#and then while others try to doodle to get used to it i go “ah yes let me spent 2 weeks being a tryhard” JAWHWJAKG

[kisses-soft-like-sunshine]

Bittersweet - Part III *rewritten*

Fluff w angst, Lee Know x fem!reader, coffee shop AU, idol AU, 1070 words. Content warning: none! As promised, here is the rewritten part III for Bittersweet. I feel like it deserved a better ending and I hope this does justice! Thank you for reading :) Tagged: @linocz <3

The drive to the café is filled with shyness and unsaid words. If it weren't for social conventions you would ask him everything and anything. I can't believe I hugged him… what's wrong with me? He's going to think I'm just another fan girl… You wondered what his dating life must be like, with his demanding lifestyle. How little intimacy he can actually manage to get… You were saddened to see how right you were to assume his loneliness echoed yours. The bright neon letters of the coffee shop picking through the windshield relieved a soft gasp out of you and him both. His mind and heart were all over the place too. If it weren't for his focus being on the road, he would have melted into your arms again or skyrocketed himself into outer space never to be seen again. You both needed the warmth of each other more than you’d like to admit, more than he’d allow it.

You made your way to the alley discreetly, followed by your charming stranger, his eyes tenderly storing the details of you in his heart for keepsake. You both sat at the makeshift table you and your coworkers used on breaks, when you noticed his gaze on you. A small but unabashed grin grazed your lips as you chose the sky over his gorgeous onyx eyes. The heat of your cheek could keep you warm for the winter to come. God, how warm his arms were…

“What should I get you? The usual?” you asked, trying to distract your own thoughts.

“Do you remember every customer’s order?”

“No. Not, everyone…” You, only you. You didn’t even know you did before he asked you the question.

“Ah… I’ll have the usual then, yes.” He said with a kittenish smile. 

You excused yourself and went back inside, hoping your coworkers wouldn’t mind your presence. Luckily, the one who knew about the situation (partially) was not here today. You made matching cappuccinos for the both of you with precision, adding a delicate heart-shaped drawing to his. A common practice which took on a brand new connotation. You kept yourself from giggling at your own actions, resolved to calm yourself before joining him again. It’s probably just the tension diffusing… Everything was so intense. He was there when no one else was… There’s nothing else to it, really. His gentle gaze as you peered through the back door snapped you back to your feelings. Oh, how screwed you were…

“Thank you” he said as he grabbed both drinks, making it easier for you to sit back down. You simply smiled at him as a response. 

His ears turned pink again when he noticed the specific drink you had handed him had a heart doodled on it while the other didn’t. You couldn’t help but wonder how the warmth of his blush would feel on the softness of your lips. How the softness of his lips, now gently kissing the porcelain, would feel on your lips… Your gaze shifted to your drink when his eyes reached yours over the cup. Oh, no… I was staring. You both drank your coffees quietly, enjoying the comfort of the other being near, when small drops started to trace dark dots on the pilling mint table.

You looked up at the clouds above simultaneously, then at each other. Without a word, you both stood and reached for the door but found it closed. You had inadvertently kicked the box holding it open on your way back, too busy preventing yourself from daydreaming about him. You were locked outside with the rain pouring harder and harder. You looked at him with sorry eyes and he laughed it off. His hand grabbed yours before he pulled you toward the nearest shelter. The old movie theater in the next door building had one of these classic red awning ornamenting its unused exit. It wasn’t far but by the time you both reached it you were soaked. He let go of your hand as he turned to look at you, his radiant smile drying the droplets on your skin. You answered with a smile of your own and he could have sworn he was growing a fever just by looking at you. You tenderly brushed the strands of hair falling over his face, making his ears burn even more. He flinched at the sight of the scar sealed on the inside of your hand and suddenly grabbed it in his. You were startled by his gesture but it’s the soft kiss he placed on your injured palm that made you lose your breath. Your wound must have opened again by the way his kiss electrified your whole body. Or maybe it had healing properties. He kept his eyes closed as he pressed into it, and your thumb intuitively traced the bridge of his nose. He let go of your hand, and you moved it to the side of his face, gently caressing it in a reassuring manner. It was okay. You were okay. His eyes searched for yours in the daze of the cloudy weather and you blinked softly as to let him know your guards were down. You moved closer and placed your hand on the side of his neck, fingers brushing at the sprouts of his hair. He was the one who moved closer this time, holding you to his chest, his hands nervously reaching for you like he did back at the police station. This felt new yet instinctive for the both of you. You couldn’t decipher his heartbeat from yours. He sweetly brushed his nose on the side of yours before faintly placing his mouth on your own. The cushiony texture of his lips on yours made you sink deeper into the kiss. Both of your hands were fully wrapped around his neck now, your fingers comfortably nesting in his silky hair. A grin grew on his lips and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“This isn't… something… I mean, this isn’t a habit of mine…” he said, parting from your lips reluctantly.

“What isn’t?” you asked, perfectly aware of what he was talking about.

“Kissing strangers…” he answered shyly.

“Let’s not be strangers, then.” You said, playing with the wet curls at the back of his head. “I sure could make this a habit of mine…”

“Sounds good to me” he said, smirking, before pulling you in for another kiss.

[anuspastor]

New coat for peepaw :)

y'all deserve to see m brain's meltdown on the sides too

[timbit-robin-art]

I saw your Mio doodle and now I wonder about a Light Music Club X-Men Edition.. Scott can be on drums he'd be so good at keeping time... whatever Ororo is on (because she'd slay at every instrument) she has to ALSO be on vocals because I believe that's just canon..

maybe Logan can be their roadie

Ah, K-On. My one weakness. I went a little overboard when picturing this, so whoops.

I imagine this being in a universe where there’s still mutants, but Xavier isn’t making them use their powers to fight. Instead, the institute is for learning how to control their powers/providing refuge for mutants who have nowhere else to go, and they go to a mutant/normal human mixed private school for normal education.

Here’s some of my ideas for the club members so far:

Ororo is the bass player and lead vocalist. She’s been inspired to be in a band ever since she lived on the streets as a little kid, where she saw a bass player performing live. Freshmen year of high school, she hears someone absolutely going ham on the drums, and finds Scott playing on his own. It took a while, but she finally convinced Scott to join her. She’s the heart and soul of the group, and main character along with Scott. I don’t see her living at the institute, though Xavier keeps the offer open. Instead, she may live with a 19/20 year old Gambit, who’s living off of the Guild’s money and trying to lay low.

Scott is the drum player. After Xavier picked him off of the streets, he got a bit lost in the mansion and discovered a drum set in the music room (I imagine it used to belong to Erik/Magnus). Xavier sees that the boy has natural rhythm, and decides to find him a teacher. Scott forms a middle school band with the O5, but they had a falling out, causing everyone to go their separate ways. However, Scott is still very passionate about the drums, which is why he eventually joins Ororo. He may be more pessimistic, but his passion for the drums is more than enough to keep him going.

Kurt is the pianist. He’s a transfer student from Germany and has always wanted to be a part of a band like Ororo. It was him that suggested the idea of forming an actual club, and he’s the big idealist/optimist of the group. I can see him not knowing too much on how to play piano, minus the basics he learned from his mother (she taught him how to play despite his three fingers), so when he moves into the institute, Xavier teaches him how to play better. Even though there are some people at school who treat him just as bad as the mobs from his home, he’s still willing to get out there and play with the group.

Hank is the guitarist. He used to be a part of the same group as Scott, but after everyone split a part, he stopped playing entirely. I can see him being intrigued by the talk of a “light music club,” but after seeing Scott was there, he wants nothing to do with it. Eventually, he joins a practice session after Ororo gets through to him, and he realizes just how much he misses playing. Scott and him have the friends-turned-hostile-turned-back-into-friends relationship. Unlike the other three O5 members, his love for music trumps any hostile feelings after the falling out, and he’s willing to give it another go.

Ah, but you can’t have a club without a faculty member as your sponsor;

Mr. Logan was the only available candidate for this. After a lot of begging (and promises that they’d wash his motorcycle every weekend), they eventually get him on board. He pretends to hate it, but it slowly becomes obvious that he has a soft spot for the group. He sees the passion they all have, and it reminds him of when he was younger (hmm… what if Logan was the bass player Ororo saw when she was younger…).

Of course, if we follow K-On, we must have a 5th member that joins later on. I have no idea who that could be. I think there’s a lot of fun ideas depending on who.

[ane-doodles]

My COTL References

(you can use them as inspo if you want)

A little more:

Wow, I didn't think this would take so long, but I think it was worth it in the end.

I have had to look for all kinds of references to be able to draw the bishops in a satisfactory way (references from the game itself, from animals, body types, eyes, and even how to draw cat paws). I think I have done them justice.

Although I don't plan to draw a comic or write a fic, I did want to define my own reference when drawing them. That way my little doodles would have some coherence.

A couple of details from the designer (just me commenting):

• I had to look for references of many body types and choose the one I thought was most suitable for each character. It was a long road!! The most difficult to draw was Narinder.

• Heket's outfit is inspired by a dress I recently saw in a store, it looked like a tunic so I decided to use it as a model. I added the veil because I wanted to cover her head (it's difficult to draw), plus I think it gives her a distinctive touch and personality. She accidentally ended up looking like a very flirtatious nun.

• Kallamar's design was particularly difficult because in the game itself he doesn't have a torso! but for reasons of ease and patience here he is going to have one. It's funny that he's super tall, but he keeps hunching over trying to hear what others are saying (you know, he doesn't listen very well for obvious reasons).

• Leshy was my favorite design! He has all the characteristics that I usually give to a protagonist!! He ended up looking like a young boy who surely likes soccer. I drew him thinking that he would surely like to walk around, so he should be comfortable... but he will surely end up crashing on more than one occasion. The green looks so fluffy!!! ah! but I also gave him a sting (I thought it would be fun)

• Shamura was interesting. I didn't want to give it too many legs, but I also didn't want it to look strange. In the end I ended up taking inspiration from different insect characters I know (like the red guy from Adventure Time). His clothes are all torn, I think he would have a hard time adjusting to them and would end up destroying them very often.

• Although I have drawn Narinder before it is not easy without him looking like an anime boy with a cat head! so it took quite a while to try to get out of there, that's why his proportions look more animalistic now!! I like to think that his body was vaguely more human when he was a god, but that when he transforms into a mortal he becomes more animal-like. It was difficult to design his clothes, but I like the change of coat he has...I hope I don't change it again soon or I'll have to make him a wardrobe.

• I have no special notes about the lamb, except that I forgot to put the leg warmers!! I realized it too late, but let's imagine they are there. I liked designing the second fleece, obviously based on Narinder's.

• As you can see, each of the coats are made from the remains of the tunics that the bishops previously wore. I want to imagine that after they were defeated, the lamb recovered them and turned them into new garments so that they would feel more comfortable in the cult (but also so that they would be distinguished from the common people).

• I have planned jobs and positions that each one would occupy in the cult, but I don't know how close they are to canon since I haven't taken the time to research. We'll see!!

And that's it, if you made it this far, have a candy 🍬 , thanks for reading my ramblings.

[delusionalmultilingual]

Title cover by me, please ask for permission to use. Not the panel but the editing :)

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Todoroki's sick?

This is just a drabble for the moment but if I post this hooray you get to see what sort of lovesick lonely relationship I want.

ITS A COMPLETE SLOWBURN PLEASE DONT HATE ME

Contains: Vomit, Illness, Spoilers.

Todoroki gets sick? Thank god your there to help him you pitiful bastard.

Your in your last year of U.A, just after your exams he gets sick. Where did Shouto go?

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"Todoroki Shouto." The same monotone voice came from your tired teacher, had his eyebags dropped even more? His eyes had surely gotten more red. He looks stoned, you wish you could be too.

Zoning out for a second too long you feel a glare from your teacher who had probably said your name mote than three times by now, flicking his scarf to slide right past your ear, a whooshing sound which jolted you out of your zoned out state.

It was the same silence, the same silence that had gone on for the past three days. Time doesn't normally matter to you, the world moves either to quick or too slow so you do your own thing.

"Focus or I'll make you run laps."

You flinch and look directly at your teacher who had moved towards your desk, black eyes slowly emitting the gloomy red that scared you sometimes. Sitting up straighter then you had ever sat you gave him a small smile before nodding a small apology. Thank god he was tired or he might have probably killed you by now.

"Ah, [Your Name]. Is there something bothering you?" Uraraka asked beside you quietly as you all began writing. To which you turned to see her eyes locked with yours.

You respond with a quick 'hm' shaking your head trying not to worry your friend, shifting your focus back to your writing as you tried not to think about specific things.

'I wonder where Todoroki is...'

'Is he with his dad? Maybe his mum...'

You shake your head and pinch your arm to refocus feeling a hint of heat on the tips of your ears. Your eyes staring intensely at the word 'mixture'.

'Fuck, that's also like him.'

Rubbing your temples now, and running a hand behind the back of your neck and pressing down on the sore spot that had grown increasingly through the pressure of homework and assignments, Hero work too.

A low muttering came from Midoryia, he was back to his usual ways even while Mr Aizawa spoke in his colourless voice. And Ashido and Kaminari were whispering to each other trying to get some form of idea as to what to write.

If you were completely honest you didn't know what to write either, the work was something about Physical and Quirk development, which was a pain when you had learned majority of it in middle school.

Yet you didn't know what to write, even if you knew about what you were learning, you still didn't know what to write. Maybe it was the three assignments that you turned in earlier today, maybe you were just burnt out.

Aizawa's words were now muffled through your thoughts as you doodled over your pages of lined, neat work. They weren't the best but they were cute enough to stay in your book.

"But sir this is too difficult!" Mina and Denki whined in unison, snapping you out of your stage of drawing and listening into the bickering, Bakugou yelling at them from across the room.

"Shuddap. If you werent so stupid maybe you would understand!"

Aizawa sighed yet again, sleep deprived probably, maybe an insomniac. "Bakugou, get back to your own work."

After a miniature altercation between Aizawa and Bakugou, it ended with Bakugou going quiet and grumbling as he continued working and Aizawa scolding Mina and Denki.

Uraraka was giggling beside you, covering her smirk and lowering her head further than what it usually is and trying to compose herself. Her brown hair was definitely longer than what it was in your first year, down to her shoulders now.

She complained that it was getting too long and that she needed to cut it but she didn't have the money, so when Momo offered to pay she declined and said that her hair was fine the way it was.

Even if she was your friend she's a little too anxious about money, even if it was ten dollars. You knew it was because of her background but she's going to be paid a shit ton in the future, if she continued with her path of being a pro.

You ponder on the small parts that you were thinking of before. 'Three days.', was the main thought as you were distracted yet again, which ended with the sake old lecture about listening and paying attention by Aizawa.

***

"[Your Name!" Tsuyu and Mina ran after you, the entire of U.A walking the same paths as the rest of the years. It was your last year, last year of all of this. It sparks an anxious pain in your chest but at the same time motivation.

You turn to face your two friends and Mina practically jumps into your arms and nearly takes the both of you to the floor. And now your winded as Tsu drags Mina off you.

"Are you going to come to dinner tonight?" Tsu asks, her croaky voice comes from her, shorter than Mina and you but thankfully taller than that purple balled idiot. He hurt your neck often when he gave you creepy smiles and all his perverted stuff.

A shrug comes from your shoulders which ends with a pampering Mina begging you not to stay cooped up in your room for the rest of winter holidays. A short answer came from your lips and Tsu's tongue was sticking out as she smiled warmly.

"Probably not, I gotta get this resume in."

Tsu nodded and pulled at Mina's shirt and trying to usher her away as to not hold you back any longer. She might not have spoke many words but she's very expressive through her emotions.

Eventually she was picked off bit by bit, and the dormitory was around a minute away walking. You were tired, but now having to write up a resume that you were planning on doing a week earlier, didn't happen. The procrastination got to you before you even started.

So you began walking, thinking about how to start on your resume even though it was simple, obviously you had to start with your full name, address... 'Would it be the dorm number or just U.A?' The thought ran through your mind before getting thrown into the many other thoughts.

You gave a small wave to Sato who was watering some of the flowers that the class planted earlier this year. He waved back only a few seconds after you, and by then you were already at the steep of the stairs. Pushing the doors open to the smell of Bakugou's food.

Ignoring the smell you looked at the elevator before taking the stairs, you were only on the first floor anyway. It was a flight of stairs, the least you could do is not be lazy.

When you unlocked your door, the small 'rodent' so you claim it to be meowed and purred against your leg.

"Hey Asana, what'cha doing pretty?" You ran a hand along the curled soft hair of your cat, you weren't really supposed to have pets in the dorms but they didn't have to know about him.

Sure, Asana was a male cat with a girl's name, but he didn't know that. He can't understand English, sometimes that makes you suspicious of him. So you shut the door behind you, picking him up and smooching his head three times before he places a paw to your nose.

"You stink."

Asana responded with a long meow, of course. He wanted food, you place him on the ground and sort him out. Flopping onto your bed with a groan of relief when the softness of the cushion collides with your back.

In less than a second, the little rodent you loved so much had jumped on you and was making biscuits on your chest, putting all his weight on his front paws, making you wheeze in pain, how could a cat be so heavy?

He purred loudly and soon after fell asleep on you, which left you scrolling on your phone and typing up this resume that you definitely needed to do before you left school. And of course it would probably take three seconds to finish, but you had sooooo many other things to do. One of them was steal Bakugou's recipe cause damn his cooking is amazing, he would mind so you would have to do it in secret.

Did he even have a recipe to follow? It would surprise you if you didn't, maybe Sato could help. Bakugou never seemed to mind him helping with cooking, he'd prefer him cleaning or doing something else. But only a grumble would be his response.

Thinking over your plan you knew it wouldn't help, you were already on social media and Mina had posted a class photo, Sato was there as well. Damn, he probably ran so he wasn't late.

It was already dark, maybe you could order in. You didn't have much energy to cook anyway, Bakugou definitely wouldn't waste his precious time cooking for you anyway, you were 'a pain in the ass'.

'Ah, I forgot about Todoroki.'

The thought that crossed through your mind from earlier today had reached you again, Midoryia said that he wasn't out with family. Iida said that he had probably become ill, with his continuous efforts at school.

"Asana, should I message him?" You ask your cat, he wasn't going to respond. Either a meow or his ears twitching would be the response.

He was dead asleep. On your chest, curled ears twitching when you sighed deeply and looked at the name on your screen, 'Shouto'. He had a small emoji next to his name, thanks to your creativity of putting what their quirks were as emoji's.

After a long groan and thinking you fumble around messaging him quickly.

'Hey Todoroki, I was wondering how you are doing since you haven't been at school.'

Sent.

Fuck.

Squeezing Asana'a pretty white fur he responded back with a low purr. Three minutes go by, feels like forever and the embarrassment of messaging someone you don't usually message. Ah, this is shit.

Your phone lights up, the notification carxges your eye.

Shouto 🧊🔥

'I'm unwell.'

Dry text. As usual, it didn't bother you as much as it used to, he's gotten better since first year.

'Would you like me to get you something?'

You message back immediately, the heat rushing to your face.

Shouto🧊🔥

'Porridge and Orange juice?'

Was all he replied before you sat up, Asana jumping off and getting comfy on your bed, maybe you should change. Sweats and a singlet? Yep.

Grey pants and a black singlet was what you wore, bringing up a hot bowl of porridge and a carton of Orange juice that was in the fridge, wasn't yours but you'll buy another one for whoever complains.

He was on the fifth floor, wasn't a preference, you would complain if you had to go up five floors.

You reach his room that was labelled with his name, Todoroki. And you knock on the door, it was dead quiet. Usually you would be able to hear Jiro playing her instruments but she was gone as well.

The door clicks open and you see Todoroki, taller than you. His hair a mess and both of his hair colours mixing with eachother, he has showered. But he looks like a mess.

"Can I come in?"

You ask quietly and he covers his cough with his elbow, nodding and turning around so you can go inside his dorm. Very traditional, you saw it a few times while studying with Sero. He cleans regularly, but it's gotten messy since he's been sick.

There was a bucket next to his bed, has he been really sick? Maybe Gastro.

"Sit back down I don't wanna make you run around or something." You usher him back to his futon, you have the kindest expression on and aren't trying to push him around too much.

The room has a hint of sickness in it too, maybe you would get sick too. Oh well.

He sits down with his legs crossed and looks up at you, his face puffy and his hair still a mess, he looks like his gaze is a blur and you gently give him the porridge.

"Have you been eating?"

This is awkward, first you had to message him and now your stuck in his room, with him when he is sick. Your eyes wander and he eats the porridge slowly, blowing on the spoon a few times and switching off his phone. He nods to your question, responding back in a sick and croaked speech.

"Mhm, not much."

Your breath tightened, his voice was usually deepish and monotone but when he's sick. Jesus, gonna take the life outta you.

In less than a second that all changes when he leaps towards the plastic bucket beside his futon and gags profusely, throwing up the porridge he had eaten mere seconds earlier, his stomach trying to throw up on an empty stomach now.

You quickly make your way towards him and kneel down beside him, he puts a hand out to stop you but you move his hair out of the way. It had gotten longer throughout the years but your pretty sure he's been missing his hair appointments.

"Come on Todoroki! Why didn't you let us know." Grumbling beside his ear, he wipes his mouth before sitting back up again, washing his mouth out with the cup of water beside the bucket and spitting it into the bucket.

He goes to stand up, but you keep him sat down, giving him the carton of orange juice that you had brought earlier, were you holding that while keeping his hair out of the way?

"What are you doing?" He asks in the same groggy probably drugged up voice while watching you pick up the vomit filled bucket and taking it to the toilet in his room.

You look back at him, pushing the toilet seat up and pouring the foul substance into the toilet. Flushing it before closing the lid. "You need to rest. Your not getting up unless I'm gone."

Strong tone and using the shower head in the bathroom to rinse the bucket, you turn your head to see if he agrees.

"It's only a stomach bug."

"A stomach bug that makes you look like your about to die."

"Every illness makes you look like that."

"Your not getting up unless you need to go to the toilet. Your quirk is going to drain your energy so don't use that either."

He sighs, not wanting to argue and knowing you were kind of right, he hated to admit it but he actually liked that you cared for him like that. He had gotten used to looking out for himself but when his friends and classmates helped him he realised he also had to look out for others.

"Fine."

He couldn't help it however. He wasn't that sick, right?

You sit down beside him on his futon and look at the half eaten bowl of porridge, he was drinking the juice in hand and staring at you with those oh so beautiful eyes. But it's when he leans over and rests his head on your shoulder that makes you freeze.

"Thanks."

Was all he spoke before closing his eyes and breathing in your scent, you were confused as to why he had done so. Maybe he liked you? Is he clingy when he's sick?

You chuckle and pat his back, he was already relaxed into you but your physical touch made him melt, his body weight becoming evident on your body. So you use majority of your strength to keep sitting up, while adjusting to his weight.

His eyes were closed against you and his breathing became quieter and quieter until you almost could mistake him for being dead. It was soon you realised you were both breathing at the same pace. Did that always happen when two were so close?

Spotting a damp rag on the floor, you pick it up to feel if it is still cold, it wasn't. You couldn't move yet because he was practically attached to you. Jolting when you moved even an inch, so now you were laying down beside him on the single futon. His head against your arm and his arm along your waist.

This wasn't like him, for sure. Was he mistaking you for someone else? Your hoping he's not, cause whoever he would be thinking about like this. Wasn't you.

"It's cold." He speaks quietly, it's only then that you realise the chill in the air. It was already night? But the sun was up, you checked your phone that was sat in your pocket. Your eyes widen at the time. Two hours?!

Two hours had gone by and you could have finished this resume. You couldn't have wished for anything better, or worse? Todoroki Shouto was asleep on you, but you needed to finish this resume.

"Todoroki-"

"Shouto."

"Uh- Alright then. Shouto, I have to get this resume done."

He grumbled and geld onto you tighter, looking up at you, oh lord, he was adorable. Looking up at you with his opposite coloured eyes and pouting ever so slightly.

"Just do it in here."

"Ok then."

Why would you want to argue with him like that? You felt a sense of pity because he was sick, but also because he actually wanted you to stay with him? Your living a dream that you so desperately don't want to end. Maybe if he was well this would send you head over heels.

***

"Hey Todoroki! Where's [Your Name]?" Mina asks with her usual bubbly attitude, staring up at the taller boy with her 'raccoon eyes' as others have said.

Todoroki looks up from the book he was writing in, locking eyes with Mina, Asui was standing next to her with her frog-like tongue sticking out as he responded, scratching the side of his neck.

"She's not feeling well."

"What?!" Mina exclaims, her hands coming to the top of her pink curls quickly as she looked shocked. "She didn't even go anywhere! How did she get sick?"

"She came to visit me when I was sick." He replied back in a monotone speech and got back to writing whatever was on the board. Not knowing how excited Mina looked when she turned to Asui and giggled running off.

'Did I say something wrong?'

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This story is officially FINSIHED! I know I definitely lost some sort of motivation towards the end, I hate slowburns but I do say so myself. This is alright.

Proofread!

Thank you for all the support I have been getting! d=(^o^)=b

[cuubism]

Computation

part 7 of Complex Mathematics

(aka Dream vs Technology -- Technology: 1, Dream: 0)

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

Wednesday, 3:54am

Hob. what is the wifi password?

3:56am: why are you texting me when I’m in the same house?

3:57am: I did not want to wake you up.

4:00am: ……….

4:01am: Ah.

4:03am: it’s 12345. which is terrible security by the way

4:04am: how do i know this and you don’t? we’re in YOUR flat

4:05am: Computers are your friends, not mine.

4:10am: It does not like the password.

4:12am: alright i’m getting up

Dream creeps back into the living room, holding a cup of tea, as Hob’s tinkering with the router. Turns out it needed to be completely reset before he could reconnect it to Dream’s laptop. Not that this is that hard, but for some reason Hob doesn’t understand, technology is simply out of Dream’s grasp. Head in the clouds, too smart for basic computer skills, etc etc.

“A peace offering,” Dream says, placing the tea on the coffee table. He perches on the couch beside where Hob’s leaning over the router on its spot on the bookshelf.

“I’m not mad at you,” Hob says. He pats the router as its indicator lights finally turn green again. “I will take tea, though.”

“I woke you,” Dream says softly.

“You’ve woken me before, you will again,” Hob says with equanimity. Their sleep schedules are out of alignment, it tends to happen.

It’s the wrong thing to say, though. Dream cringes, hands folding in his lap. “I should be able to handle such things.”

“It’s just the wifi.” Hob finally finishes reconnecting Dream’s laptop and turns properly towards him. Dream still looks guilty about it. Sometimes Hob misses the time before they were dating, when Dream would bristle at him instead of caving. Just because he doesn’t like seeing Dream feel bad.

He takes the cup of tea and places it in Dream’s hands instead, briefly wrapping their hands around each other. “It’s okay,” he repeats. Possibly they should have a longer conversation about it, but Hob’s not emotionally awake enough for it.

Instead, he gets up and heads for the kitchen to put on some coffee. He needs something with more caffeine in it than tea.

“What are you doing?” Dream asks.

“Might as well get something done while my brain is online,” Hob says. He goes to fetch his own laptop from Dream’s bedroom. Lord knows it’ll need to get reconnected to the glitchy wifi again, anyway.

~~

Friday, 2:05pm

Hob.

2:06pm: ?

2:07pm: The wifi is angry again.

2:09pm: did you antagonize it?

2:09pm: hang on did you just wake up now?

2:10pm: I cannot comment.

2:12pm: I assume you have been hard at work in the library since six.

2:14pm: more like hardly working in the library. i did make an app that gives you a gold star every time you do the laundry

2:16pm: Will that assist in your routines?

2:17pm: probably not but it’ll be fun for 5 minutes

2:17pm: wifi password’s still 12345

2:18pm: maybe I should make an app for that instead…

2:20pm: I do not think it would help.

2:30pm: …You are not trying to make said app, are you?

2:34pm: nope just realized I’m late for a class and had to scramble out of there. I’ll be back later can do couples counseling for you and wifi then?

2:35pm: Very well.

For a while after putting down his phone, Dream stares at the wifi router in vexation, as if that will possibly make the angry red lights turn green again. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. He knows even less what to do to fix it.

He needs the wifi operational to keep generating these fractals. He supposes he could go to the library and use university wifi, but that requires going out in public, which is preferably avoided, at least while he’s trying to work. So he will have to do something else until Hob gets back from class.

He recalls what Hob had said. That instead of working on his dissertation he had made an entire phone app about laundry. He had said it so casually, like it was a doodle to pass the time. Dream can use apps—barely—but he cannot begin to fathom how he would go about making one. Hob does not understand how even in his procrastination he is exceptional.

Well. This is something that Dream can do. Hob hates doing laundry—hence the app-based reward system—but Dream doesn’t mind. He finds it meditative. He will have to be more precise about fabric care instructions now, as while his own clothes rarely range beyond grey, black, and dark blue, Hob actually wears colors which might bleed into each other.

He puts on his headphones with some music, gathers up the laundry from the bedroom, and goes about his routine.

When Hob gets back, Dream has finished hanging the laundry to dry and returned to his contemplation of the router, this time still with his headphones playing. He’s lost in thought, and doesn’t notice Hob’s come in until his hand lands on Dream’s shoulder. Normally a sudden touch when he’s thinking would make him jump, but he’s become used to Hob.

“Trying to solve your marital problems through telepathy?” Hob asks.

“We were never married,” Dream says. “Indeed we are enemies.”

Hob laughs. He kisses Dream on the cheek, then kneels in front of the router. “You have to stop tormenting my boyfriend,” he tells it. It only blinks back at him innocently.

Hob can be very silly at times. “I do not think arguing with the inanimate object will help,” Dream says.

“You never know.” Hob takes the router down and sets about unplugging all the cables. Dream still doesn’t know what any of them precisely do, nor how wifi works. It may as well be magic.  

Hob has it fixed within minutes, of course. Far more effective than Dream’s intense staring. He gets Dream’s laptop reconnected, and Dream is finally able to start generating his fractal. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anything for my love,” says Hob, getting to his feet again. “Guessing you want some time to yourself now to work on this?”

“Yes,” says Dream, with some guilt. Hob has come home to help him only for him to immediately bury himself in his work again. But yes, he does want to make progress on this at last.

“Well, good,” says Hob, and Dream turns to him in surprise. “Because I’m due for a nap.”

Dream still hasn’t formulated a response to this by the time Hob’s disappeared into his bedroom. Strange, that their routines can be so opposite and still meld together so well.

Hob pokes his head back out into the hall. “Did you do the laundry?”

“Yes,” says Dream.

“I could kiss you,” Hob declares, then blows one to him before disappearing back into the bedroom.

Dream presses his hand to his cheek, as if to touch a kiss that had really landed there. Smiles to himself. Then goes back to his fractal.

~~

Monday, 5:02pm

Hob.

5:03pm: Wifi?

5:04pm: …Yes.

Thursday, 9:50pm

…..Hob.

9:50pm: I’m sitting right next to you.

9:51pm: ….

9:51pm: I’m just gonna get you a new router. This thing’s got problems.

9:52pm: I think it is I who has the problems.

9:52pm: That too.

Saturday, 6:00pm

Hob.

6:00pm: Is it broken AGAIN??

6:01pm: No. I got dinner.

6:02pm: Oh!

6:02pm: Fuck I’m starving.

6:03pm: Coming back from class now.

6:03pm: Don’t touch the router it’s in a fragile mental state.

6:04pm: Aren’t we all.

~~

Thursday, 3:50pm

This time, it is the wifi in Hob’s flat that is stymieing Dream. He does not think it is broken. Hob has merely changed the password, as he’s much more diligent about internet security than Dream, and then forgotten to tell Dream what it is. Or, more likely, correctly assumed Dream would have to ask him again anyway.

He briefly contemplates trying to deduce the password, but it is likely an incomprehensible string of characters that Hob would claim is ideal security precisely because of the impossibility of deducing it.

He refuses to text Hob about it again. Hob has a class to teach soon—Dream has his schedule memorized—Dream does not want to distract him. Though speaking of…

3:50pm: You have a class in ten minutes.

3:51pm: FUCK

3:51pm: I got distracted

3:53pm: Now… running

3:54pm: You are not near the building, are you.

3:55pm: NOPE

Dream smiles to himself, thinking of Hob sprinting across campus. It happens often. Hob is good at many things, but time management is not one of them. This is why Dream knows his schedule.

He does feel… a bit silly, though. He should be better at this, should he not? Less bothersome to Hob over small things that he should be able to handle.

Normally he would go back to his work to distract himself from these thoughts, but he still can’t work on his fractals without being able to connect remotely to the university computers, which are more powerful than his own. This is something Hob had also set up for him, because Dream had not been able to make any sense of the instructions he had been given for remote login, and the like.

Sighing, he instead takes his sketchbook out of his bag. It’s been a while since he’s made any time for drawing. But he had started looking at fractals in the first place to better understand patterns in art, to understand resonances between what occurred in nature and what was projected by mathematics. And drawing used to soothe him.

So he starts drawing, sketching the fractal he has been generating—to the extant that he can with the imprecise instrument of his pen. Even in infinite impossible digital form, the branching spirals eventually become too small for him to see, though he knows they continue on in perfect replication forever, smaller and smaller until they disappear into atoms. He cannot recreate that level of detail by hand. But he tries.

By the time he gets another text back from Hob, an hour later, he’s moved to the floor to have more space. He’s found a bigger piece of scrap paper and is drawing the fractal again, in more detail this time, color-coding the different shapes, free-handing where he should probably use a ruler for more precision. He has achieved several more levels of replication than before, but it is still not right. He can’t get it right. If he could only use the stupid computer system he could get it right.

Finally he looks at his phone, several minutes after the text alert pinged.

Thanks love 😘

Unexpectedly, it makes him tear up. Always this happens to him. He does not realize how frustrated he has become with himself until it is too late.

Of course, to only make matters worse, he is still sitting hunched on the floor, pen clasped tight in his hand, teeth clenched so hard it’s hurting his jaw, when Hob comes through the door. He must have texted not far from home.

“Hey, love,” Hob’s already saying as he comes through the door, “meant to stop and grab dinner but I totally forgot— I’m sure I have something here, though— Dream?”

Dream hasn’t moved from the floor, or responded. Hob puts down his bag and comes over to him. He looks down at the fractal, which is still incomplete. “Did you draw that?”

“Obviously,” Dream bites. The pen is still in his hand. He drops it, scraping a hand through his hair. Great. Now he’s snapping at Hob, too.

Hob sits down on the floor beside him. He studies the fractal. Then points to one of the shapes that Dream’s colored in red. “That’s supposed to be purple.”

Dream stares at the fractal. Hob is right, it is meant to be purple. According to the way Dream had color-coded it digitally. He looks at Hob. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve watched you fiddling with it enough. We set it up on your laptop, remember?”

Yes. Dream remembers. He remembers how Hob had helped him.

“Wifi giving you troubles again?” Hob asks, looking from the drawing, to Dream’s laptop, which is sleeping on the couch.

Dream nods, then saws quietly, “Are you not… frustrated with me? Annoyed?”

Hob doesn’t need to ask what he means. “Sometimes,” he says, and Dream can’t help his flinch. “So?”

“So?”

Hob shrugs. “I would have missed that class if you didn’t text me.”

Dream does not understand the relevance.

Hob looks up at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge. “Aren’t you annoyed with me?”

Perhaps he is, at times. Recently, Dream has been too absorbed in his project to feel much about it at all.

“I don’t know,” he says. “It is just how you are.”

Hob seems to think that Dream still doesn’t understand the point he’s making, and perhaps Dream doesn’t. Hob takes his hand. “Look. I’ve no idea why someone as smart as you are is constantly defeated by basic technology, but it doesn’t matter. Always having to be the one to fix the router is a small price to pay for having you in my life.”

Dream’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He… he does not know if anyone has ever put up with him with so little complaint. For truly, it is not only computer troubles. It is all the small things that stack upon each other to make him feel different and difficult.

“I find I do not like…” Dream admits tentatively, “when you must do these things. That I should be able to do.”

“You did the laundry the other day,” Hob says.

Why must he jump topics in this manner? “I do not understand.”

“Well, we don’t actually live together, you know. You have your own laundry. You don’t have to do mine, too.”

“I thought it would help you,” Dream says.

Hob just waits expectantly.

Dream looks down at his lap. “Ah. I… see.” Hob finds him frustrating at times, he had said so, but still wants to help him. He finds Hob’s admittance that Dream is frustrating to be a relief, in its way. He would only feel more on edge if Hob pretended otherwise, surely to snap later when Dream was least expecting it, as so many have done.

“Give me your arm,” Hob says then.

When Dream does, Hob pushes up his sleeve, takes one of the markers from the floor and writes on Dream’s forearm, the wifi password is I love you.

“There,” he says. “Now you won’t forget.”

Dream touches the words with a light fingertip. “This is not good internet security.”

“Oh, so you do listen my ramblings,” Hob says, laughing. Always, Dream thinks. “What, you’re going to throw out my valentine because I cut the heart out a little wonky?”

He makes as if to rub the marker off, and Dream pulls his arm protectively to his chest. Hob’s smile softens. He carefully pulls Dream forward into a hug, Dream’s arm pressed between them. Dream tucks his face into the crook of Hob’s neck. It’s one of his favorite places to hide.

“I’ll help you fix your program after we find some dinner,” Hob tells him, rubbing his back.

“I think I should give up on using computers,” Dream mumbles.

Hob chuckles. “See how you feel about it after I make you some brownies for dessert.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the thought, and Hob kisses the side of his head. And Dream touches, again, the words Hob’s written on his arm, where it’s pressed between them. And allows himself to smile.

Wednesday, 6:03pm

Dream is attempting to cook dinner. Hob doesn’t think it’s going so well. At least not if the blaring fire alarm, which Hob’s just silenced by waving a dish towel at it until the smoke dissipated, is any indication. But it does mean he’s been treated to the sight of Dream with his sleeves rolled up, delicate hands at work—and wearing an actual apron.

Having soothed the alarm, he leans against the counter so he can shamelessly ogle instead of helping.

“What are you even trying to make?” he asks, eyeing the still-smoking oven.

Dream pouts. “Only bread. It should not be so hard.”

“You didn’t wait for me to get home to watch?” He imagines the sight of Dream aggressively kneading the bread dough. It shouldn’t be a turn on, but it kind of is.

“You would make a spectacle of my misery?” Dream says, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, like he knows exactly what Hob is thinking about.

“Definitely,” Hob says, and Dream sighs, but turns to take the attempt at bread out of the oven. It’s… pretty blackened, to be honest. “Butter’ll save it, I’m sure!” Hob says cheerfully.

“Nothing will save it,” says Dream, morosely. He pulls off his oven mitt in apparent disgrace, and— Hob catches his arm.

“How has this not faded yet?”

For Hob’s writing saying the wifi password is I love you is still on his forearm.

Dream looks sheepish. “I got it tattooed.”

Hob tilts his head at him, confused. “So you could remember the wifi password?”

“So that I could remember this.” He traces his finger over, I love you.

Hob feels a blush creep across his cheeks. But it’s a pleasant feeling. “This is not even my best handwriting.”

“I know,” says Dream. He does not seem unhappy about it.

Hob takes his arm, touches the words, too. “You could have just gotten this part done.”

“I think,” Dream says slowly, touching the part that says, the wifi password is, “that this is another form of the same.”

And Hob… finds himself tearing up a little. Because it’s true. It’s so silly that Dream, certifiable maths genius, struggles so much with basic computer skills. But Hob will do any silly thing for him, because he loves him.

“Yeah,” he says, taking a shaky breath. “It is.”

“Unfortunately, you can never change the wifi password now,” says Dream, and Hob laughs wetly.

“I really can’t, can I? Terrible security. The things I’ll do for you, darling.”

“Would that include making proper bread?” Dream asks, and Hob nods, patting his arm.

“We’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

Now he’s wondering how he didn’t notice Dream getting a tattoo. Though to be fair, they haven’t seen each other as much in the past two weeks as they usually would, thanks to very inconvenient scheduling. Apparently Dream’s taken advantage of that time to do this.

“Can’t let you out of my sight for a second,” he says, as he fetches a new bread pan from the cupboard. “God knows what you’ll come back with next.”

“Be careful or I will consider that a challenge,” Dream says, and Hob pauses as way too many images flash through his mind. He shakes them off. He’ll never be able to focus on anything like that.

And Dream, the bastard, is smirking.

“Watch that look on your face or you might find that flour you’re holding dumped over your head,” Hob warns, but Dream only looks victorious, and utterly uncaring of the bag of flour he's precariously picked up.

“How will you ogle me kneading the dough that way?”

Hob swipes a dish towel from the counter and throws it at him. Dream yelps and spills the flour, which poofs up in a cloud of white landing all over his black t-shirt.

“Hob,” he complains.

“Serves you right, you dickhead,” Hob says. It only returns the smirk to Dream’s face.

“If you feel that way perhaps I’ll decide I don’t need your supervision,” he says archly.

Hob tears a piece off of Dream’s first attempt at a loaf. Or rather, breaks off a piece, which is hard as stone. He shows it to him as evidence.

Dream snatches it and shoves it into his mouth. Bites down with a crunch so horrifying Hob’s afraid he’s broken a tooth. But Dream persists, chewing it painstakingly and then swallowing, as if by force.

“Taste good?” Hob asks.

“Yes—” Dream starts to insist—then dissolves into a fit of coughing that swiftly turns into giggles. Hob loves it so much when he laughs like that. It’s so rare.

Hob laughs with him. Then frees the crumpled bag of flour from Dream’s grasp and sets it aside, brushes the flour and crumbs from his shirt. Then he takes Dream’s arm and runs his fingertip over the words again, still in awe.

He again finds himself having to clear his throat to avoid tearing up. But he manages, and says, “Let’s get you some proper, not burnt bread, yeah?”

“Please,” says Dream, a tad sheepish. “I am… very hungry.”

Hob kisses his cheek, then goes about solving that problem, too.

[ch3rriewine]

Photo Booth Kissin' {P.P.}

summary: Peter's an awkward loverboy, but he's your awkard loverboy.

warnings: none i think just fluff :3, TASM!Peter Parker x reader hehe, no use of y/n, reader is kinda like super girly w the bows and sparkles idk

a/n: I HAVENT WRITTEN IN MONTHS SORRY here tho!

Peter’s life was boring—peaceful, but boring. Don’t get him wrong; being Spiderman is cool and all, but Peter Parker’s life could use some work. The most exciting thing that has happened to him recently was the time he got two yolks in one egg. Riveting stuff, right?

During another one of his literature classes that he doesn’t know why he took, he spots you. With a bow in your hair and a knit sweater falling over your figure, your head propped on your manicured hand while scribbling notes with the other. You sit in front of him and if Peter squints, he can see the small doodles littering the pages. Before he knows it, the professor announces that the lecture is done for the day. Peter panics; he wants to talk to you before you disappear and turn out to be a dream, but what would he even say? Doesn’t matter anymore since he chases after you to the door.

“Hey,” he says, looking a tad flushed after tripping over someone's water bottle.

“Oh, hi” you respond, your eyes a little widened at the sudden interaction.

“I, uh, I’m Peter” he say, sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take it and tell him your name. He repeats it in his head about a hundred times.

“I just, uhm, wanted to ask about…” he trails off, trying to remember if there were any assignments given. “The essay he said we had to do, yeah. When is it due again?” he hopes to any higher being that there was an essay due soon.

“Ah, yeah, it’s due next Monday” you reply, giving him a tight-lipped smile, ready to go back to your dorm.

“Cool, uhm, thanks! See you around, hopefully” with that, he bolts, leaving you confused and flushed. Hopefully

The cute boy in your class wants to see you around.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Two days later, Peter sees you again. It’s in the same class, and you’re as pretty as ever. He psyches himself up to sit next to you.

You look up from your laptop when he asks you if he can sit next to you. You nod, of course, and smile. He looks nervous, with fingers tapping on the table and cheeks a little red. It’s cute.

“Have you started on that essay?” you ask, trying to start conversation since it looks like he won’t.

“Huh? What essay? We have an essay?” he turns to face you, eyes wide.

“Yeah, the one you asked me about?” you laugh a little.

“Oh, no, I didn’t” his shoulders slump back down, and you smile at him.

“I didn’t either; I had other work to finish” he stares at you a little; it’s flattering, really. How shy he is around you. He barely knows you, but he’s convinced himself that you’re the greatest thing ever. He also may have looked up your instagram and fallen even harder as he looked at all your posts. Peter now knows what you ate at Thanksgiving 3 years ago.

“Same, I’m in STEM so you could imagine” he says, resting his head onto the table. Sleep deprivation a thing he is well acquainted with, unfortunately.

“STEM, wow, you must be smart then. Why’re you taking a classic lit class then?” Sure, you might’ve slipped in a compliment; it's not a crime to flirt a little. It takes Peter a few seconds to respond as he processes what you said, you think he’s smart.

“Uh, I was going through a phase with classic lit at the time, and I’ve been lazy to drop it. And, uh, I’m not that smart—pretty average actually. Like the most moderate person ever” He’s rambling and kind of lying. He’s doing really well in his other classes.

“Yeah? I think you’re pretty smart if you’re in STEM. Not everyday a guy is both pretty and smart.” His cheeks turn even redder, if possible, and he makes a sort of out of breath sound. “If you need any help with this class, I’d be happy to give you my notes on the book”

Jesus, you’re gonna kill the poor boy.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

From then on, you sit beside him and throw in some flirty comments while he struggles to reciprocate. It feels too good to be true, how you seem interested in him and how you eagerly talk to him after lectures, even giving hm your number to talk about “class”. He’s waiting for the day you ghost him.

“Hey, would you maybe want to, like, hang out? Like on a date or something? Or just as friends! Actually, yeah, just hang out as friends; forget I said date sorry,“ he flounders, waiting for the rejection. Oh God, he’s just messed up the whole friendship and you’re gonna think that he’s weird and a creep and-

“I’d love to go on a date, Peter,” you smile “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Oh, great, is Saturday at 3 okay? I’ll meet you outside your building and we could walk to that arcade?” He asks, eyes hopeful.

“Saturday at 3 is great. I love arcades, but you have to help me with the claw machines” For someone so smart and handsome, he doesn’t let himself think people like him.

“See you Saturday, Peter” you tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving sticky residue from your sparkly gloss and walk to your next class. He stands in place, a little starstruck and a lot flustered. He leaves the lipgloss there.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Saturday finally comes, and now it’s your turn to be nervous. You’ve switched outfits countless times, your hair is out of place, and your makeup doesn’t seem to flatter you. You’ve settled on a pretty blue dress with tights to protect you from the small chill. Two little bows clipped into your hair and knit cardigan falling over your shoulders—makeup finally looking presentable enough with maybe a little too much glitter on your eyes, but whatever. Your phone chimes as you’re applying pink sparkly gloss, and your heart skips a beat. He’s here.

You throw your phone and lip gloss in your purse and bolt out the door. You spot him outside your building, as promised. He looks wonderful. Brown sweater and worn-in denim jeans—you can’t believe he’s so shy around you when he looks like that. He finally spots you, and wow, he thinks.

“Hey," he scolds himself for being so casual when he should be whisking you away to Italy, or something. He could’ve at least gotten you flowers.

“Hi, you look great,” you say in front of him, and seeing you up close is making him fall even harder, if possible.

“You look, wow, you’re just, wow” he can’t even believe you’re into him.

“Cmon, I wanna win some plushies,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him along. He grips your hand harder and laces your fingers.

The walk is calm and the air is starting to get cool. You talk about class and a show you started. Peter listens intently, making mental notes about what you like and don’t like. Your hands stay intwined, and his thumb traces patterns on the back of your hand. He’s gotten more comfortable and less panicky in your presence, so you get to see his personality shine through. He’s incredibly funny. You can’t stop laughing on your way there, and he can’t stop thinking of more things to make you laugh.

The arcade is dark, with flashing lights from every game. Peter goes to buy some tokens, refusing your offer to pay half. Grabbing Peter’s hand and making a beeline for the claw machines, everyone knows they’re rigged, but you don’t care. You eagerly take the tokens and attempt to win the Kuromi plushie. After the 5th? 6th attempt? When the claw has dropped the plushie, you give up.

“Why do they do this to people! It’s false hope!” you whine to Peter as he laughs at your pout.

“Lemme try,” he nudges you over and puts in a token.

You watch with eyebrows furrowed as he wins it on his first attempt.

“What the hell, Peter?” you crouch to pull the plushie from the machine.

“What? Do you not like it?” He faces you, examining the stuffed, is she a rabbit? What animal even is Kuromi?

“I love her; just, how did you win it?” You look up at him incredulously. He must have some weird power that makes him win every claw machine.

“Oh, I don’t know; just position it right?” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in the process. You want to smooth them out with your fingers.

“Thank you!” you’re genuinely really excited over a cheap stuffed toy, not because you really wanted it, but because Peter won it for you. You wrap your arms around his neck in thanks. Peter freezes. He fees like a teenager at how he’s reacting to a hug of all things. He snaps back and hugs you back. You pull away to kiss his cheek. This is the second time you’ve kissed his cheek, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to it.

“Lets go play games, pretty boy,” pulling away and leaving Peter to gather his brain and follow along.

You watch as he plays Pac-Man; its silly, but you love his face when he’s focused. Brows furrowed and lips in a thin line. He really is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And he’s infatuated with you! Of all people! You swear half the girls in the class have a crush on him, but he gets nervous around you. You play some air-hockey, which you won (he let you win), and he won you some more plushies and some candy at the infamous claw machines.

When the games get old, the two of you leave the building. The sun is setting at this point, and you’re dreading leaving him.

“Oh, look! There’s a photo booth!” you point, excitedly tugging on his arm. “We should take some pictures.” you drag him into the booth, both of your thighs squished together and his legs at an awkward angle. He feeds the machine a few bucks, and the screen starts to count down.

You put on a sickly sweet smile, scrunching your eyes while Peter smiles big with pearly white teeth on display. The second photo you lean into Peter and he wraps his arm around you, pulling your body close to his. The third photo, you go for it. You grab his face and kiss him. His hands stay in the air as the glitter on your lips transfers to his. You taste like vanilla. You pull away, a little anxious that he didn’t want it. Those thoughts get pushed away when he grabs the sides of your face and kisses you until you can’t think. His hands are warm and big covering your cheeks as his lips move against yours. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck once more and deepen the kiss. Your lips move together in tandem as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs, the movement comforting.

The fourth photo is blurry, and you walk out with all your lipgloss on Peter’s lips.

[totheblood]

begging for rain. (three)

󠁐# THREE; the harder that it takes to undo

PAIRING: ex!ellie williams x nextdoorneighbor!reader

SUMMARY: moving to a new town can be tough, especially as you are trying to hold everything in your life together. after you meet ellie, your life completely changes, but for the better? well that's still up in the air

WARNINGS: mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x,

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

A/N : ok this was the longest chapter i've written to date so... please enjoy.... ONE AI AUDIOS IN THE FIC ! please please please like and reblog/reply/send asks, comments, the whole nine yards… it is so appreciated!

TWO YEARS AGO

It felt weird to be in Ellie’s house.

Ellie opened the door to a cozy living room with warm beige walls and wicker furniture that had been well-worn by time. An old acoustic guitar leaned against one wall and a record player sat atop an end table, surrounded by piles of vintage vinyl. The air was thick with the aroma of coffee and old books, creating a comforting ambiance. Family photos and posters dotted the walls, giving an insight into Ellie's life that made you feel like a intruder but also made you want to know more. 

"Nice place," you said, removing your shoes at the door.

"Thanks," Ellie smiled, leading you to the living room. "You can drop your stuff there. We'll study at the table."

You took a seat at the sturdy oak dining table and ran your fingers over its smooth surface before settling into it. Scattered papers littered the table, some lined with handwritten lyrics, others with doodles intertwined in colored ink. You opened up your English books and laid out your homework, feeling a sense of warmth emanating from the room. The aged furniture added an air of familiarity, like you were being invited into Ellie's private world. Ellie seemed to be working on physics homework, while you had an English essay on Shakespeare to tackle. The juxtaposition wasn't lost on you—Ellie with equations and you with Elizabethan English.

You both settled into your work, the atmosphere tinged with concentration. Occasionally, your eyes would drift towards Ellie, watching her brows furrow in thought or her lips move silently as she read through her notes. Each time, you'd catch yourself and refocus on your own work.

"So, how are you finding the essay?" she finally broke the silence.

"It's... okay, I guess. Mrs. Porter has a way of making Shakespeare sound like rocket science."

Ellie chuckled. "Ah, the age-old struggle. To be or not to be confused, that is the question."

You laughed, and for a moment, the tension of the day seemed to lift. "You're not so bad at this, you know," you said. "Maybe you should consider a career in stand-up."

"And give up my dream of becoming a rockstar physicist?" she feigned surprise. "Never."

You smiled at her enthusiasm. "A rockstar physicist, huh? That's a first."

"Well, what about you? Any grand plans?"

You hesitated, thinking about your dad for a moment. You blinked, looking down at the book in front of you before looking back up at Ellie.  "I'm not sure. I used to think I had it all figured out, but now... everything's so uncertain."

Ellie put down her pen and looked at you, her green eyes softening. "Uncertainty isn't always bad, you know. Sometimes it's just room for something new, something better."

You looked at her, really looked at her, and felt something shift inside you. "That's pretty wise for a 17-year-old."

She blushed a little, turning her attention back to her notebook. "Well, don't spread it around. I have a reputation to maintain. Plus, I’m almost 18."

The rest of the study session went smoothly. You’d occasionally sigh and drop your head in frustration, making Ellie stifle a giggle and demand you get back to work. You had only known her for a day and was already falling into a rhythm with her. You didn’t want to go home, but the sun was beginning to set and you wanted time to rest. Time to think about the day you had and try to make sense of it. When it was time to leave, Ellie walked you to the door.

"Thanks for coming over. It was fun," she said, her hands twisting together.

"Yeah, I had a good time too," you replied, feeling a strange mix of happiness and reluctance to leave.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, Ellie's words echoed in your mind: "Uncertainty isn't always bad... it's just room for something new, something better." And as you walked back across the dirt path to your house, you couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, something new and better had already begun.

You walked into your room, shutting the door behind you as if to seal off the world outside. It was your sanctuary, a little haven where you could breathe, think, and just be. You tossed your backpack onto the bed and sank into your chair, letting out a sigh as you looked around. Your room was still a mix of unpacked boxes and half-arranged furniture—a physical representation of your current state of mind, unsettled yet hopeful.

Picking up your phone, you noticed you had an unread Instagram DM. Your heart skipped a beat; could it be Ellie? Unlocking your phone, you saw the message was from Ingrid. Curiosity piqued, you opened.

ingrid.xoxo: Hey there, newbie. How was your first day?

You felt strange reading her message. Like it was something you weren’t supposed to be doing. Was she just being friendly or was there something more? You quickly typed back.

y/nsworld: hey! It was a little overwhelming but good overall. how was your day? 

Almost instantly, she replied.

ingrid.xoxo: Same old, same old. But seeing a fresh face around made it more interesting. 😉

The winking emoji caught your attention. Was she flirting? A little flutter of excitement mixed with confusion settled in your stomach.

Before you could process it further, the front door opened and closed loudly. It was your mom, finally home from work. You heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, and a few seconds later, she knocked on your door.

"Come in," you called.

The door swung open and your mom stepped in, her face tired but lighting up when she saw you. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your first day at the new school?"

You looked at her and smiled. "It was good, Mom. Made some new friends, and Ellie from next door is really nice. I went there and studied after school."

"That's wonderful," she said, her eyes shining with relief. "I was so worried you'd have a hard time adjusting."

"I mean, it's still the first day, but so far, so good," you said, shrugging. The relief on your mom’s face made you uneasy. You wanted to make this transition easy for both of you, but there was a newfound pressure building inside of you. You had to make it work here, even if you were unhappy. There was no escaping this place, and you suddenly felt trapped. Before your mind could go any further, she was speaking again. 

"That's my brave girl," she said, coming over to give you a hug. "I'm so proud of you."

As she left the room and wished you a goodnight with a firm kiss pressed to the top of your head, you sat back and sighed. Your phone buzzed again. Another message from Ingrid.

ingrid.xoxo: So, got any plans for the weekend? Maybe you'd like a tour guide to show you around. 😊

There it was again, that undercurrent of something more than just friendliness. You found yourself smiling, both intrigued and uncertain. It was as if life, in its own whimsical way, was presenting new possibilities, each more complicated than the last.

You glanced back at the door, then at your phone, then at the unpacked boxes still sitting in your room. Everything felt like a question mark, and as Ellie had wisely noted, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Lying back on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling, pondering your response to Ingrid, your new friendships, and the unpredictability of life itself. Uncertainty, as it turns out, could indeed be the room for something new, something better.

And so, with a mix of excitement and apprehension, you typed out your reply to Ingrid, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself.

y/nsworld: a tour guide sounds fun. i'm in. :) 

PRESENT DAY 

When Ellie's text popped up on your phone two days ago, you almost deleted it without reading it. The mere sight of her name on your screen was like a splinter you couldn't remove—small but persistently painful. She wrote that she missed your friendship, and though you wanted to scoff at her audacity, a part of you hesitated. Her words, "Can we at least talk? Just as friends?" echoed in your mind. Against your better judgment, a wave of nostalgia washed over you, and before you knew it, you found yourself typing, "Fine, but this doesn't mean anything." Now, as you stepped into the quaint coffee shop where so many of your past memories were brewed, you questioned that decision.

"You're early," Ellie remarked, her voice as flat as the expression on her face.

"I had nothing better to do," you responded, matching her tone as you stepped into the coffee shop. It was almost empty, the aroma of freshly ground coffee mingling with the subtle tension that had settled between you two.

"Of course, you didn't," Ellie sighed, sliding a cup of coffee your way across the wooden table. On it was marked with your order, two pumps of hazelnut, two pumps of vanilla, and one pump of almond, extra cream. 

You looked at the cup, then back at Ellie. "You remembered how I like my coffee."

"I'm not completely useless."

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip while simultaneously biting your tongue. You had every right to tell her she was useless, but you refrained. It was perfect, just the way you liked it. "What do you want, Ellie?"

Ellie sighed, looking uncomfortable for a moment before speaking, "I wanted to talk. About us."

You almost snorted into your coffee. "Us? There is no 'us'. Not anymore."

"I know I messed up, okay? But can't we at least—"

"Messed up?" you cut her off, feeling the familiar surge of anger rise within you. "You didn't just 'mess up', Ellie. You broke something. Something that can't be fixed."

Ellie flinched as if you had slapped her. The look on her face almost making you feel guilty. But she didn’t have that right anymore, and you weren’t about to let her back in.

 "I know. And I'll regret that for the rest of my life. But can't we at least try to be civil? For the sake of our friends, if not for us?"

You looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment you were back in her living room, struggling with physics homework and discussing the uncertainties of life. Back when things were simpler, easier. But that was a different time, a different you, and most importantly, a different Ellie.

"Being civil is a far cry from what you're suggesting," you said finally, breaking the silence.

Ellie sighed. "I know I don't deserve a second chance. Hell, I don't even deserve your friendship. But can't we at least try to be... something?"

You stared at her, pondering her words. The Ellie sitting in front of you now seemed so different from the girl you had fallen for. And yet, there were moments, fleeting seconds, when you could almost see traces of the old Ellie—the one who made you laugh, who made you think, who made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But those traces were just that—fleeting and insubstantial. The real Ellie, the one sitting in front of you, was a reminder of a chapter you had painfully closed.

"We can try," you said finally, "but I can't promise anything."

Ellie nodded, a mixture of relief and regret flashing across her face. "I guess that's all I can ask for."

As you both sipped your coffee in silence, the weight of what was left unsaid hung heavy in the air. And yet, for the first time in a long time, it felt like you could both breathe a little easier.

But as Ellie's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but wonder: in the quest for something new, something better, had you both lost something irreplaceable? There was something substantially broken between the two of you now, innocence on both parts lost. 

TWO YEARS AGO

You found yourself standing in front of your bathroom mirror, staring at your reflection as you pondered what to wear for this so-called 'tour' with Ingrid. You wondered if you should aim for casual or if Ingrid, with her meticulous style, would expect something more. After rummaging through your wardrobe, you settled on a simple pair of jeans and a loose-fitting white shirt. Casual, yet presentable. You threw on a light jacket, considering the morning chill, and took one last look in the mirror. Satisfied but not entirely confident, you grabbed your phone and headed downstairs. Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, bowl of cereal in front of her with her spoon in one hand and phone in the other.

"Going out?" Your mom looked up from her phone, her eyes scanning your outfit.

"Yeah, a girl from school is showing me around town."

"Ah, great. Text me if you need anything." Her eyes returned to her phone, but not before you caught the fleeting look of relief. There the pressure was again, and in turn your sinking stomach. 

"See you later, Mom," you said, heading for the door.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" she called out as you closed the door behind you.

As you approached Ingrid's car, you noticed her already leaning against it. She was wearing what could only be described as the epitome of 'casual chic'—ripped jeans, a designer top, and a pair of sunglasses perched effortlessly on her head. She looked up from her phone and greeted you with a broad, almost rehearsed, smile.

"Ready for your grand tour?" Ingrid inquired, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than you were comfortable with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, cautiously optimistic about the day ahead.

The interior of Ingrid's car was as meticulously maintained as her appearance. The leather seats were pristine, and the air was scented with something floral, bordering on overpowering. She started the engine, and you were off.

The first few minutes were filled with awkward silence. You sensed that Ingrid was waiting for you to initiate conversation, but you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to open your mouth to speak. Finally, she broke the ice.

"So, first stop, the infamous Longview Park. You'll love it—it's where everyone hangs out," she said, her voice tinged with enthusiasm that sounded slightly rehearsed.

"That sounds fun," you responded, forcing a smile.

As you drove through the town, Ingrid began to pepper you with questions. They started off harmless enough—questions about your old town, your interests, your favorite movies. But as the drive continued, the questions began to probe deeper.

"So, why did you move here? If you don't mind me asking," she added hastily, as though realizing she might be venturing into sensitive territory.

"My dad passed away. We couldn’t afford to live there anymore, so we had to move," you replied, trying to maintain composure. You had rehearsed this response, but it still felt like you were ripping off a Band-Aid every time you said it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ingrid responded, her voice softening for the first time that morning. But before you could reply, she was off again. "Are you seeing anyone?"

The abrupt switch in topic caught you off-guard. "Uh, no, not right now," you stammered.

"Really? Someone as hot as you? I find that hard to believe," she said, her eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road.

"Um, thanks," you muttered, not entirely sure how to interpret the compliment.

Ingrid seemed to take your discomfort as a cue to change the subject. "We're almost at Longview Park. It's truly the heart of our community," she declared, as if rehearsed.

As you pulled into the parking lot of Longview Park, you took a deep breath. It was time to see what this 'heart of the community' was all about.

he car rolled to a stop, and Ingrid switched off the engine, her eyes twinkling like she was unveiling a secret treasure. "And here we are—Longview Park. It's like the social hub of our high school world."

You opened the car door and stepped out, looking around. The park was sizable, dotted with large oaks and willows that offered generous shade. A playground occupied one corner, bustling with the laughter of children, while a pond shimmered peacefully in the mid-morning sun. People were everywhere—jogging, playing Frisbee, or simply lounging on the grass. It had a communal feel.

Ingrid led you along a gravel path, her steps confident and rehearsed as if she'd walked this path a thousand times before. "See that gazebo over there?" she pointed, "That's like the unofficial meet-up spot for parties and hangouts. And over there is the infamous 'Lovers' Lane' where couples go to... well, you know."

Her words were punctuated with a suggestive wink that made you feel slightly uncomfortable. You chuckled nervously, trying to dispel the awkwardness.

As you walked, you couldn't help but notice the way people looked at Ingrid—long enough to show interest but not too long to risk her noticing. She seemed to command attention effortlessly, and you couldn't tell if it was her charisma or if you were completely missing something

"Everyone loves to be here on weekends," Ingrid continued, her tone casual but her eyes scanning the area, as if looking for someone or something in particular. "It's a great place to catch up with friends or make new ones. Like we're doing right now."

She shot you a smile, the kind that was meant to be endearing but felt slightly off-mark. You returned it nonetheless. "It's a nice place. Very... lively," you said, choosing your words carefully.

As you neared the pond, you spotted a familiar face sitting on one of the benches—Cat. And next to her, unmistakably, was Ellie. They seemed engrossed in conversation, their faces inches apart. A pang of something—was it jealousy?—stabbed at you, but you quickly brushed it aside.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ingrid's voice brought you back to reality. She had followed your gaze and was now staring directly at Ellie and Cat. "Want to go say hi?"

You hesitated. The last thing you wanted was an awkward run-in, but before you could voice your concerns, Ingrid had already started walking toward them.

"Hey Cat, Ellie!" she called out, her voice unnaturally high. Both heads turned in your direction, and the range of emotions that crossed their faces in that brief moment was unsettling—surprise, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on.

"Hey Ingrid," Ellie finally spoke, her eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before returning to Ingrid. "What brings you here?"

"Just giving our new resident a grand tour of Longview Park," Ingrid replied, her arm casually draping over your shoulder. You felt a shiver run down your spine but chose to ignore it.

"That's nice of you," Cat chimed in, her eyes narrowing slightly as they settled on you. You couldn't tell if she was being sincere or just sizing you up.

"Yeah, it's been fun," you said, forcing a smile. But your eyes met Ellie's once more, and the unspoken words hung heavily in the air between you.

"Well, we won't keep you," Ingrid said abruptly, as if sensing the tension. "Lots more to see. Come on," she tugged at your arm lightly, and you followed her back to the path, leaving Ellie and Cat behind.

As you walked away, you felt Ellie's gaze burning into your back. You wanted to look back, to catch one last glimpse of her, but you resisted. Whatever was or wasn't happening between you and Ellie would have to wait. Right now, you were on Ingrid's turf, and you couldn't help but feel like a pawn in a much larger game.

"Shall we continue?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," you replied, but your thoughts were already miles away.

The door clicked shut as you slid into the passenger seat, your thoughts still reeling from the encounter at the park. Ingrid revved up the engine and pulled away, humming softly to the beat of the song playing on the radio. You looked over at her, everything about her seemed staged. 

"How did you like the park?" she asked, casting a quick glance in your direction.

"It was... interesting," you said cautiously. "It's a nice place, very lively. Lots of history, I imagine."

Ingrid chuckled. "Oh, you have no idea. It's like the theater of high school drama. Anything and everything happens there."

Her words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel like there was a deeper meaning behind them. But before you could ponder it further, your phone buzzed. Glancing down, you saw Ellie's name flash on the screen.

Ellie: hey. can we talk later?

You felt a mixed bag of emotions, but you were mostly nervous. You hadn’t taken the group's warning and hung out with Ingrid anyays. It wasn’t like she was two fingers deep inside of you, but with the way Cat and Ellie looked, it seemed that way.  You were about to type a response when you noticed Ingrid's eyes flicking toward your phone screen, then back to the road.

"Who's that?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity.

"Just a friend," you said, choosing your words carefully. "We're supposed to catch up later."

"Oh," she responded, but you could sense a change in her demeanor, a tightening around her eyes. "Well, I hope I'm not keeping you from anything important."

"No, not at all," you reassured her, quickly typing a response to Ellie. "Sure, let's talk. Text me when you're free."

As you pressed send, you couldn't help but wonder about the timing. Why did Ellie want to talk now? And what was it about? Your thoughts were interrupted by Ingrid turning up the volume on the radio, her fingers drumming rhythmically on the steering wheel.

"So," she began, breaking the momentary silence, "we've covered quite a bit today. Any highlights?"

You pondered the question. "Well, the park was a highlight, I guess. It's always good to know where people hang out. Makes me feel less like an outsider."

Ingrid smiled, but there was something about it that made you uneasy. "You're not an outsider, you know. You're just new, and new can be exciting."

"Thanks," you said, your phone buzzing again. This time it was a text from your mom asking about your day.

Feeling the need to switch gears, you asked, "So, how long have you been living here? You seem to know everyone and everything."

"Born and raised," she declared proudly. "It has its pros and cons, but I like it. And yes, I do know a lot of people, but it's not hard when you grow up here. Everyone kind of knows everyone."

"That must be nice," you said, though a part of you wondered what it would be like to have that much history in one place—so many connections, but also so many ties that could bind you.

"Yeah," she paused, her expression turning serious. "But it can also be a bit suffocating, you know? Sometimes you just want to break free, start fresh somewhere new. Like you."

You looked at her, intrigued by this sudden glimpse into her thoughts. "Well, starting fresh isn't as glamorous as it seems. It has its own ups and downs."

"True," she conceded. "But at least it's a blank slate."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. Another text from Ellie.

Ellie: i really need to talk to you. it's important.

This time, you couldn't ignore the urgency in her message. Something was up, something significant. You looked up to find Ingrid watching you, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, but her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

You hesitated, weighing your options. "Actually, I might need to cut our day short. Something's come up at home."

Ingrid's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in them—disappointment, perhaps, or maybe something else.

"Of course," she said, finally breaking eye contact. "Life happens. Let's get you home."

You stepped out of Ingrid's car, waving goodbye as she drove off. Your phone buzzed as you approached your front door, another text from Ellie.

Ellie: can you meet me at the grind? it’s about two blocks away from our house. i can drive us back. 

 You texted back a quick "on my way" and made your way over.

Ten minutes later, you walked into The Grind, the local coffee shop where the whole town seemed to be at this moment. As you scanned the room, your eyes met Ellie's. She was seated at a corner table, her phone face down and her fingers nervously tapping a rhythm against her coffee mug.

"Hey," you greeted as you approached, pulling out the chair across from her.

"Hey," Ellie replied, her eyes meeting yours briefly before averting. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem. Sounded like it was urgent. What's up?"

"I saw you today," she began cautiously, "with Ingrid."

A knot formed in your stomach. "Yeah, she was showing me around. Why?"

Ellie hesitated, looking down at her mug, and tapping the handle. She closed her eyes for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Be careful with her. She's not what she seems."

"I mean I heard what you guys said about her at lunc but," you replied, taking a sip of your coffee. "She seems harmless."

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. Cut right above her shoulders, the choppy layers suited her face. "Ingrid has a way of getting close to people, and it's not always for the right reasons. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Your eyes met, and you felt a strange warmth spread through you. Ellie was concerned for you. But why? She had only known you a day. You searched her face for an answer, for anything, but you came up short.

"Do you have something against her?" you asked, not hiding your skepticism.

"No," Ellie was quick to respond, "it's not like that. I've just seen her ruin friendships, relationships. She's manipulative."

"You seem serious," you remarked, detecting a tinge of something in her voice—was it jealousy?

Ellie looked down at her mug, her fingers ceasing their tapping. "I just don't want history to repeat itself, okay?"

"History?" you questioned, leaning forward. "What happened?"

She looked up again, her eyes meeting yours again, but this time they were vulnerable, exposed. "Ingrid and I had a thing once. And it felt more serious than her ‘things’ with Cat and Dina. And let's just say it didn't end well."

Now it made sense. The hints, the caution—it was personal for Ellie.

She held your gaze, her eyes searching yours for something you couldn't name. "Also," she paused, as if weighing whether to continue, "You’re my friend now. I care about you. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words.

You finally broke the silence. "Thank you for telling me, Ellie. I appreciate it."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, yeah. Of course"

As you left The Grind, your thoughts were a swirl of confusion and clarity. Ellie's concern had added another layer to the already complicated dynamic of your new life. But through it all, one thing became clear—Ellie cared about you, maybe more than she was willing to admit.

And as you replayed the conversation in your mind, you couldn't shake the feeling that Ellie wasn't just warning you about Ingrid. She was also staking her claim, marking her territory in a landscape that was becoming increasingly complicated.

[tainted-liquor]

'Hot Wheels! ...🎸⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ft. 1610Miles

...⋆｡° ✮

Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of lemon zest!

TWs: A lil suggestive, but nth serious? Miles js runs a hot wheels car across yo ass like a ramp😭

A/N: Inspired by my man lol

It was dark outside. Wayyy too dark, the kind of dark where your main priority would be to go straight home, regardless of what temptations of bright colors pushed themselves into your face. But right now, you were In Miles' house while his parents were out on their little 15-year anniversary date. You spent the whole day dancing in his room, trying on some of his shorts for the sheer fun of it, and watching TV together so close that it would've sent Mrs. Morales into a coma. It was around 9 o'clock, and the two lovebirds still weren't back from their date.

So, you decided to do something to pass the time. You hopped on on the plushy material of the Morales' couch, doodling in Miles' sketchbook while you waited for him to finish taking his shower. Did you nearly lose your shit when you saw his many many Gwen drawings? Yeah. But you were instantly relieved to see most of them crossed out, painted over, or replaced with drawings of you entirely.

You scribbled down a rough sketch of Miles, groaning in frustration when it didn't turn out how you imagined. He looked French instead of Puerto Rican, and everything decided it wanted to go wrong. You put down the pencil, letting it fall between the concave of its pages before scrolling on your phone. It wasn't very long until Miles emerged from the bathroom, internally panicking as his toned muscles stared at your from his short-sleeved white tee. "Eugh, you stink. Get back in the shower" You joked, sporting a wicked grin and a quiet laugh.

He side-eyed you, looking you up and down before sucking his teeth. "I will throw you off that couch, don't play with me" he chuckled, shifting closer so you could see the tiny blue box in his right hand. "Oooh, what's that?" You asked, turning your head as he loomed over you. He opened the box, revealing 3 toy cars stacked on each other. "My cars!" He beamed, flopping comfortably on the living room floor as he took out every toy car oh so gently. "Cars? Like, Hot Wheels cars?" You inquired, watching as he pretended to rev up the engine.

It was no surprise that he owned toy cars, you had already seen his massive collection of rare toys and posters around his room. You thought it was cute, silently admiring as he explained why he even has the cars, and breaking down their value. "I mean, I can put them away if you want?" He asked, sounding slightly more embarrassed by the second. "Oh, no no no! I love that you have interests!" You reassured. You watched him stay in his own little world, before continuing to scroll on your phone.

It wasn't long before Miles looked back up at you, suddenly brewing an idea. He slowed his actions, analyzing your posture and looking down at his cars. He fought back a smirk that crept on his face, slowly advancing towards you like he was trying to see what you were looking at on your phone. You didn't really notice he was getting closer, finding yourself lost in the world of TikTok as you watched a guy dance to Kung Fu Fighting. And you didn't notice until you felt cold metal hit the fabric of your shorts.

"AH-! FUCK-MILES WH-..." You began, turning around to see Miles using the curve of your spine and the silhouette of your behind as a ramp. Miles burst out in laughter, shivering as he ran each car across your backside. "Are you fuckin' serious right now?" You deadpanned. He nodded, a smug but clearly overjoyed grin plastered on his face. "What? It's-...pffFFHAHAA...It's the perfect ramp!"

"Make me smack you miles"

Taglist: @ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @Fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x

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[floweyseviltwin]

helloo. your palettes rule do you maybe have any tips on how you choose your colors :^) no pressure

Ah!!! Thank you!!!

my main tips are to keep values in mind, to not be afraid to saturate the HELL out of your colors, and to use the tools you’re given in digital programs!!!

elaboration & extra tips vvvv

Values- every hue has an inherent value, blue is the darkest, yellow is the lightest, so a saturation or hue change does mean a value change! Whenever i’m working on something more serious, i add a layer with a solid gray on “color“ mode to check my values throughout me making it. (do this as often as you flip your canvas, which you should also be doing fairly often) Values are super iimportant to the composition of your piece, so zoom out really far and see if your piece is still readable off of values!

Saturation- SATURATE YOUR COLORS. every time i color things, i start with a very (halfway to the full saturation or more) saturated color blocked in- often a color i want my character to be tinted- and start from that main color whenever i choose a new one. Though I like to use INCREDIBLY EYE-BLEEDINGLY saturated colors, greys have their place too!!! especially in more soft pieces. I never use fully desaturated greys, whites, or blacks. Again, i keep in mind the inherent value of colors, and use that to keep even my white tones saturated. (often i use a decently saturated cyan or yellow instead of white, and blues, purples, and dark reds instead of black) i also never touch the sides of the color picker when choosing my colors by hand, because it looks nicer.

Tools- this one’s for digital art specifically. Digital programs come with SO MANY useful tools that can improve your pieces so much, it’s silly to overlook them! USE filters, USE curves, USE layer modes!!!!! They’re there for a reason, and they can totally help if you’re too timid to saturate or darken your colors too much.

Other random tip i thought of while writing this that really opened my eyes recently. Try Starting by blocking in your LIGHTEST color, if you change it to be a wildly different hue than your character, then you can use that “white“ hue as reference for the rest of your colors. boom, LIGHTING!!!

^a doodle that came to mind using this. i started wanting the whitest color, their skin, to be this purple hue. so the color of their sweater, normally green, ended up a desaturated Orange because that’s how far it needed to go to appear green!!! Its really good to practice doing colors like this, it gets your artist brain flowin~

i freakin LOVE color theory, i’ve absorbed a lot of my color knowledge from learning from other artists. I reccomend the youtube channel Lighting Mentor for some really good tutorials on color and lighting. That’s one of my favorites, but there is literally a million channels and videos out there for you to learn from! If you type just “color theory“ into the youtube search bar you’ll find so many amazing videos by amazing artists. Don’t shy away from learning more about art!!!!! Embrace it!!!!!!!!!!!!! And GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN!!!!!!!!!! x^)♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

[explosionkatsu]

"Age doesn't matter" 4

Dad!Bakugou x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

After his shift, Eijirou headed towards his office and changed into his casual attire. It's an uneventful shift which Eijirou was glad about since it meant no one got hurt. But he couldn't stop thinking about Katsuki and his well-being.

Being a hero means helping as much as you can even if it costs you to offer up your life. So if it takes him eternally to find the person who caused this misery to his friend, he will.

Thinking about this made Eijirou's blood boil. It makes him think back to the day Katsuki introduced her to them. At first, he thought she was a fine woman who doesn't care about Katsuki's status, and wealth. But as the day goes by, he started noticing the changes in his friend. It even got to the point that Katsuki had to miss work just for him to buy her desires. Materialistic desires.

How dare she manipulate his best friend.

How dare she steal his wealth.

How dare she fool around while Katsuki's working his ass off.

How dare she leave him and their child behind.

Thinking about this made Eijirou desperate and arrest her right away. But that isn't logical thinking. He knew he needed to know her side first. He needed to know why she does that.

After Eijirou wrapped up, he put his suit where the agency will cleanse it. He bid everyone goodbye with a smile before departing the building. His smile suddenly slips as he fishes his phone from his pocket. Grasping it firmly, he doubled taps the screen seeing his phone lit up. His finger dances on the screen as he dials a familiar number before placing the phone near his ear and waiting for the other line to answer.

"Hello?"

"Ah hey! How are you doing?" Eijirou smiled as he began walking.

"Kirishima. I didn't expect you to call.”

"Haha, yeah. Today's uneventful so my shift ended quite early." Eijirou said scratching his head.

"So, what's up?"

Eijirou's smile disappears again, "I'll get frankly to the topic." He said with a serious voice, "I hope you have useful news."

The person at the other line raised an eyebrow before smiling. "Ah. Yes actually. You'll be shocked."

"What is it?" Eijirou asked making him stop walking.

"She's actually still in the city."

..

"Okay, class. It’s already 4 pm. That's all for today. You may only leave when your parents showed up to pick you up." Ms. Y/n smiled as she started assembling her items.

One by one, the parents show up greeting her before they took their child and leave. The only one left is Kazui who's busily sketching random stuff on a piece of paper.

The fact that Kazui knew someone would pick him up but probably late made Ms. Y/n feel sad. He’s too young to experience this kind of thing. That is also why she mentioned to Mr. Bakugou that she used to be a babysitter so that she can officially take care of Kazui.

Taking a huge breath, Ms. Y/n made her way to Kazui who hasn't noticed her yet. Once she reached his side, she knelt down and tap him on his shoulder trying to get his attention which worked.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazuo looked at her curiously as he stopped doodling.

“Will anyone pick you up?” Ms. Y/n asked. She ought to know if someone will pick him up so that she’ll know if they had to wait or she’ll take him with her.

Kazuo looked down at his paper sadly. “Papa didn't mention he’ll pick me up, not grandma.” He mumbled.

His tone of voice causes Ms. Y/n’s heart to ache. So without further ado, she gathers her things, as well as Kazui’s, and motioned him to follow her.

“Ms. Y/n, where are we going?” Kazui asked as he watches his teacher locking their classroom door.

“I’ll take you to my apartment again. But I need to message your grandparents first, or your papa to let them know you’re with me.” Ms. Y/n smiled down at Kazui who smiled at her excitedly.

“Really!? Do I get to watch you cook again?!” Kazui beamed and followed Ms. Y/n way to the teacher’s office where she has her things.

“Of course.” Ms. Y/n giggled seeing Kazui's eyes sparkling.

Once Ms. Y/n finished packing the things she needed to work on her home and messaging Kazui’s guardian, she wave to her co-teachers, telling them she’ll take her leave.

Ms. Y/n felt Kazui’s hand grasp her skirt making her look down. This must be how Kazui is to Mr. Bakugou. So she took his hand and held it giving Kazui a gentle smile.

“What do you want for dinner, dear?” Ms. Y/n asked as they both headed to the exit door.

Kazui released a humming sound as if thinking, making Ms. Y/n chuckle as she watches him.

“Can we have Hamburger Steak?” Kazui looked up at her showing his beautiful velvet eyes as he waited for her to answer.

“Mhhmm.” Ms. Y/n pretended to think, placing her pointer finger on her pouting lips. “Alright.” She smiled.

“Yay!!”

..

It was now 6 pm in the evening and Katsuki just finished his shift. He's glad and pissed at the same time that today was slow. No villain attacks or what so ever.

As he made his way to his agency, Katsuki took this chance to check his phone. Seeing a lot of notifications from his old mentor, his parents, and Kazui’s school. Of course, he clicked the one concerning his child.

When the message showed on his screen, he reads it carefully. Although, the content of the message made him facepalm. He forgot to inform Kazui’s teacher he’ll pick him up late. Boy, he was glad Kazui’s teacher is considerate enough to look after Kazui while he was on duty.

She’s been taking care of his child for a while now since they both got closer and she even bring his child to her apartment, waiting for someone to pick him up. He was glad someone was giving him a helping hand.

When Katsuki reached his office, he kept reminding himself to bring a gift as a thank you to Ms. Y/n for taking care of his child.

..

After they both went to the supermarket to get the ingredients needed for their dinner, Ms. Y/n went to the beverage area and added a small bottle of sparkling grape juice for herself and a pair of orange juice boxes for Kazui. She paid everything to the cashier and walk their way to her apartment which isn't that far from the school.

When they entered her apartment, Kazui took the bags from Ms. Y/n, helping her to place them on the counter which he could barely reach.

Ms. Y/n giggled at this and thanked Kazui before going to her bedroom and changing into comfortable clothes. After changing, she made her way to her kitchen and started preparing.

“Ms. Y/n?” Kazuo called out while he sat on the counter top where he could watch Ms. Y/n cook. But of course, away from the stove.

“Yes, sweetie?” Ms. Y/n answered while she focuses on mixing the contents needed for the burger steak.

“Are you single?”

Ms. Y/n halt her movement, blinking confusedly before turning her head to look at Kazui. “Where did this come from?”

“Well, I don't see any other pictures in here. Only your picture and a family picture right there.” Kazui said raising his hand to point where he saw the picture.

Observant. The word that came up in Ms. Y/n's mind. She knew Kazui’s smart. She witnessed how he can effortlessly solve any problem written on the blackboard. Especially when it's a situational problem. No, she didn't teach these kinds of problems to her students. But when she saw Kazui’s ability, she decided to test it out. That's where she found out about Kazui’s sharp thinking. Maybe it was because he was the child of the number 2 hero? Was he teaching his child these things? She’ll never know.

“Haha. I am single. And why are you asking this, huh?” Ms. Y/n eyes Kazui suspiciously and is playful at the same time. “Are you going to ask me out?”

Kazui’s face turns red and seeing this reaction made Ms. Y/n laugh.

“I’m kidding.” Ms. Y/n said giggling and continue preparing their dinner.

“C-can I ask you a question?” Kazui was looking at his feet when he said this.

“Go ahead, sweetie.” Ms. Y/n spoke out gently as she started shaping the burger steak.

“Can you be my mama?”

[torahoes]

(IDOLiSH7) Haruka Isumi - An Idol's Daily Life Rabbit Chat: Part 1 - "kome up with"

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Please note that I am not a professional translator. If you come across any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will make the necessary corrections.

Haruka Isumi: Takanashi-san, good work today.

Haruka Isumi: Are you with Yotsuba right now? He hasn't read my text on Rabbit Chat yet

Tsumugi Takanashi: Isumi-san, good work today!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'm not with him at the moment. He's currently doing a magazine photoshoot with Iori-san, so he might not be able to check Rabbit Chat for a while...!

Haruka Isumi: Ah

Haruka Isumi: So that's why Izumi hasn't read my text either

Tsumugi Takanashi: Was there something you wanted to tell them?

Haruka Isumi: I accidentally took Yotsuba's vocabulary book home with me, and I was wondering what to do. We have a test coming up, so I should probably return it soon

Tsumugi Takanashi: Ah! The English vocabulary test, right? I heard you all studied together for it after school.

Haruka Isumi: Yup. Yotsuba was panicking, so I helped him make the vocabulary book

Haruka Isumi: But the fact that he hasn't noticed it's with me tells me he didn't try to review it yesterday lmao

Tsumugi Takanashi: He mentioned this morning that he gave in to his temptation to watch a TV show and couldn't study… > <

Tsumugi Takanashi: Should I inform him about the vocabulary book?

Haruka Isumi: Nah, it's fine. He'll probably read it after the shoot

Haruka Isumi: I did think of taking it to the dorm right now if it was urgent since I have some free time

Haruka Isumi: But I'll just give it to him at school tomorrow

Tsumugi Takanashi: Sorry for the trouble and thank you!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Haruka Isumi: By the way, Yotsuba misspelled a word lmao

Haruka Isumi: "kome up with"

Haruka Isumi: So funny

Tsumugi Takanashi: "come" turned into "kome"... > <

Haruka Isumi: And to top it off, he drew a character next to it that looks like a rice grain [1] lmaoo

Haruka Isumi: It's kinda got a relaxed face

Tsumugi Takanashi: Tamaki-san is good at drawing!

Tsumugi Takanashi: He's always doodling King Pudding sketches in the corners of his scripts; they're adorable...!

Tsumugi Takanashi:

Haruka Isumi: Yeah, he is pretty good

Haruka Isumi: Though everything he draws is kinda round.

Haruka Isumi: I'll write down the correct spelling next to the rice grain

Tsumugi Takanashi: Thank you very much!

Tsumugi Takanashi: Speaking of which, I heard your seats recently changed, and now you're sitting closer to each other.

Tsumugi Takanashi: I also heard you always wake up Tamaki-san when he's sleeping during class while you're distributing handouts...!

Haruka Isumi: Seriously, that guy falls asleep during class all the time

Haruka Isumi: Especially on days when we have classical literature in the fifth period; he's out cold

Tsumugi Takanashi: I wonder if it's because he gets sleepy after having lunch... > <

Haruka Isumi: That's probably part of it, but our classical literature teacher is a sweet old lady who speaks super softly

Haruka Isumi: I get drowsy too, so I understand

Tsumugi Takanashi: When a teacher has a soothing way of speaking, it does make you sleepy...

Haruka Isumi: What did you used to do when you were sleepy during class, Takanashi-san?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I would intentionally drop my eraser and pick it up, just to stretch my body a bit...!

Haruka Isumi: What if it rolled in a weird direction? Wouldn't that make you stand out more

Tsumugi Takanashi: There's a trick to making it roll to a good spot!

Haruka Isumi: What? lmaoo what kind of trick is that lol

Haruka Isumi: But yeah, moving around does help wake you up. I also do stuff like taking off my jacket or rolling up my sleeves to cool down

Tsumugi Takanashi: It must be even more exhausting for you all, considering you also have work… > <

Haruka Isumi: But if you're going to school anyway, it's better to just listen to the classes so you don't have to do any reviewing later. Plus, it saves you from last-minute studying before tests

Tsumugi Takanashi: That's impressive, especially with how busy you are!

Tsumugi Takanashi: I heard you occasionally even pack your own lunchbox.

Haruka Isumi: Yotsuba and Izumi talk about stuff like that too, huh? Lol. Only sometimes, when I don't have work

Haruka Isumi: I just pack what my grandma's already cooked or use frozen food, so it's not that big of a deal

Tsumugi Takanashi: That's more than enough...!

Haruka Isumi: It'd be nice if I could quickly whip up something with whatever's in the fridge

Haruka Isumi: But I don't have that kind of repertoire at all

Tsumugi Takanashi: Would you like me to recommend a recipe app?

Tsumugi Takanashi: I use it too, and it's very convenient because it suggests meals based on the ingredients you have in your fridge!

Haruka Isumi: There's an app like that!?

Haruka Isumi: I kinda want to check it out

Tsumugi Takanashi: I'll send you the link later!

End of Part 1.

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

[1] Tamaki made a drawing of a rice grain because "kome" (米) means rice in Japanese.

[diggitydoggo]

Beta Daisy and Dandy

I've actually been drawing Daisy for a while so I thought that I should at least dump all the old art somewhere. Time for a trip down memory lane!

First ever drawing

Ah yes. When I promised myself not to make anymore OCs cause I already had a whole bunch of fnaf ones. So much for that.

Her colors used to be a lot less saturated which in my opinion didn't fit in with such a colorful cast. There are some parts of her outfit I kept like the overalls and her shirt. I just changed the sleeves so it actually looks like she's wearing gloves like I intended. Her attitude is pretty much the same.

Doodles!

Fun Fact: Her Halloween costume is just her dad's old clothes.

He was also supposed to be dead.

Still gay as fuck

Next are drawings I made for old tiktoks of Daisy!

(If you wanna find them then my tiktok is linked in my bio)

"Maybe he's blinking when you're blinking."

Second time ever drawing Julie! This is when I started to lean into my more cartoony style for Daisy. She still never trusted Wally.

"You're not my friend!"

Finally leaned away from so much orange. I really liked playing around with Julie's design since she gives off Mable (Gravity Falls) vibes when it comes to fashion. Always wanting to change it up.

"Don't start picking fights with my costumers!"

First time ever drawing Howdy! Really wanted to emphasize how tiny she is compared to him.

"Have you been there the whole time!?"

First Wally drawing! Sneaky little guy. Definitely wanted him to look more off-putting in this one. And new Julie outfit! This one was a little Minnie Mouse inspired getup. I also like the idea of Julie's hair always being really big.

"I know saying someone looks gay is 'wrong' BUT LOOK AT HIM!"

First ever Dandy doodle! This was after I made his beta design and wanted to tease him a little since beforehand I never actually mentioned Daisy even had a brother. Speaking of which.

Dandy!

He used to actually be more two-faced and mean. Heck he wasn't even supposed to be living in the neighborhood originally. His appearance would've been exactly like those episodes in kids shows where a new "perfect" character is introduced but is mean behind closed doors to a certain character and the one character that doesn't like them gets brushed off as "jealous" but then it gets revealed they were bad the whole time to the others, then cue the group hug apology. Basically he would've been a meaner and more manipulative version of Daisy. Someone that really brought out her insecurities. Someone that loved being the "Better Daisy" Which is ironic considering he got replaced with a better version of him. As for his appearance I was trying to go for a more city-like look in contrast to Daisy's rough and tumble country vibe. But after a while to me it didn't feel "kid's show" enough.

Pets

I completely forgot about this drawing so I'm adding it a whole two days later. But yeah they canonically have pets. Daisy has a flytrap she named Gertrude and Dandy has his pet mouse Mortimer.

Last drawings of Beta Daisy

Some things really never change.

Well that's all of my old drawings of these goobers (Yes I only made three drawings of the old Dandy) It was nice looking back on some old memories. It's been a fun eight months having these two idiots live in my head.

[scaradooche]

Lovesick

Buzzing, buzzing is what you wake up to. More specifically buzzing from your phone. You pick up your phone all drowsy to see someone calling you. “Hm?” you say waiting for the other person on the line to speak.

“Y/n where the fuck are you right now? Lumine says hastily.

“At my house.” You mumble

“Y/n it’s 7:58 am school starts at 8.”

You immediately hang up without saying another word. You rush out of bed dreading the outcome of the day already.

It’s 8:20 am when you get to school. You walk slow trying to delay your arrival to your first class which is Ap physics with one of the worst teachers. Ms. Cordez. Great. You take the time to actually look at the outfit you’re wearing. You’re wearing black sweats with a gray sweater and a white shirt. The outfit you picked out wasn’t that bad for picking random stuff you saw in your room but it wasn’t exactly something you would normally wear. You stopped, you didn’t know why. It was like your mind wasn’t processing anything your body was doing. You pick up your head from looking at the ground to realize that you’re in front of your class. You take a deep breath and enter the classroom.

You’re not even one step in before you here a “Ah, look who decided to show up.”

“Hello..” you mutter trying to make your way to your seat.

“Not so fast young lady, why are you late?” You hear Ms. Cordick Cordez say.

“Overslept..”

“Give me a full sentence.”

“I overslept.” you state clearly getting annoyed of her. Sometimes you wonder to yourself if she actually has a life outside of school. You could never imagine that. There is reason why she’s a Ms. and not a Mrs.

“Do you think that is a full sentence?” she says in a irritated voice. When looking at her face you notice that she looks as red as a lobster. You find the comparison quite funny. If you really think about it she does have facial features that do resemble one.

“Yes.”

“Oh, so you want to give me attitude now?” She says in the most obnoxious way ever. At this point you just think she’s trying to get under your skin.

“What the hell? I’m not-“ you try to speak before Ms. Cordez interrupts you.

“We do not use this kind of language in this classroom.” She speaks with a pissy tone.

‘You’re being dramatic, you need to actually chill it’s not a big deal.”

“You do not tell me to chill. I am not your friend. I am your teacher. You need to learn some manners young lady. Detention after school.”

You give her a blank stare before walking to your seat. What a pleasant start to your day you think.

3:00 pm, school finally ended and you can see people heading out of there classes. Some heading out with their friends most likely having plans since it’s a Friday others just going home. You pull out your phone to text your friends.

You close your phone heading to Ms. Cordicks classroom to spend two hours of your life doing absolutely nothing. When you get there the first thing she has you do is check in and hand her your phone.

“You’ll get this back after you serve your time.”

You nod your head and find a table to sit at. Once you find a desk you bring out a notebook planning to just doodle instead of doing any actual work. Around 5 minutes later you see more students coming in you hope that none of them sit next to you. You never really liked the fact that she had table with chairs instead of just desks. Another 5 minutes later Ms. Cordez decides to speak.

“Seeing that everyone is here, I would like to say that I’m not going to be in the same room with you while you serve your time here. Instead I’ll be in another room with Mrs. Smith grading work together. I assume you won’t leave this room without your phones. I except you all to be doing work for the next two hours.” She’s says hastily before she walks out.

Once she leaves you see friends that were split up start getting up and sitting together. The news that she’s not going to be in this room doesn’t affect you at all. While you’re doodling you hear someone getting up. It doesn’t bother you since a lot of people are getting up right now and changing their seats. It doesn’t bother you until this person sits next to you. You stop doodling and look up at this person to only realize it was him. The kids older brother. Your “boyfriend”. Childe.

Prev||Masterlist||Next 2.5: Fuck you Ms. Cordick

Fun Facts:

Idk how to write accurate detention scenes since I’ve never gotten detention 😝😝😍😍

Idk how to write so don’t mind my bad writing

Ms. Cordez is my irl teacher I hate her sm praying on her downfall everyday 😍

Next chapter will probably be uploaded today and it’s gonna be majority writing 😝 be prepared for more of my bad writing 😍😍🔥🔥

No character fun facts this chapter 😔😞😣 the first half wants to be bold for some reason pls don’t mind it 😓😓

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

can u please do 2bdamned x reader but they have the same music taste? sorry for bad english!! :3

Your English is fine :]

Doc x Reader - tunes n chillin (in other words, yall gonna like MY MUSIC TASTE lol)

Hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue.

The base was relatively empty, everyone else off doing who knows what, killing who knows who, leaving you plenty of space to zone out into your own world, music on in the living room while you doodled away in an old sketchbook. A ballpoint pen was the only tool you had on hand now, but the deep black strokes added weight and character to your art.

The unsuspecting victim, of darkness in the valley. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want, where you can always find me.

Scrawling what came to mind, the song inspired you to roughly doodle the main Nightmare Before Christmas characters, the gaunt and oddly handsome Jack Skellington, and his sweet patchwork lover Sally. Oh to have a romance like theirs would be a dream.

And we'll have Halloween on Christmas, and in the night we'll wish this never ends -

"We'll wish this never ends." You looked up from your art, seeing Doc nodding his head along to the music. "Hey, it's a good song." He shrugs when he notices you watching him.

Some weeks later you were in your room, exhausted from dragging around some guy whom Sanford was currently torturing information out of. To drown out the noise, you'd placed a CD into the player and flicked through an old manga, something about a cosmic horror planet coming to devour the earth.

I'm just a normal boy who sank when I fell overboard. My ship would leave the country, but I'd rather swim ashore. Without a life vest, I'd be stuck again. Wish I was much more masculine, maybe then I could learn to swim like fourteen miles away.

Your door was currently non-existent, Hank had ripped out part of the hydraulic seal during a half-MAG rage, so currently only a curtain served as your privacy. Privacy which was often ignored by the lads.

The curtain swayed as Doc stormed in, he wasn't wearing his mask and his displeasure was evident. "Trying to break passed some firewalls is incredibly difficult with all that fucking noise Sanford is making. I'm used to some level but his current toy hasn't stopped screaming his lungs out for two hours straight. I can't even think right now!"

You looked up from your lounging position. "Yeah, that's why I put music on. It's not like I can shut the door." Doc sat on your bed, going back to debugging and unencrypting.

"I'll get it sorted when I have the parts, I promise." You knew why he'd come to your room, it was the furthest from Sanford's makeshift torture chamber in the storage room. Well, that was half of why he'd come. In truth, the old dog had grown rather fond of your company.

You two had a few bits in common, music taste for one, and the differences were good talking points, clashing viewpoints being a discussion rather than an argument. It was nice, yes, he enjoyed being around you.

Now floating up and down, I spin, colliding into sound, like whales beneath me, diving down. I'm sinking to the bottom of my- Everything that freaks me out, the lighthouse beam has just gone out. I'm cold as cold as cold can be... Be...

As you flipped through the gruesome pages of your manga, you paid little attention to your surroundings, the music and all else just melting into background noise.

I wanna swim away but don't know how-

"Sometimes it just feels just like I'm fallin in the ocean." And there it was again, just barely above a whisper, Doc's voice mixing with the vocals.

You couldn't help but smile, his rugged voice was rather lovely when singing, Deimos was right. Dei secretly admitted to you that Doc used to sing him to sleep when he was young, it was nice to finally get to hear it.

"You sing pretty well Doc."

"Hm? Ah." You could see his cheeks turn red, his gaze averting from you. "Thanks. You wanna know something funny? Your playlist seems to have a lot in common with mine. Rather a lot in common."

"Really?" You smiled at him, he seemed to shift uncomfortably under your watchful eyes, his cold exterior slowly giving way to a hidden sweetness. "You'll have to share it with me sometime, we can just listen together for a while."

"Hm," Doc rubbed the back of his neck, giving you a shy smile. "I think I'd like that."

[dozing-marshmallow]

GETTING A DOG WITH CHRIS MCLEAN HEADCANONS

The house was empty with just you and Chris.

And you were a long way from having children with him.

So, you asked him something that wasn’t as demanding as children, but all the more loveable.

At first, he refused,“We already have enough pets in our backyard, (Y/N)!”

He means those wild animals...?,“Those aren’t pets, Chris... They don’t live with us and they can look after themselves.”

“Oh, so you want a feeble animal to depend on you like the sick freak you are?”

When he said it like that...

“Joooooking! It’s a joke, don’t be sad!” he pets your head,“Let’s go get ourselves a dog.”

A dog? But he’s already owned three in the past. Why not get a kitty instead?

“Eh. I’d prefer to get an animal that likes me.” what a flawed answer.

“Chris, cats do like their owners.” you explained, doodling the head of a cat on his hand with a marker,“Just because they’re reserved, it doesn’t mean they hate you.”

He begged to differ,“Mhm. Walking away whenever I try pet them is love, yeah? No thanks. Dogs don’t have a social battery, much like me, and they all love me. They don’t just sleep around all day, they want to spend time with me.”

Okay then.

You make it to the pet store with him, taking longer than you guys thought it would to actually look at the dogs.

After all, the store had tarantulas, snakes, fishes.

Things you saw most of the time on the island, but looking so different seeing them in a tank.

“Aw, Chris... Look at this Turkish Angora.” you cooed at the pretty kitty at one point, who stared up at you with captivating blue eyes.

He takes one look at the white furry face,“Meh.”

“You just wanna look at dog pens?”

“Duh.” he responds condescendingly, frown twitching at you being the one wasting time.

“Alright.” you scoff, going ahead,“Don’t look me like you weren’t gawking at that axolotl for fifteen minutes.”

“They’re cute!” he tried to justify, catching up to you.

You finally get to the dogs, this aisle naturally being the loudest part of the pet store with their barking and playing.

“There’s so many choices!” you exclaim, leaping from one stall to the other,“Shih tzus, western terriers, beagles, dachshunds! Ah! They have everything here! I wish I could take all of them home!”

“And have my house smelly and scruffy? No thanks.” Chris sneers, no compassionate thought spared towards any of the breeds you mentioned,“Let’s just find one already.”

One of them will melt him,“Look at the chihuahuas here!”

“Hmm...” he peers down at the bundle of the tinier dogs, yipping at him, haven’t touching his interest.

“What’s with that look? Chriiiis.” you knew what could be going through his head,“Chihuahuas aren’t as bad as the media makes them out to be!”

“It’s not that...” his voice creeps with uncertainty,“They’re just...well...permanently small, aren’t they?”

“You mean you wanna get a big dog?” you twist your head to the end of the corridor, seeing there were quite a number of pens you have yet to look at,“There should be some down there!”

And there were! “Now we’re talking!” Chris eventually approves, watching the batch of huskies.

“They’re very beautiful... Though I was hoping I could pick up the dog.” you had every right to estimate that. These dogs were probably taller than you if they stood on their hind legs.

“Tough luck, dogs aren’t made to be carried.” Chris scornfully responds to your dream, before sighing,“If it means that much to you, I suppose we can get one as a baby... Hm...”

He had difficulty picking. You were fine with any breed, so you proposed to him,“How about I go buy the dog essentials while you pick the one you want?”

“Really?” there was this paw of gratitude that glittered his eye for a second, before he bashed it away with an egoistical,“I mean yeah sure, whatever, I know the one I’ll pick is gonna be right anyway. See you in a bit.”

You internally grieve from the way these dogs you met earlier looked at you as you walked past them. How long will these precious animals need to wait for the perfect family to take them home? The one... Such a shame he stuck to his word this time.

Whether Chris wanted to or not, you were definitely going to personally put some more money towards animal shelters.

By the time you were done paying and had carrier bags of dog treats, bowls, a bed, and toys, you set off on your journey back to the dog aisle to reunite with Chris, just for it to be completed halfway through as he had thought the same, newly sporting something in his hand too: a lead attached to a picturesque polar bear like dog next to him, with its tongue hanging out in a smile.

“I decided to get the Samoyed.” he grinned,“I was stuck between that or the German shepherd, but then I thought, why not get something new?”

“Aw...!” you bend down to pet the dog’s fur, the Samoyed, who was very welcoming, even cocking its head to invite you into doing so. The vanilla strands of its body fluffed in mighty submission under your hand, feeling too heavenly to be tangible,“Such a pretty dog! Is it a male or female, and did you give it a name yet?” you didn’t hear your voice pitching higher.

“It’s a boy dog, and no, I haven’t figured out a name yet, which is weird, since I am fantastic at those.” his tone too mystified at his current lack of creativity.

A random suggestion popped into mind after looking into the eyes of the big dog, noticing his being very similar to Chris’,“How about Lavender?”

“Lavender? Seriously? I can’t imagine calling him that! He’s not even purple! It makes no sense!” Chris criticised immediately.

Sheesh, you didn’t think it that bad of a name,“Alright then, what were some that you had?” you asked, straightening your legs back up.

“Snow orrr Snowball.”

“...”

“...Lavender, it is.”

Perfectly timed, Lavender let out a howl, sugaring Chris’ lemon mouth into stroking him with adoration.

“Aw!” he was back in the shoes of his fans,“I love this dog!”

Who couldn’t? He hadn’t been with Chris for a whole day and his person had already changed. Dogs... Purer than man could ever be.