screen of the Amazon Echo flashing at you from the counter. Where it once displayed the time and weather, you see a blaring font. You get closer and lean in to read it.

'Go to your room. Put the dress on.'

You blink. Huh? What dress? You don't wear dresses. You shake your head and stand straight, looking up at the ceiling.

The device chimes again. You read the new message. 'Do it.'

You sigh. What the hell is this dystopian fever dream?

The screen clears, a new message; 'bad girl, your disobedience has been noted.'

Your chest knots. You don't like the sound of that. It's both frightening and enraging.

You tap the screen. Maybe you can access something through there. Maybe get the wifi working. It does the respond to your touch, it changes again.

'Turn around.'

You retract your hand and stand stalk straight. Eyes wide. You quiver as you slowly shift around. You shield yourself, expecting someone to be waiting for you.

You only find the small flatscreen mounted in the corner of the kitchen lit up. The TV screen plays the very scene you stand in. You get closer, lowering your arm as the figure on the screen does the same. The angle is high, you follow it up to the corner.

You take as step back and glance again at the smart screen on the counter. You jump as music erupts from it, a song you know, that you heard recently. 

'The world is a vampire Sent to drain Secret destroyers Hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires And a piece of the game'

Another message blips up on the screen. You near, hugging yourself as you read it.

'Last chance.'

You shudder and nearly swallow your tongue. You should be defiant. Be strong and stand your ground. You're utterly terrified. Is it Steve? Did he do this?

You turn solemnly away, accepting defeat. You enter the front room and almost in a trance, traipse up the stairs and down the hall. You stop in the doorway of the bedroom. You gasp.

There's a dress on your bed. It wasn't there before. You've never seen it. The red checker pattern, the wrap cut. It's old fashioned in a way. 

The music wafts up louder from the first floor. You spin back to the empty hallway. Someone else was here… are they still there?

[rocketbirdie]

how do you keep yourself motivated when working on bigger/more time-consuming projects ?? I've been working on the same ff7 fic for almost seven months and im like gnawing at the bars of my cage because i wanna post it so bad but it's not done yet!! im so torn, part of me wants to refuse to post WIPs because im convinced im going to jinx myself, and part of me wants to go absolutely ham posting WIPs.

Honestly, I think posting a wip would be a good idea! Getting feedback is a huge motivator, at least in my experience. Hell, post a lot of them! Make memes about it! Turn it into a big deal! Because if you can get people hyped up about it, then that feeling is super contagious. Like when I was slogging through my demake of Demon Gates, making some silly doodles is what helped me stay sane 20 hours in.

And even if you do wind up losing interest in the project, think of it this way: How many fics have you read that were abandoned years ago? How many of those do you still think of as your favorites after all this time, that you re-read occasionally because they're still SO good despite being incomplete? I would much rather see more writers post fics that never get done, than for them to keep them hidden forever out of preemptive guilt.

POST 👏 THAT 👏 WIP!!!! 👏

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Sorry, just this little ficlet, and then I'll continue taking my break. I actually got some progress made on my WIP . . . Whoops, I accidentally wrote a little bit of smut. It was supposed to be just an accidental kiss.

18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie and Steve were friends. To them, they were like Steve and Robin, bound by trauma whilst being completely platonic. Oh, how very wrong they were. The realization came to them by complete accident. Eddie and his band finally had a gig that had a crowd a lot bigger than the crowd back in Hawkins. Corroded Coffin was playing at a decently sized bar just outside of Indianapolis. Steve and Robin were the only ones who could get away. Well, Robin had happily invited Vickie along with them, too. The three of them cheered when Eddie walked up to the mic and threw up devil horns in their direction. The horns slowly dropped, however, when he saw what they were wearing. All three of them were wearing homemade Corroded Coffin t-shirts, and they were all bright pink. He scowled at them and began to play.

Steve was thrilled to watch him play. He couldn't be more delighted at the sight of his friend ruling the stage. . .fucking owning the stage is what he was doing. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed as he watched Eddie's long hair flow backward, exposing his throat as he tilted his head back. Eddie's crop top was drenched with sweat, and droplets ran down his stomach. God, Steve wanted to lick it. Wait. . .what? Before he could question that thought, the show ended, and Eddie was leaving the stage. Steve had to go see him.

"You go, we have to pee," Vickie said, her eyes shining.

Steve scoffed and waved them off. He knew exactly what they were going to do. Steve went into the back, only to find that Eddie wasn't with the rest of the band.

"Yeah, Eddie's in the back office there. He's getting out his excess energy. He was scaring Frankie again," Gareth said.

"I am NOT scared of Eddie, asshole," Frankie muttered.

They hadn't been kidding about Eddie's energy levels. He was practically bouncing off the walls when Steve walked into the room. He threw himself into Steve’s arms and hugged him tightly before pulling back. He was beaming like the sun.

"So, what'd you think?" Eddie asked.

"You were awesome, man! If this is what metal sounds like when you play it, then I could listen to it all of the time," Steve said.

Eddie grabbed his face and pressed a hard, grateful kiss to Steve’s lips. When he felt Steve tense up in surprise, he pulled back, his face red.

"Sorry, I don't know where that came from," Eddie said, and Steve gazed at him for a moment, his mouth open.

"Don't be," Steve quickly. "It was a, uh, nice kiss. Very nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck, I liked it too."

And that's how Steve found himself pressed up against the wall of the office, Eddie's mouth against his in a hungry kiss. God, it felt like Eddie was trying to devour him. Maybe he was, and maybe he wanted to be devoured by him. Was that what that feeling was? Yeah, he knew it. It wasn't any different than when he had strong feelings for a girl, but it was different in a way that felt more final, like he didn't want to kiss anyone else ever again. Maybe that's why he chose to ignore it all these many months that they had spent hanging out together.

Steve moaned as Eddie's hands wandered up his shirt. Eddie cupped his pecs, his thumbs brushing over his nipples and working them as he moved his lips to Steve’s neck. Steve cursed. Suddenly, Eddie's hands were back over his shirt again. They gripped the collar of the shirt tightly as Eddie moved back. He tore the shirt cleanly down the middle.

"Pink, really?" Eddie asked, and Steve grinned wickedly. "I knew you did that shirt on purpose. Bad Boy. Don't worry, I have a couple shirts I brought with me. You can wear one of mine."

Eddie's eyes darkened at the thought of Steve wearing his clothes. He slipped the rest of the shirt off of him before tearing off his own shirt. Steve gripped his hips, pushing him backward until Eddie's legs hit the back of the small couch. Eddie sat down, and Steve straddled him. Steve’s hand dove in between Eddie's legs and cupped Eddie's clothed hard on. Eddie moaned and cursed Steve’s name as he pressed his hand further against him.

"Goddamn it! Fuck you, Steve," Eddie cursed again.

"So, you don't want my hand inside of your pants. . .hand pressed against your hard cock. . .hard just for me, huh?" Steve whispered in his ear.

The image of Eddie with his head tossed back, just like he was now, on stage fueled the fire that was burning inside of Steve. His tight pants were constricting him. They almost hurt.

"Yes! Fuck! I want you to touch me!" Eddie exclaimed and whispered.

Steve unbuttoned his own pants before doing the same with Eddie's. He wanted to stroke their dicks at the same time. Once this fire was lit, it seemed difficult to put out. Steve had slipped his hand into Eddie's pants when the door burst open. Robin came in with Vickie. Everyone froze. Robin stared at Steve and Eddie. They stared back at her while Vickie backed away slowly out of the room.

"This is exactly what it looks like," Eddie said, Steve’s hand still down his pants.

"What the hell?! I thought the three of us were all platonic with a capital p!" Robin exclaimed.

"Sorry," Steve said, not looking sorry at all.

"It's alright," Robin said softly. "I'll forgive you since you're being queer and all. Eddie finish getting fucked by my best friend and buys us some drinks. You owe us for scarring my girlfriend."

"I'm not scarred! I think it's great! I just didn't want to see it!" Vickie hollered.

"Bless her, she's delusional," Robin said and backed out of the room.

"Tell Gareth to bring us some shirts!" Eddie hollered.

Steve climbed off Eddie, laughing with them as he collapsed next to him.

"Ugh, she ruined the mood," Steve complained.

"Yeah. . .so, queer, huh?" Eddie asked.

"Well, what we did definitely wasn't straight," Steve said and they laughed.

The door opened and Gareth came in with his eyes shut.

"Robin said that I should close my eyes because there's something scary going on in here. Eddie. . .did you really try and fight Steve? We told you before you can't take him," Gareth said. "Even in a hypothetical fight."

Eddie scowled and crossed his arms while Steve struggled to contain his laughter. He watched with a fond smile as Eddie pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. He had really been buried deep in his denial because how could he have possibly thought that he and Eddie were just friends?

[slutouttanowhere]

Tatted | J. Uso

paring: jey uso x mavis pete (my oc)

authors note: this is a wip that’s been sitting in my docs for months, I had bigger plans for it at the time, but it seems like that’s just not happening. ive been desperate to post something lol, so I hope y’all still enjoy this regardless.

Mavis finally had a weekend off, being a full time college student, while working a 9-5 is hell on wheels. Today she decided to treat herself by going out, splurging at the mall, and finally getting that tattoo she had been putting off for a month now. She didn’t know much about the place, Just that Liv and Rhea highly recommend it. “Mmm looks like nobody’s here…there’s a car out back.” She mumbled to herself, she pushed the door, and sure enough it was unlocked. There was a guy sitting at the front desk, his hair was dyed red on the tips, and shaved up the sides into a Mohawk. He lifted his head upon her entering, Mavis bit her bottom lip, they didn’t tell me this man was fine as hell, she thought to herself.

“How can I help you?”

“Umm I was told y’all take walk-ins?” She asked, a little unsure with the information her two best friends had given her. He stood up from his seat revealing that he himself was covered in tattoos. His arms were covered from his wrist all the way to his shoulders in something she recognized as tribal tattoos from her cousin.

“Depends on who told you that.”

Mavis couldn’t help but roll her eyes, she quickly lost her patience. “If I told you the boogie man would you believe me?”

“No, because the boogie man not real, now you’re a liar.”

“Boy! Do you take walk ins or not?” She snapped at him, her hand on her hip, and her other arm occupied by her purse. The mysterious tattooed man eyed Mavis up and down taking her in.

“Depends on who told you that.” He repeated again, this time speaking slower.

“Ugh, my friends from work did, what does that matter?”

“What’s their name?” He asked, Mavis paused for a second, she could have replied with a smart answer, but she didn’t feel like standing there and arguing any longer.

“Ugh, Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan, you know them or something?

“Liv and Rhea? Why didn’t you just say that, c’mon back.” He smiled brightly showing his gold and diamond grillz, his had did a complete one eighty as if his attitude from earlier never desisted

Mavis didn’t argue, she figured if he knew her girls, and her girls knew him there’s nothing to worry about. Her eyes wandered around the room as he got things set up, it’s not like she hasn’t been to a tattoo show before, she has her own tattoo lady back in Huston. “My name is Joshua, but you can call me Jey, what can I do for you sweetheart?” He asked sweetly, he sat on a stool across from her, his gaze focused.

“I'm Mavis.” She grew quiet suddenly feeling shy, she crossed one leg over the other, then pulled out her phone. “I was actually trying to decide between these three, but I couldn’t decide.” She admitted sheepishly, she felt bad for not coming with a definitive choice, but that’s what happens when you procrastinate.

Jey scooted closer to me, “Show me what you got.” His eyes watched Mavis as she scrolled through her phone, he couldn’t help but linger on her mouth as she chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Her long, curly, honey-blonde hair looked like a lion's mane the way it fanned out around her head, and framed her face.

“Okay so there’s this one, it’s from this anime, Naruto—

“That’s the one.” Jey said confidently, he nodded his head approving the choice immediately. He grinned seeing the confusion on Mavis’ face, Jey’s been tattooing for fifteen plus years, and he's good at matching art pieces to his clients.

“But you haven’t even seen the other two.” She argued lightheartedly, ever so the overthinker, Mavis didn’t wanna ink something on her body that she’d regret later.

Jey’s voice cut through the noise in her head, “trust me, your body shape is perfect for something like this.” He insisted as he eyes trailed over the soft curves of the space between her rib cage, and hips. She came dressed for the occasion in a cropped top that stopped a few inches below her chest, the rest of her torso was exposed.

Mavis thought about it for a moment, then Liv and Rhea popped into her head, well Liv and Rhea’s been going to him for a while so since they trust him…she thought to herself. A feeling of excitement washed over her, “okay let’s do it.” She clapped excitedly, and automatically went to lay down on bed on her back.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

tw: fem!reader, half demon!seungcheol, exorcist!wonwoo mxm actions, threesome, mild knife play, seungcheol and reader are mean doms - minors and those who are uncomfortable dni.

fyi - wip spoiler. happy scoups day :)

"You know, for an exorcist," Seungcheol pins Wonwoo down on the mattress, "I expected you to put up a bigger fight."

"Fuck you, demon." Wonwoo barks and the older man chuckles dryly.

"That's what I - we are about to do to you, pretty boy," he gets up and takes off his shirt and jeans, his throbbing cock heavy in his hand, "And you better behave."

"You motherfucker-"

"Wonu," you chime in, "Don't act up, love. It doesn't suit your character." You unbutton his pants and slide them down his legs, leaving him only in his muscle tee and boxers. 

"Y/N-"

"Darling." You drag your nails over his thighs and Wonwoo bites his bottom lip to suppress his incoming whimper.

"That's more like it." You press a kiss on his clothed cock, right on his tip.

"Isn't she an angel?" Seungcheol grips Wonwoo's jaw and forces him to look right in his distorted eyes, "You should be thanking her for treating you so nicely."

"And you should be taking notes." The younger man spits back.

"Guess what," the demon growls and repeatedly slaps his cock on Wonwoo's cheek, "I'm going to fuck you like a cheap whore and you'll fucking take it."

You feel his cock twitch underneath your palm and let out a low giggle. You get up from your position and quickly rummage through your nightstand, a wicked smirk spreading on your face when you find the crimson switchblade Seungcheol gave you a few weeks ago.

"Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Wonwoo's eyes worriedly flit over to the sharp blade in your hand, a loud hiss escaping his mouth when you drag it over his clothed bulge and v-line.

"Shut up and watch." Seungcheol taps his cock again, his hand buried in the exorcist's hair. 

You get a hold on the fabric of his boxers and rip them in half with the switchblade, finally letting Wonwoo's cock spring free.

"You have a really pretty cock, Wonu," you run your fingernail over his shaft, "I want to ride it so bad."

"Patience, sweetheart," Seungcheol smiles sweetly at you, "Now hand over the blade, I have some work left to do."

You wordlessly give him the blade and he wastes no time to slide it through the younger man's shirt, slicing it into pieces and exposing his muscular body.

[musewrangler]

Jedi Piett WIP

I'm sorry, but I have to share a snippet because this is SUCH a fun story to write! Can't fully publish yet as I want to finish another one first, but it's moving along!

“Look,” he said, struggling to his feet and coming over to the shorter boy. “I was a slave. Back on Tatooine.” Firmus’s already big eyes got bigger. “You mean with…with a chip?” he whispered.  Anakin appreciated someone who got the problem immediately. Who knew how the Rim worked. “Yeah. I mean, it’s Hutt territory and you know how they are.” Firmus bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “Some. They had dealings around Axxila. But our biggest problem was the Black Sun.” He said the name as though he wanted to spit. Anakin had heard terrible stories about the smuggler cartel. “Were…were you a slave too then?” he asked. Firmus sighed and turned to lean his arms on the balustrade, resting his chin on them. Anakin stepped beside him and joined him. “Not exactly,” he replied at last, his emotions turbulent in the Force. “I was never chipped or anything. I had a collar but it wasn’t the lethal kind.” “So what happened then?” Anakin pushed, knowing somehow that the other boy needed to tell him. He was reasonably sure this was a prodding in the Force. He’d need to ask Obi-Wan later. A single tear tracked out of the corner of Firmus’s left eye as he stared sightlessly out over the vast city. “My…father sold me. My powers were a problem. But to some people they were worth a lot of credits, so…” Anakin took this in, something strange and sick feeling in his stomach. “Wait. You—-you knew you had powers?” “I knew something was weird about me,” Firmus replied grimly. “The…the men who bought me made me tap into my power by…” He closed his eyes, jaw working against his memories. Anakin waited.  “I had to kill,” Firmus said at last, giving Anakin a nervous glance, clearly fearing how he would react. “Kark,” he said with sympathy. “What um…?” “Animals,” Firmus said, voice so sad. “To save people. All for entertainment. I hated it. So you see—-I’m pretty messed up.” “Nope.” Firmus raised both eyebrows at the certainty in Anakin’s voice and half turned to look at him. But Anakin was certain. He’d been here long enough to know these Jedi masters. Okay, Windu was a hard ass, but Plo was great and obviously so was Obi-Wan and lots of others. Further, his master always encouraged him to watch a being’s physical reactions at the same time as their Force sense.  “One informs the other, Anakin. It’s important to note both when assessing a being’s character.” “Look,” he said, “Master Plo wouldn’t bring you here if he thought that. And I can feel that you…you were hurt. But you’re not dark or something. Kark, you’re not evil. Bad things happened to you. Same for me. My mom is still a slave back on Tatooine.”  His throat got tight as he said this, and he saw Firmus wince in sympathy. But he plowed on. “I want to save her. So I want to be a Jedi.” There was a long pause. The wind tugged at their hair and far below Anakin could hear the noises of Coruscant.  The words, when they came, were very soft. “So…you think I can be one too then?”  Firmus said it almost shyly, and shivered a little in the breeze.  “Of course. And I’ll need someone from the Rim to help me free slaves. Someone who gets it.” A full smile graced the Axxilan’s face then. “All right.” “Now come on. You’re too skinny to be out here this long. And I have another set of tunnels to show you before you sneak back to bed. Even Obi-Wan doesn’t know about them.” And the two boys slipped back inside the vent, the grate sliding into place with a light click.

[outtoshatter]

This week's author spotlight is: the wonderful @raisesomehale! So many delightful fics to choose from!!

One-shots:

Beyond the Canyon Nook | T | 7k tags: spark Stiles, magical realism, found family Summary: Stiles has retrieved countless children from the shadows.

But Eli is the first child Stiles has found alone.

All I Want for Christmas, is You | E | 6k tags: post-canon, pack feels, Christmas fluff Summary: The sight of him is like whiplash.

Stiles and Derek have managed to keep up a reasonably active text-ship for the last few years (heavily due to Stiles’ undying persistence on the matter) but Derek’s recent inclination to jump around between continents paired with Stiles’ grueling school schedule has resulted in them not having been in the same room since Stiles left for Brown the summer after he graduated.

He’s broader. Taller. Hair buzzed short like it hasn’t been since he was a sophomore in high school, a scar nicked into the corner of his left eyebrow that Derek remembers hearing the story about (a frisky leprechaun with a bad sense of humor and a hard-on for blades.)

And when Stiles’ eyes catch sight of Derek across the room, his grin glitches into shock and he lets go of the door.

Which must be safety-weighted, considering the force with which it slams backwards against Scott.

Club Serenade | T | 822 tags: DJ Stiles, Bartender Derek, sexual tension Summary: Stiles, popular DJ at the Hale's club The Wolf Den, catches the attention of the bartender and part owner, Derek.

Serenading ensues.

Multi-Chaptered Fics:

Define "Dating" | T | 7k | 6 chapters tags: 5+1 things, oblivious Stiles, didn't know they were dating Summary: “You and Derek text each other memes?” she sounds both surprised and delighted - but more surprised.

“Well,” Stiles says, “I send memes. Derek sent me a picture of a newspaper comic strip, once.”

Lydia says, “Oh my god.”

- OR the 5 times people point out that Stiles might be dating Derek + the 1 time Derek tells Stiles they're dating himself.

Bite the Moonlight & Bleed Gold | E | 87k | 18 chapters tags: magical creatures, BAMF Derek, Creature Stiles, angst, mutual pining Summary: Seven years after being tricked and imprisoned by the Argents, Derek Hale finds himself off the blistering coasts of Antarctica aboard the Argentum Domina, an illegal prison ship out of which the Argents operate their behemoth, underground poaching empire. Bitter and packless, Derek spends his days working off his servitude by poaching creatures for Gerard to sell on the Black Magic Market, no future or end in sight. Until, Allison Argent brings him a capture case with a reward price so ludicrous that he has no choice but to accept.

The only problem is, the target creature shouldn't even exist.

Derek is flung fast into the deep webbings of a bigger mystery than he could have ever imagined. And discovers that, like this enchanting creature, not everything is as it seems.

Bonus wip:

light a spark | T | 37k | 9/15 chapters so far! tags: canon divergence, fluff and humor, energy bond Summary: “It’s not” - Derek cuts off as quickly as he starts, teeth gritting with frustration - “It’s not like the others it’s… There’s a reason I came to your house last.”

Stiles’ eyebrows raise. This is hands down the weirdest Derek has ever acted around him, and it’s making him curious. 

“And that reason being…?” He rolls the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows and leans against his desk to start untying his shoes.

“I need” - Derek grits through clenched teeth - “Your help.”

Stiles just blinks at him, shoes in his hands. “That was excruciating to witness, just so you know.”

Go check out raisesomehale's AO3 page and don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos and maybe even a comment!

[starry-nights12]

Baby in Blue(WIP)

Summary: Heaven is super excited because today, her and Jinx are having a girls day out. But unfortunately, Heaven is reminded that good days don't always stay happy.

Tag(s):Fluff,Family Fluff, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child POV,Parent-Child Relationships.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

I hummed as I skipped into the elevator. "Mommy, do you wanna know a fun fact?"

"Sure! I love fun facts!" Mommy closed the gates and then re-locked them.

"The fun fact for the day is that I'm very pretty."

Mommy smiled at me that made me feel loved. "That's because you get it from your Father,child." She pulled the lever that closed the elevator door and then takes us all the way down.

"You're pretty too,Mommy!" I smiled big because it's true.

I thought she smile big too because it's nice being called pretty. But I felt a little sad when Mommy only nodded, showimg me a little smile, and then petted my hair.

Mommy calls Daddy handsome and pretty all time and it makes Daddy smile. When Daddy calls her beautiful, sometimes she smiles and giggles. 

It's always so gross when they kiss on the mouth. I always say, "Ewwwwwwwww!" and have to look away.

We both have freckles,blue hair and I have one pink eye. We all have pointy teeth too! I called them fangs but Mommy said they're called canines-like the dogs!

I guess we be crazy dogs since we like biting Daddy sometimes. Sometimes she hugs me from behind to bite my cheek.

Not in a mean way! She says she bites us in a loving and playful way.

She's like a porcupine 'cause of all the spikes she has. Her earrings,her choker, pants, gloves,and boots are ALL SPIKEY!!!

I tell her if she hugs me too hard that she'll pop me like a balloon or poke my eye out and that makes her laugh and smile. I love making her laugh and smile-it's the best thing ever.

I hugged alot of people before:

My Daddy ,Aunts, Uncle Scar, my friend Anna, Mr. Heimerdinger, Ziggs,Kayn, Great Aunt Cassandra and Great Uncle Tobias.

They're all so warm and it feels nice. But one thing about Mommy is that she's ALWAYS cold. It's like hugging a snowman.

She has blue lines around her around her eyes- and her lips are always purple but not when she puts on lipstick for date night with Daddy.

Her skin is really, very pale. It makes me think of a ghost. I don't tell her that part like the porcupine one 'cause I think that'll be mean and make her sad.

I think that's why she didn't smile. Does she not think she's pretty? I hope not 'cause I love Mommy and I know she's the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.

It's always dark in her hideout but her eyes always glowed. Sometimes I wake up at night and she'll be in my room sitting next to me while she stared.

I like it though.

Mommy said she's been watching me since I was a little baby. I like it more when she's there after I had a bad dream. That way, I can hug her and tell her what happened.

It's with these bright colorful lights and dolls hanging there. There's spray paint everywhere and she even has a bathtub in there!

There are propellers we have to walk on to get to her work table. Mommy said it used to be a thing that was suppose to help Zaunites with clean air but Piltover people gave up on fixing it.

Theres a HUGE,big black hole down there. Mommy's and Daddy take me on their hoverboards really super high and them let me fall.

It's REALLY fun! They always,ALWAYS catch me and been doing it since I was littler so I'm not scared of heights.

I know to never,ever run on it 'cause it's dangerous but Mommy always holds my hand.

She wants me to stand behind the fence thing. Mommy's bigger,so she gets to stand and sit on the propeller. She pulled two chomper pins with her teeth-she's so cool- and watched it beep.

Its mouth started moving faster and its eye blinked really fast. Mommy kicked them and we watched it fall in the pit until...BOOM !

"Yay!" I cheered,lifting my arms up in the air and jumping. Mommy looked at me and smiled big like she always do when I cheer.

We laugh and smile when she did another one. I love watching how the real ones burst into flames as they fall.

Sometimes Mommy gives me her lighter-Well, Grandpa's Silco's lighter 'cause it has an 'S' on it.

She let's me hold it and watch the flames. It's like it's dancing when is moves back and forth. I could watch it forever 'cause it's that pretty.

I love the fireplace at my Aunts and Great Aunt and Uncle. They only use it for winter but I love staring at the fire 'cause it's so warm and beautiful.

It makes me want to take alot of paper and watch it burn. I'm six-years-old now and that makes me a big girl and know not to touch it or I'll hurt myself.

That's why she and Daddy let me sometimes-they call it a controlled fire. We'll go outside in a alley with balled-up paper and a cup of water.

Mommy or Daddy would lit it and we watch the paper turn black and spread to the other ones. I like it but it's always small and that's boring.

When I'm bigger I'm going to do a whole big fire without them 'cause being bigger means you can do what you want without Mommy and Daddy.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

I am awake early enough!

Asking for.... hm. Vampdrew I think 🤔 or if you're not feeling that then Arsonneil 🥺 -- @quiescentdestiny

WIP Wednesday (9/25) | Vampire Andrew AU (Part 183)

When they get back to the dorms, after everyone's had their little check up with Abby, Andrew brings Kevin to the bedroom and locks the door behind them. He doesn't want interference from his relatives and unlike Andrew, they can be stopped by a simple lock. Andrew turns to find Kevin sitting on the bottom bunk just how he'd been earlier. He glances up at Andrew and back down at his shoes. 

From a simple peek into his head, Andrew can see Kevin isn't scared of him. Not really. Not that way. He's just mildly terrified of what Andrew's going to say. He knows Andrew heard all his thoughts back at the stadium. But he also knows Andrew is still pissed at him.

"I was pissed at you, Day. Not anymore. We already talked about it, remember?" Andrew says, answering his thoughts. Just after he finished cleaning up Kevin's arm, Andrew went out for a bite of something with slightly less brains than Kevin. (He managed a couple of bunny rabbits and a weird-looking bird. Speaking of which, he thinks he's got a feather stuck in his teeth. It's driving him more insane.) 

He got back just before the team meeting began. Just in time to pick up the others. His little trip to the woods hadn't completely dampened his thirst. As soon as Neil stepped into the parking lot, Andrew was focused on him. Since he was focused on not biting a chunk out of Neil's shoulder for the whole car ride, Andrew didn't get a chance to break the news to Neil about their upcoming party. He'll do it later.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"Ah, ah, ah. This is not Kevin Talk time. This is Andrew Talk time." Andrew says, zipping Kevin's lips from across the room. "I do not want any more apologies. We spoke about it in the hallway, we did that then. Apparently it bears repeating: You have no reason to be afraid. I am with you. More importantly, you are with me.

"I will never let anyone hurt you. Ever. From Neil to Riko and Tetsuji to the National fucking Guard. No one will touch you. I will not allow it. You are mine and I will keep you safe. Stop worrying. I am here. You are here. You are never going back there.

"I don't care how worried the others are, I don't care how big and scary Riko thinks he is. I am bigger; I am scarier. And like you said— thought— earlier, I will hear them coming."

Kevin's heart is a herd of wild mustangs in his chest, the sound of it inviting and addicting. Andrew listens to it and to Kevin's thoughts until the human finally opens his stupid, pretty mouth. "I know. I know you'll keep me safe, Andrew."

"Then we have no problems. Except for the matter of you choosing Coach over me. That was bad, Kevin. You hurt my feelings."

Kevin lets out a laugh and Andrew smiles with all his teeth.

"I'm serious Kevin. You've mortally wounded me."

"I can tell," Kevin says, then his thoughts stray a bit. The thought of being wounded takes Kevin to his scuffed up arm earlier, then his mind jumps into horny territory. Andrew clears his throat and Kevin swallows. "It's not my fault. You're the one who was licking me all sensually."

"Sensually." Andrew starts to work a fingernail in between his teeth.

"Yeah. My eyes were closed but I could feel it."

"You lie. I licked the blood off you as clinically as possible."

"Clinical like a porno set in a doctor's office maybe." Kevin says, leaning back on the bed.

Andrew scoffs. "I think you need a new adult website. Yours sounds supremely boring."

"Andrew, you know it's not just..." Kevin trails off for a moment, thinking about what to say. It’s idiotic because Andrew is getting both the edited and raw versions. Kevin seems to remember that and looks back up. "It's not just physical. I care about you. The fact that your mouth is on me once a week is just a bonus."

"Don't word it that way." Andrew finally dislodges the bit of feather from his teeth and fishes it out of his mouth with a couple fingers, grimacing at it before flicking it away.

"How should I word it?"

"You are food to me, Kevin. The fact that you haven't got fur or feathers is just a bonus."

"Okay." Kevin doesn't seem happy to hear it, but he nods. "Fine. If that's all you want, fine."

"That's all I want."

Kevin doesn't hear the lie. Instead, he sighs and changes the topic. "I assume Neil made it back to the dorm alive?"

[herofics]

OK hear me out? The league of villains with a quirkless reader who is a bad ass fighter just like Rick, Daryl and Negan combined and only one of them started falling in love with her (Spinner)

A/N: I have no clue who any of those people are, so I can’t really base this on any of them, but oh well. I have a lot of WIPs that I need to work on, because I have a couple of requests from like back in May, and I just haven’t gotten around to those. I hope I can get them done in the coming week, but we’ll see

•The league was looking for strong fighters for their cause, and you were a customer/acquaintance of Giran’s so he recommended you

•This was after a lot of the League’s vanguard action squad got caught at the training camp

•Spinner doesn’t really consider his quirk to be anything special, sometimes he even wishes he didn’t have it, because it has caused him a lot of grief in the past

•The fact that you’re quirkless doesn’t particularly bother him, but he doesn’t really care either

•He was a bit worried if you were going to be any good in a fight, but that worry was dispelled quickly after the first time he saw you fight

•All the League and Shigaraki cared about was that you were a good, ruthless fighter, who didn’t have any misgivings about what the League was doing

•So as long as Shigaraki was fine with you joining, Spinner didn’t have any complaints

•You were a bit of a loner just like Spinner, but you and him kind of bonded over video games

•You hadn’t really played much in recent years before you joined the League, while that’s basically all Spinner had been doing before he joined

•Spinner never really had any friends before he joined the League and he was pretty much a shut in NEET

•Your own situation hadn’t been much different, but you had become an active villain a couple of years before joining the League already

•Spinner and you use similar weapons such as swords and knives, but you also have a modified metal bat with spikes

•You both take care of your weapons, sharpening them and cleaning them after each fight

•During those times, the two of you got to talking and you realized you were kinda similar in the way you thought about hero society and your admiration for Stain

•You’d never had to worry about how people perceived you based on your appearance, unlike Spinner

•People with the mutant type quirks are often treated unfairly and straight up like shit, especially if they have bigger mutations such as Spinner’s

•You never treated him differently though, no one in the League really did, which he appreciated a lot

•Spinner ended up developing feelings for you during your time together with the League and you became close

•You were sort of oblivious to how he felt about you until he just told you

•You didn’t really know what to say to him for a long time, so you just stopped talking to him until you figured out what you wanted to say

•You eventually accepted his feelings, but the week between his confession and that happening was nerve-racking for him

[amaiguri]

Meet My Mutuals #MeetMyMoots

Friends and mutuals, I am starting a new tag called #MeetMyMoots. Something I see discussed on here a lot is about how Tumblr used to have more actual community, less social-media-ness and I think community is cool and important. And I've been neglecting my Tumblr anyway. So, I'm gonna be the change I want to see in the world and get you guys all connected -- and then you should each introduce me to YOUR mutuals and then we'll all start having stronger community circles.

Please try not to put anyone on blast who doesn't want to be on blast -- I limited this one to people who explicitly said they were open to tag games, asks, friends, etc.

Okay, without further ado and in no particular order, let's introduce everyone!

@theprissythumbelina is a horse girl and writer. She posts GREAT posts about horses and the way they work now and the jobs formed around them... Right now, I think her (and I think she/her pronouns) big WIP is Mortal Sparks -- it's about wars and necromancy and complicated mother-daughter relationships.

@tower-of-hana (she/it pronouns) is a conlanger! She shit-posts about linguistics and I love that. They're great. If you want more linguistics in your life, this is your entity!

@maiemorrae (she/her) is a writer who also plays games, especially the Sims. Right now, she's working on... (I mean, I'd call it an "IP" but that sounds so clinical but WORK WITH ME) a collection of stories and books and games set in her gaslamp fantasy world of Luctine! The barrier between life-and-death vanished and now people who use magic are highly regulated. It's very cool Spooky Victorian vibes.

(...Why are these images progressively getting bigger? I don't understand...) @anyablackwood (she/her) is one of my earliest moots. She writes a lot of different things but I THINK she just started overhauling her Big One TM (Feel free to chime in!) that's a wlw story set in Heian Japan. She's a really active member and we trade a lot of tag games! But I'd love to get more familiar with her work in specific!

@moonfeatherblue (aka Blue Mooney on YouTube) is a Vtuber and a writer? One of the few, one of the proud *Salutes*. Blue has a couple of big works (that I was supposed to read and edit and then my life fucking imploded I'm sorry I'm a bad mutual *Sobs*) but also writes and brainstorms short stories with her YouTube chat! I love her, even though I don't get to spend nearly enough time with her lolol

@pluttskutt (she/her) is a fantasy writer who writes for the joy of it! She has a lot of different stories, mostly about ace/aro people (Iand she's very active -- always posting picrews and aesthetics and participating in tag and ask games. She also runs the Trick-or-Treat writer tag in Octobers! <3

-----------------------------------------------------------------

AHHHHHH and that's all I'll inundate you all with now! Very excited to be back on Tumblr more actively! :D I'll try to do another of these sometime to cover more of my very cool Moots. And also, open tag to anyone else who would like to introduce me to their Moots too <33333

Like I said: This is about building stronger community :3

(And if anyone wants to be removed for some reason, let me know!)

[ouroboros-hideout]

Russian Girl

Alyona "Aon" Petrova 02/???

I am just a simple Russian girl I've got vodka in my blood So I dance with brown bears And my soul is torn apart

First look at corpo!Aon. Damn. It's so weird. But I like it. Not sure about the hair yet, and finding clothes is pain. But it's something.

Mayor wall of text and brainrot (and probably spelling mistakes) under the cut. Enter at your own risk.

I think I only talked about this AU in a Wip Whenever 200 years ago. So the core to it is basically that Aon never left Moscow to join a clan of Nomads and was more or less forced to stay and start her career at SovOil as an engineer.

She later meets Kurt through some "lucky" circumstances and leaves with him to America to work for Militech, fights in Unification War at his side and takes part in the creating Dogtown (what a delulu AU).

So far so good. I really like this "What if" -scenario a lot, but still had some difficulties with it which, I think, I know have solved.

Thanks to Ves and Olly for the insane Vlad Brainrot lately. Even if he's a sick bastard and I am still not sure why you want your precious OCs to suffer so much, but we don't shame anyone in this circus.

First thing that was a major stomache ache for me is the fact that Aon never got her "happy found family"-moments with the Nomads what is a huge part of her character developement in the main story. I know I shouldn't bother so much, since it's an AU. But I feel sorry for her, that I leave her in this golden cage.

Second thing I wasn't sure about is how she and Vlad would interact in this AU, since they would become "colleagues". They work in different departments, but they already knew each other so it would be weird, if they wouldn't have some touch points.

How to solve the issue with Aon beeing lonely in the Corpo-World: I had an idea for a person for a tiny little role in my main story for quite some time now but she always felt kind of "out of place" or "forced into the story". She (doesn't have a name yet. Just vague and blurry pictures in my head) is a Nomad in another clan as Aon, and both families have a rivalry going on. So they wouldn't have so much touch points because of bad blood. But she actually knew Aon's real father and would give her some major hints of what happened to him, after Aon's mom took her away into the big city as a lil baby girl. So I thought: why not bring her into the corpo AU. The how and why they meet shouldn't be to hard to figure out and I like the thought that Aon can get her "Nomad-Experience" through her and the stories she would tell. The feeling of freedom through a friend (or more ;) )

How to solve Vlads and Aons relationship: I decided they are something like medium-close friends. They are both huge loners, don't have many or any friends within the corporation or in general so they bonded over their loneliness. Vlad of course tried to rizz on her for quite some time, but she is resistent to his "charm". Still a very complicated dynamic. They can rely on each other, even if she is 80% of the time annoyed about anything he says or does, but it's still better than having no one around. Let's call it grumpy friends. I don't know how to put it better. And she kinda feels sorry for him, because she knows, that in his fucked up little head and heart is actually something human left, but he is unable to "get it out". For him she plays an even bigger role, besides having a normal social contact, because she knows about his little "accidents" and bodies, that need to be hidden afterwards.

I could go on with my blabbering about all of this for a lot longer but I think it's enough words for this post and I already start to lose the context and my head goes all over the place. Brainrot stronk! AHU!

Great, you made it to the end. Here's something silly for your endurance.

[dreamwatch]

STWG daily drabble

prompt: working together

(I struggled with this one, so I made it a missing scene from one of my WIPs.)

c/w - mention of homophobic slurs, but no specifics

****

They pull up outside the Munson’s new trailer, and wow. Yeah, it’s as bad as Hopper said it was.

The trailer is bigger than their old one, the once ivory paint job looks like milk that’s been left out to sour. It’s the perfect canvas for the large red ‘MURDERER’ that’s been painted right across it, windows and all. There are smaller scrawls, a pentagram, ‘Freak’, even a couple of homophobic slurs, which… what the fuck? The smouldering shell of Wayne Munson’s truck just completes the whole horror show.

“Bastards,” Robin fumed, and Steve thinks that’s an understatement.

They follow Hopper and Jonathan to meet Wayne who's on his way down the porch steps with a bucket and mop. He look’s surprised to see them. 

“Thought you could use a hand. Good thing about spring break,” Hop motions behind him, “plenty of teenagers around looking for some hard work.”

Steve and Jonathan give a small hand raise in greeting before Jonathan takes the bucket and mop. “I’ll make a start at that end,” he says before heading up to the far end of the trailer to tackle the ‘R’.

“Mister Munson, I am so sorry, the people in this town are fucking assholes, excuse my language, but they are, and you don’t deserve this, you or Eddie. This town sucks.”

Mister Munson looks shellshocked, like he’s on autopilot. He just nods at Robin in response.

“Wish you’d all call me Wayne. Thought we were past all that Mister Munson bullshit, hmm?”

He sounds so fucking defeated, and Robin must hear it too because she flies at him and wraps her arms around his shoulders for the quickest of hugs. “We’ll have this cleaned up in no time, you’ll see.” She throws him the warmest of smiles before heading back to Hoppers truck to pull out the buckets and cleaning products they brought with them.

Steve grabs a brush and bucket and attacks the nastier words painted under Eddie’s window. Wayne sent him out of town for the week, up to the Indiana Dunes, to avoid the inevitable media circus. First year anniversary. Steve can at least be happy that Eddie isn’t here to see this. He’ll know when he sees the shiny paint job (not to mention the truck) that something went down, but knowing it and seeing this shit daubed all over your home are two different things.

They’ve been going for a few hours. Steve’s still pretty fit, he jogs, does some free weights, he’s not a couch potato, but his arms are burning and he throws the scrubbing brush into the bucket angrily. These fucking pissants. He wishes he could get his hands on them, he’s itching to hit someone. 

Eddie doesn’t deserve this.

They finish up by late afternoon. The trailer is still fucked, there’s just no two ways about it, but they’ll be back in a couple of days to give it a new coat of paint. It feels like it’s not enough.