#as much of a loner as he is i think deep down he has a heart of gold

[s4nnyside]

yk what has me squirming and wriggling like a worm the last few days

i remember when yoru was released devs were talking about the inspirations behind him and kazuma kiryu was one of them. now before i got into the yakuza franchise i was like “oh yeah i see it they got similar face shapes” and…….that was literally it. just appearance.

THEN i played yakuza and i was so bummed out i was like “yoru could’ve been like him and still retain his sass but he’s just a plain jerk” LMAOOOOOOO

thankfully the devs made him a bit less harsh character wise as the lore progressed and he’s not being a huge prick like before. dont get it twisted im sure he can be a little shit but he’s got decency now aight

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, love your work and can’t wait to see what you do with this. Eddie/reader. Reader is Chrissy’s best friend since childhood. She’s not popular, is more of a nerd and is always overlooked, used or ignored for Chrissy. A school event is coming up and Eddie, who has always seen her, wants to ask her out. Reader gets confused and thinks he wants to ask Chrissy out and wants her help. She’s super insecure. Can Eddie show her his true intentions in time.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting🫶🏻

Not her, you

Y/N loved having Chrissy as her best friend. She was a sweet girl who'd do anything for Y/N and Y/N would do the same for her. The only struggle she faced was living in Chrissy's shadow.

Y/N wasn't in the same crowd as Chrissy and they were only best friends because they met as children. Chrissy got popular and Y/N wasn't meant to be. She was a nerd, she liked nerdy things and didn't find an interest in sports or clubs.

It was a common occurrence for people to use Y/N to get to Chrissy. Y/N was positive that every guy that has ever talked to her, was interested in getting to Chrissy. Which sucked and knocked Y/N's confidence down to hell but she wasn't going to dread it. Plus Y/N was too shy to have a boyfriend anyway, she'd never go for a guy like she liked. And well no guys liked her.

At least that's what she believes. Unknown to her, Eddie has spent the last two weeks trying to get himself to talk to her. A school carnival was coming up and he wanted to ask her to go with him. He knew he shouldn't be scared. She was nice and shy, it wasn't like she would scream in his face and laugh about it with her friends. But the thought of rejection held him back.

Before he knew it the carnival was happening tomorrow and tonight was his last chance. Chrissy was throwing a party and Eddie knew Y/N would be there. He hoped with liquid courage he could get the damn question out of his head and out his mouth.

~

Y/N grabbed more beers from the garage and set them on the table. The party was loud but luckily mostly everyone was outside. A few loners inside and a few couples who disappeared down the halls.

Y/N kept to herself during the parties. Chrissy often got busy with everyone but always checked in on her. Y/N wasn't much of a partier but she'd never say no to Chrissy.

"Y/N, right?"

Y/N jumped as a voice came from behind her. She held her hand over her chest and turned around. She smiled when she saw Eddie standing there, a red cup in his hand.

"Yes, and Eddie?" She asked to clarify, even though she knew exactly who he was. He was a pretty boy with long hair and a perfect smile. He nodded and she smiled.

"So awesome party, huh?" Eddie asked, cringing at how stupid he sounded. Y/N lightly laughed.

"Um yeah. Not really my scene but it's not horrible," Y/N shrugged

"Yeah, I get that. I'm not well liked so parties aren't my thing," Eddie lightly laughed. He reached behind her to grab a beer. Y/N felt her body stiffen from having him so close to her.

"I wanted to ask you something about the carnival tomorrow," Eddie said, he took a deep breath. He prepared to say it all. Her eyes were waiting for him to continue and he got nervous. The alcohol was wearing off faster than he wanted. He opened his mouth and-

"Are you and Chrissy going?"

He wanted to smack himself

"We are, kinda like a girls' night out," she said with a smile

"Oh that's a bummer, I mean! Good for you guys. Friendship is important. I know it's kinda like a date and couple spot, you know? Maybe it can be a date" Eddie ranted. He blabbed when he was nervous and boy was he nervous.

"I mean I could probably talk to her and rearrange things," Y/N smiled. "If you were interested, I mean. We can have many other girl nights."

Eddie beamed happily, smiling, "Yeah, that would be great. I wrote down my number in hopes I would get this far."

Y/N laughed and accepted the piece of paper.

"It was nice talking to you," Y/N smiled. Eddie waited until she was out of sight before he pumped his fist in victory.

Y/N walked outside in search of Chrissy. She found the pretty blonde standing alone.

"Hey, got something for you," Y/N said, handing the paper over to her. Chrissy smiled and took the paper.

"What's this?" Chrissy asked as she read the number

"Eddie Munson's number. He wants to take you to the carnival on a date. I promise I'm cool with it." Y/N explained.

"Well, I'm not! You've had a crush on him for months. I'm not going on a date with him," Chrissy scoffed.

"Chris, he was so happy when I said I'd rearrange things. Who cares if I have a crush on him. If he likes you, my crush is pointless." Y/N shrugged

"It's not pointless. And I'm not going on this date."

~

The next morning Eddie was beaming with excitement. He was waiting on the phone for hours, waiting for her to call to talk about the details of the date.

When the phone rang, he was fast to answer it on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Eddie, It's Chrissy,"

"Oh hi, what's up?" Eddie asked. He was confused as to why Chrissy would be calling him and how she got his number.

"I'm sorry but I can't go on a date with you tonight," Chrissy said, she felt horrible. She was never good at telling people no.

"Date? What date?" Eddie asked, the longer the conversation went on the more confused he became.

"At the carnival? Y/N gave me your number last night at the party," Chrissy explained

"Oh, um, I actually was trying to ask her out. My number was meant for her,"

"That's amazing!" Chrissy squealed, "Grab a pen, I'm giving you her number."

~

Y/N twirled in front of the mirror, terrified for her date.

"You don't have to be nervous! He likes you," Chrissy said as she placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"But what if doesn't once we are alone together? We've never truly talked. Maybe he'll hate my personality."

"He's going to love your personality! There is nothing to dislike about you,"

Y/N tried to believe her words and tried to boost her confidence as she heard a call pull up. She walked over to her window and saw Eddie walking towards her front door.

"Take a deep breath and have fun," Chrissy said before she sent Y/N out the door.

~

Y/N already was feeling comfortable around Eddie as they arrived at the carnival. She didn't dress up too much but still put a little effort into her appearance. With the amount of compliments Eddie gave her when she opened the door, she felt as if she did a good job.

They walked around the carnival, stopping at a few stands to play games.

"How are you so good at this?" Eddie laughed

He tossed the basketball and it smacked the rim and bounced at him. Y/N smiled as she easily made basket after basket.

"No idea, I don't even do sports," Y/N laughed

"WINNER WINNER!"

The loud alarm blared as the worker reached up and grabbed a small stuffed bear. She smiled as she grabbed it. Her smile grew bigger as she handed the bear to Eddie.

"Isn't the guy supposed to win a prize for the girl?" Eddie joked, but more than happy to take the bear with a smile

"Maybe if he was good at basketball," Y/N teased

Eddie laughed and shoved her shoulder. "Next stand, I'm creaming your ass."

~

After a few hours of winning prizes and spending most of their money, they made their way to the parking lot.

"Want any yet?" Eddie asked as he held his bucket of cotton candy

"Sure," Y/N said as they made it to his van. She went to reach for a piece when Eddie grabbed a piece and fed it to her. She blushed as she leaned in and ate the piece of cotton candy from his fingers.

She felt nervous at how close their faces were. She swallowed the candy but didn't move away. He stared into her eyes, loving the way the moon shined on her.

She gulped as he began to lean in. He closed his eyes and she followed his lead. They moved closer until their lips met. Y/N felt her stomach erupt in butterflies as his lips moved against hers. He moved his right hand to cup her face as his left held the candy.

She wasn't sure what to do but she moved her hands to lay flat on his stomach as she lost herself in the kiss. He tasted of cotton candy and his lips were soft.

She waited until he began to pull away before she did. She kept her hands on his stomach as she opened her eyes and met his brown ones.

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then Eddie smiled and walked around to open the door for her. She smiled and got into the van. Her fingers touched her lips softly as he closed the door and headed to the driver's side.

The ride was full of laughter and easy conversation. She couldn't remember why she was nervous in the first place. Everything with him felt right and they clicked well.

She felt a little bummed that the night was over as he pulled back into her driveway.

"I had a lot of fun. Thank you," she said. Her voice was so quiet that Eddie barely heard her.

"Thank you for saying yes," he said with a smile, turning to face her. She opened the door but before she got out, she leaned over and softly touched his chin. She slowly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It felt even better than the first one.

She pulled away leaving him wanting more.

"Goodnight, Eddie," she got out of the car and closed the door. Eddie was fast to get out of his van and follow her up to her door.

"Can we do this again, sometime?" He asked, she turned around to look at him.

"Absolutely"

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[hiraethwrote]

i prefer it, actually

summary: after being called in the middle of the night, megumi comes over to take care of you while you're drunk

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, f!reader, sorority!reader, pure fluff, intoxicated reader, party but mostly going on in the background, throwing up, aged up characters

word count: 2.2k

“Hello?” Megumi answered the phone in a confused haze, the blaring ringtone waking him up from his deep sleep.

“Megumi? I think you should come down here.” The voice that greeted him wasn’t one he recognised, and his confusion only strengthened when he checked the caller ID to see a picture of you.

“Who is this?” He asked, slowly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he sat up in his bed.

In the background, he heard muffled music interrupted by a loud gag. “It’s Kasumi.”

Kasumi? There was something scarily familiar about that name, and after a few silent moments of thought he connected the dots, remembering she was a part of your sorority.

And as the pieces fell together, the concern started to fill his body, serving almost as an alarm clock as his sleepiness become nothing but a distant memory in a matter of seconds. “Is she okay?”

“Well…” Kasumi trailed off on the other end of the phone before another horrible gag interrupted the line. “She’s just really drunk.”

His shoulders dared relax just an tad. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he sighed before another sickening sound he only assumed was you hunched over a toilet bowl. Some of his worry had settled when he knew you weren’t in any immediate danger at least, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again until he was certain you were safely in bed.

As he promised, fifteen minutes later he walked through the door of your sorority, the party still in full swing as he bullied himself through the thick crowd to get to the stairs.

God, he couldn’t stand this. Too many people shoved into a house where the mere concept of personal space was long abandoned. Obnoxious music that was so loud you were unable to hear your own thoughts — and not to mention how incredibly annoying people got when drinking.

Therefore he could not for the life of him fathom why you loved it so much. Only a handful of times had he accompanied you to parties like this, and you always managed to have a good time. That might be the only thing he has ever found himself liking with these things; seeing how much you enjoyed yourself.

So for the most part, he just decided to stay in when you wanted to go out so he wouldn’t ruin your evening by moping around, constantly checking the time to see when it was acceptable for him to go to bed. He didn’t want to be that boyfriend who stopped you from doing the things you liked just because he didn’t want to.

When he reached your room, his head cleared up as the people and music from downstairs was shut out, transforming into muffled background noise through the floor. He placed three knocks on your bathroom door before it creaked open, spotting the blue haired girl he assumed had to be Kasumi. “Hey,” he whispered, leaning against the doorframe as she opened the door further.

“Thank god you’re here. She’s been begging for you for like two hours,” she groaned, not hesitating to walk out of the bathroom so she could return to the festivities. "I think she's pretty much finished in there, just tired now."

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for taking care of her,” he said awkwardly as she was about to exit your room.

“Of course,” she smiled sweetly. “She would have done the same for me,” and she was gone.

He turned back around, pushing the door fully open to reveal you just in the position he had excepted. Your hair was tied back in a ponytail, makeup slightly smudged from throwing up for who knew how long, a constant little shiver running through your body.

“How you hanging in there?” He asked, a small amused smirk creeping up on his face.

Lifting your head from where it was resting on your arm, you turned to look at him, face lighting up the second your eyes landed on him. “Megumi, you’re here!” You nearly cheered, both hands immediately extending towards him, needy for him to come join you on the floor.

He does as you wished, his hands instinctively stroking away the stray hairs that hung in front of your face, behind your ears. “Feeling okay?”

“Better now that you’re here!” You slurred, flashing your teeth at him in a huge grin. The annoyance and frustration caused by the party below was quickly forgotten at the sight of you beaming at him. Even though you looked tired, appearance tainted by the evening, it did nothing to smother beauty. “I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” You were clearly still intoxicated, eyelids droopy as you mumbled sentences he could barely make out.

“A little blue birdie told me you needed me, so,” he shrugged, as if it was nothing to think about.

“Awe, baby,” you squealed as you fell forward, head landing on his chest. “You’re too good for me,” you sighed, melting into his body, the heat radiating off of him soothing the shiver present in your own body.

A gentle hand finds your upper arm to give it a light squeeze. “Do you think you can get up?” He felt the movement of your head agree to his request. He stands up first, grabbing ahold of your clammy hands and pulling you to your feet, instantly lacing his arm around your waist when you nearly fell over the second you were stood up. “Easy there,” he chuckled quietly.

“I’m fine!” You rushed in a high pitched tone, grabbing onto him for support, feeling the room spin a lot more now than when you were leaned over the toilet. When you weren’t nuzzled up against his warm chest anymore, the tremble quickly found its way back to your muscles. “‘m cold.”

“You’re cold?” He asked for confirmation. You only nodded, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout. “Okay,” he whispered to himself before letting go of you by the sink before walking into your room to get you something.

“No, not that one!” You whined when he came back with one of your hoodies in his hands, earning you a confused frown from your boyfriend. “Want yours.”

He just rolled his eyes, acting as if he genuinely thought you were being a nuisance — but in reality, his heart did a little skip at the fact that you so persistently wanted to wear something of his instead.

At the foot of your bed he spotted a familiar hoodie, where you’d thrown it after waking up. Whenever the two of you didn’t spend the night together, you made sure to have a piece of his clothing nearby so he didn’t feel so terribly far away.

Could you be considered a clingy girlfriend? Probably — but you preferred the term devoted.

“Thank youuuuu,” you cooed as he simply tilted his head to signal for you to raise your arms. You happily obliged and he pulled it over your head, a satisfied hum slipping out as you hugged your arms around yourself to take in the familiar scent of your boyfriend.

Without saying anything, he grabbed your toothbrush with one hand, and your face with the other to hold it still, fingers softly digging into your plush cheeks. He finds it surprisingly unproblematic to help you brush your teeth, suspecting your drunken state might actually have served as help, paralysing your usual restlessness.

He gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to your room again, but was abruptly halted when you decided to stop dead in your tracks. With pinched eyebrows, he turned to you.

“Babe, I can’t go to bed with my makeup on.” You let go of his hand to retreat them into the sleeves of the sweater, hoping the warmth it usually provided would find you soon.

“Okay?” He asked, nervously moving his hand to his neck, rubbing it slightly as he waited for you to give him the right instructions.

“There’s makeup wipes under the sink,” you said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered under his breath and went to get the wipes. When he returned, he nearly stumbled over your limp body. During his short trip to the bathroom, you had suddenly decided to just lay down on your back in the middle of the floor. With another sigh, he positioned himself on his knees by your head before carefully lifting it into his lap.

He started with your eyes, lightly rubbing the wet wipe across your eyelids. It didn’t take long before he managed to draw a drunken giggle from your lips. “What?”

“You’re so gentle,” you opened your eyes to stare up at him, thinking he was upside down but you couldn’t be too sure as the room was still spinning. The frown — you once had thought was a chronic condition — was very much present.

“I don’t wanna pop your eyes out.”

You only laughed. “You’re not gonna pop my eyes out. C’mon, you can put a little more pressure.” He let out a long and stressed exhale before going back to work, grimacing in fear as he did as you’d told him.

Eventually, the makeup came off, but you continued to lay completely still. You kept your head in his lap, eyes closed and a small smile ever present on your face.

“Did you have fun tonight?” His voice was soft, barely audible — especially with the banging from the bass downstairs seeping through the floor.

“Meh,” you said simply as you shrugged.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” you breathed as you open your eyes to meet his gaze again. “You weren’t there.” He snorted, slightly rolling his eyes at your statement, believing you were only lying to make him feel better about coming all the way down to your sorority in the middle of the night.

“Yeah, right. How much did you have to drink?”

“No, Megs, I’m serious,” you giggled as your hands acted on their own, raising to cup his cheeks. “There’s only so much fun I can have when you’re not here.”

He felt his cheeks heat against your hands — you didn’t seem to notice however. He always thought it strange, that even after the two of you became official, it didn’t take a lot of effort from you to bring that redness to his face, a colour that had only grown familiar to his features after getting to know you.

“Sure, so fun having me sulk at your heels all evening.” There’s nothing but sarcasm in his tone as he continued to try and hide his flushed cheeks.

“I don’t mind,” you said softly as you gaze directly into his eyes, his blush only amplifying. “I prefer it, actually.”

His soft eyes roamed your face, lips slightly parted in awe. He still didn’t understand how you, who was so sociable, always the life of the party, beyond stunning, had decided he was the one you wanted to be with. And time and time again you confirmed it to him that it was for real.

Without much more thought, he simply leaned forward to press a tender kiss on your lips, your lips curling up in a giddy smirk. You were unable to contain yourself, breaking the kiss by hiding your face behind your hands, strangling the sweet giggles spilling out of you.

“You still make me nervous,” you said in between the cute sounds that was like music to his ears.

“I make you nervous?” He scoffed. “Alright, you’re clearly still drunk. Time for bed.” He gently tapped your shoulder, trying to get you to lift from his lap.

“You can never take a compliment,” you grumbled, wearing the frown that was more often seen painted on his eyebrows. He didn’t entertain your complaints, merely helping you up before leading you to your bed.

When he was about to turn around, your hand grabbed a hold of his wrist, surprised by the strength in your clutch. “No, you gotta stay here tonight!”

“I’m not leaving,” he laughed. “I’m just going to get you some water,” he said as he grabbed your hand to force you to let go.

“Oh.”

He can’t help but shake his head a little. You were probably the only drunk person he liked — of course, he was biased. During the parties, you were so outgoing, in a way he always admired. And then, when it was time to turn in for the night, you became so incredibly cute.

After having fetched the glass, he returned to see you wrapped up in the covers, having pulled the hood over your head and nuzzled further into the clothing.

A content huff left his nose as he put the glass down on your nightstand before stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers, then he carefully climbed over you. He knew he’d only receive grumpy grunts of annoyance if he tried to shove you to sleep closest to the wall.

The second he closed his eyes, he felt you snake your arm tightly around his torso and burying your face against his back, wanting to consume as much of his body heat as possible. Two light taps on your hand caused you to loosen your grip before he wiggled to turn around so you were now burying your head in his chest instead.

A deep, much needed, breath filled your lungs before you simply melted into him as his arms wrapped around you, humming in satisfaction as his hands slowly began to rub your scalp.

tags (taglist is open) @sad-darksoul, @nyahctrl, @ssetsuka

a/n the layout for these drabbles and short entries will be a little different, but yeah hope you like it. oh, and if you wanna be in the taglist, just lemme know <3 - btw, all warnings will be in the masterpost at all times

reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated plagiarism not authorized

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: implied age gap

divider credit: div1nepetal

i just know that logan says something along the lines of “nice and easy now” when you attempt to sit down on his cock cowgirl style for the first time ever.

you’re obviously eager to get to the good part, writhing and wiggling your hips with a sense of urgency as you hurry to lower yourself onto him, and he’s just this solid epitome of almost cocky assurance, body warm and firm and grounded wherever your grabby hands decide to touch it.

he’s not exactly patient about the entire thing — the animal within him just loves to claw its way out to the surface whenever he’s distracted by pleasure — but he definitely can hold out for longer than you can. he’s been around for far longer compared to you, after all; has indulged in his share of fun way more often despite being a self-proclaimed loner.

so he’s steady where you’re frantic, calm where you’re wild with need. he’s knowledgeable; he holds you by the hips with a firm grip and slows you down when you try to forcefully take all of him all at once. whispers crude praise into the side of your neck when he deems you’re finally able to open up enough to let him sink into you comfortably. calls you sweetheart and other sugary pet names as he inhales the scent of your sweat then, the scent of ‘i’m trying my damn hardest to impress you, mister logan sir’ that laces it, the foolishly youthful desperation behind it.

he fucks you slowly at first. nice and deep, fingers idly tracing your spine, your sides, the small of your back every so often. caressing, appreciating. he takes his time with stretching you and splitting you open, relishing the way your pussy squeezes around his dick in answer each time he bumps that precious little sweet spot inside you. it even makes your thighs quiver.

then it builds up — so effortlessly that you can’t possibly pinpoint the moment that switch flicks inside his head. his calloused hand moves up to the back of your neck as he smoothly picks up the pace, squeezing it surprisingly harsher than you expected, making you tense up and let out a little gasp of startlement. his teeth drag over your naked skin and your walls get hotter with friction and thrill. wetter. he angles your head back as you moan, yanking you by the hair just to get you to be louder.

the bite he gives you hurts in the best way possible. he’s rougher. greedier. primal.

you may be on top of him, but you’ve failed to notice that he is still the one that’s in charge as he times his thrusts in whichever way he thinks best. and you don’t know how it happened but now he’s literally pounding into you, making you bounce on his fat cock, ignorant to the little squeals and mewls you’re letting out in response. forcing you to cling onto him uselessly, arms wrapped around his neck, grabbing handfuls of his shirt because you simply don’t know what else to do.

and you’re drooling, you’re fucking drooling onto his shoulder when you cum from sheer overstimulation. trembling all over, with your toes curled to the brink of pain.

so much for taking it nice and easy.

[yan-est]

I love love love love loveee your househusband hcs :o UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER LIKE REALLY GOOD! BUT ANYWAYS (UR AMAZING) HOW DID HE GREW UP? WAS HE WEALTHY GROWING UP?

stop im giggling like THANK YOU ANON!! 🤍 UR SO SWEET and bc of that i'm making this a teensy bit longer than it should be

neways, pretty sure he was a loner growing up buuuut at least he had you :) based on the warnings below idk if that should be a good thing or

cw: creep behavior, mentions of stalking and homicide

yan!househusband was filthy rich; total trust fund baby, spoiled kid, deep pockets. he might've looked like he had what he wanted and needed in life, but god, he would kill for a second out of his parents' agonizing, suffocating hold.

to distract himself while growing up in his mother's private estates, he tried everything. doesn't mean he was good at it though, if anything, he was on the mediocre side, but hey, he was a fast learner. that skill comes in handy when he finally met you.

and to be honest, he didn't expect falling this hard. sure, you were nice, and smart, and you had what he didn't have in his childhood— freedom. he could've chosen anyone else, he could've fallen for anyone else, but when he unconsciously drew you on the margins of his textbook one day, oh, that sealed your fate.

you were stuck on his mind, and he preferred to keep you in there.

the doodles started small. first, he drew you looking at the board. then he started drawing your side profile, your hair, then your portrait. then your pencil case, your favorite snack, your shoes, your uniform, your thighs, your house, your bed, and… everything down there.

he had to buy a new textbook. the old one was stained and it reeked of him.

he was obsessed.

you, the epitome of his wishes, his lifelong dream to be free, was within his grasp. after being caged by his mother and ignored by his father for so long, you were the breath of fresh air that he yearned to inhale.

you were everything he ever wanted. and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you get away.

it began with a dinner conversation. high school graduation was in a week, and on the rare occasion where they all gathered together, he and his parents sat around the candle-lit dining table. they were discussing his future, told him to pursue the path they did, and everything was fine!

it's just that… you weren't mentioned in his parents' plans, and that put him off. and as delusional as he may be, he knew the reality of what they'd think of you.

so when they mentioned setting up a good marriage partner for him, he was glad he laced their meals with cyanide beforehand.

the whole dinner blurred by into moments. he doesn't remember much of it, and he has already buried his past along with his parents. what matters is that he pulled some strings, inherited millions, bought you a promise ring, and planned to provide for you.

he has a whole plan in motion, from his career to finances, and one word from you will forever—

oh, um… you want a stay at home partner after college?

good thing yan!househusband looks fuckable in an apron!

[flippinpancakes64]

Uhm, I was wondering if you could do Cullens x quiet, insomniac! Reader who is silent and ignores people, but when someone makes a single comment about the cullens, they snap? And what would be the cullens reactions?

The Cullens with a reader who defends them

This ask is so cute I love it omg

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy

Edward:

He hears what people think about him and his family all the time

People think his family is weird

They think he's a loner

It's nothing new to him when he hears people whispering at the lunch table next to them

What IS new, though, is you whipping around in your chair to give those two girls an earful

He just sits there stunned as you throw insult after insult at them in HIS name

He is so shocked

And in love

He kisses you right then and there

He tries to tell you that you don't need to do that, but you don't listen obvs

He can tell that you keep defending him from the thoughts he hears from other people

He's not gonna stop you though

He will tell you that he doesn't mind what people think about him

You don't care

Alice:

She doesn't even have an opportunity to get a vision about what's gonna happen

She's chattering on and on in the back of the class as you sit next to her, silently listening

She's talking about the weather, about her new dress, her new shoes, a show she started watching last night, and everything in between

The classroom is mostly silent besides her as everyone completes their work

Suddenly one of the boys sitting directly in front of you two leans over to his friend and says "Damn, does that weirdo Cullen bitch ever shut up?"

You act so quickly she doesn't even have the chance to stop you

You stand up and start yelling at the boys, throwing every insult in the world their way

The teacher has to tell you to stop, and Alice pulls you out of the classroom to calm down

You start apologizing, saying that it must be because you're so sleep deprived

She just smiles and gives you the fattest kiss ever

Going forward, she does not stop you

She just loves that you love her so much you would be willing to step out of your comfort zone for her

Jasper:

You two are split up into different teams in gym class

He's standing across the gym and you can see him doing his deep-breathing exercises to keep himself from hurting anyone

He's staring into space, not really at any one particular thing

A girl leans over to you and whispers "Oh my gosh, look at the Cullen freak over there... he's so weird."

You throw your dodgeball at her face as hard as you can

She has to go down to the nurse, and you get sent to the principal's office, Jasper comes with you

On the way there, he starts asking a million questions

What happened, why did you do that, are you okay

You tell him about what she said, how you just couldn't let her get away with that

He tries so hard and you know that, it wasn't fair of her to make fun of him

He stops and just looks at you, before pulling you into a huge hug

He doesn't say anything for a while, until you hear him whisper a "thank you"

You get suspended for two days

Jasper stays home with you <3

Rosalie:

She doesn't give a shit what people think of her on a personal level

Like genuinely she couldn't care less

And you're always so calm and quiet that she never expected this

She's walking through the hallways with you and she accidentally bumps into someone

Or in her words, someone bumps into her

She shoots them a nasty look and tells them to watch where they're going

And they call her a bitch

And you go off

She doesn't tell you to stop

Eventually a teacher has to pull you away

You are fuming

Rosalie pulls you aside and helps you calm down

"You know, you don't need to defend me.. but that was really hot ;)"

She won't stop you in the future either

She loves this side of you

And she loves that it's because of her

Emmett:

It wasn't particularly directed towards him

Some kid just made a general statement about the Cullens being weird

He heard it but didn't say anything

But then you stood up and angrily told them to mind their own business

They start arguing back, asking why you even care

It's getting heated, so Emmett steps in

He tells them that if they ever insult or argue with his partner again he'll rip their heads off of their bodies <3

He takes you home after that

It doesn't matter if the school day just started

He takes you home to let you cool down

He thinks it's so fun

I feel like he'd love a little firecracker S/O

And again, he doesn't stop you

Esme:

You were out running errands with her

Alice needed her dress picked up and she would be in school until the laundromat closed

So that meant Esme had to go get it

And you went with her obviously

While you two are waiting for the attendant to get the dress, you can hear the two employees talking in the back

"Hey do you have the dress pickup for Alice?"

"Hm... Oh I see it... Alice... Cullen? As in that weird ass family that moved in not too long ago?"

"Yeah, I got two of them up front. A pair of freaks, I tell ya."

You see red

You can tell by Esme's face she can hear them too

The guy comes back with the dress and puts on his best smile, acting as if he wasn't just insulting you and your girlfriend

Just as Esme's about to pay and give him a tip, you take the cash from her hand

You give him the exact amount for the dress and hold on to the remaining money

"This would have been your tip if you hadn't been a dick"

And then you grab Esme, Alice's dress, and storm out

She helps you calm down

In the future, she tries not to let you do that

They don't want to draw attention to themselves

And she's worried you might get yourself hurt one of these days

Carlisle:

He wasn't even there when this happened

You were at the school with the rest of the Cullen children when some jackass started insulting Carlisle

He had been injured a week ago and Carlisle gave him the medication and instructions to make it better, but he wasn't following them

So you went up and punched him in his bad shoulder obviously

He did punch you back, though

Carlisle swore his heart stopped when Alice and Japser ran into his clinic, you being supported by their arms

The guy had clocked you square in the face, a bruise was already forming on your eye and you're 90 percent sure you had a concussion

As you sat in his exam room, getting checked over, he gave you a lecture

He can take care of himself, and you don't need to put yourself in danger to protect him

But he does appreciate the gesture

After he's done patching you up, he gives you a kiss

Vampire! Bella:

She's not completely used to being considered one of the Cullens

So when a kid at school starts talking about that, she doesn't even register that he's talking about her

You do though

You stand up and start yelling at him, telling him to stop talking about your girlfriend like that

Lowkey she joins in on it

"You were talking about me? Mind repeating that?"

She loves that you want to stick up for her

Before she moved to Forks and met Edward there wasn't really anyone who would do that

But she insists that you don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable

She knows that you prefer to keep to yourself

[traincat]

hey!

I recently made a post about wanting to understand the concept of Spideytorch more, and was directed to your blog! If it's not too much of an ask, could you break down their relationship for me?

Sure! I can do that. I'm going to refer back to your post just as a jumping off point -- Spideytorch is definitely, 100% a comics-based thing. Prior to the upcoming Fantastic Four MCU film, the film rights for both characters have never been held by the same company, and "crossover" films are very much a product of the MCU, although ironically Andrew Garfield did once say he wanted Michael B Jordan, who played Johnny in the 2015 Fantastic Four film, to play his Peter's love interest.

Thank you for your service, Andrew.

But while it is comics-based, it's a very different scenario than Spideypool, where the comics are very much based on their popularity as a duo in fandom. I'm not a Spideypool fan, just as like a disclaimer, but as someone interested in the symbiotic relationship between fandom and superhero comics, Spideypool is really interesting because their popularity came first -- they got that team up comic because they were already popular in fandom, they didn't become popular in fandom because they had the team up comic. So it's a really interesting look at how fan activity influences the connections comic characters have. That's not the case with Spideytorch.

(I'm not saying one of those things is inherently better than the other, but since you mentioned Spideypool and their team up comic in your post, I thought it made for an interesting comparison.)

Peter and Johnny literally meet in Amazing Spider-Man #1, back in 1963. The two premier teen heroes of the day, they have a lot of early interaction because they played well off each other -- Peter, a broke loner, was often jealous of Johnny's fame and money, whereas Johnny bemoaned his girl problems compared to chick magnet Peter. (Johnny's girlfriend at the time literally asked him why he couldn't be more like Peter.) They're both pretty big personalities, so there was a lot of pigtail pulling in the early days, but even when they argued there was always a sense that they genuinely liked each other deep down. For Peter, who didn't have friends in the business, Johnny was someone he could rely on, and for Johnny -- who just, like, did not have friends at all until he got to college -- Spider-Man was a peer, someone he looked up to and admired.

(ASM #3)

(ASM #8)

(Strange Tales Annual #2 -- this is the first appearance of Johnny and Peter's "usual place," the Statue of Liberty. Iconic.)

(ASM #19)

(ASM #127)

As Johnny and Peter grew up, the frequency of their team ups faded a little, but their lives have always intersected. In some ways, they've run in parallel. They went to college at the same time, got married at the same time. (Peter's marriage was solid until he sold it to the devil; Johnny's faltered after a decade because sometimes you think you marry someone but they're actually a shapeshifting alien from outerspace who was sent to kill your family. Peter is one of the very few people who Johnny told about that in the aftermath.) Peter unmasked to Johnny, told him his identity, one of the very few people he's done that for. When Johnny "died" (he got better), he left Peter his place on the Fantastic Four. And then, when Johnny came back from the dead, the first person he saw on the other side was Peter.

(FF #1)

(ASM #657, titled Torch Song)

(Fantastic Four #601)

They've lived together, fought together, shared their lives with each other. They trust each other, bone deep, despite their squabbles and differences. It's always been a love connection, however you define that love. It's a connection that has existed from 1963 until today, across multiple fictional universes and continuities. For me, the appeal of them has always been not just their chemistry but also their history.

Also they're just a lot of fun.

(FF #17)

(Fantastic Four v5 #14)

I have a long list of important comics for them in chronological order here, if you want to read more: https://traincat.tumblr.com/post/123691883369/so-ive-only-recently-gotten-into-spidertorch

I hope that helps clear up the history a little bit!

[comfortless]

Everything you write leaves me breathless <333

Sorry in advance for my English

I was thinking about König, (maybe in an ancient rome/Greek settling) being so alone and desperate for connection that he turns to religion: one day he's walking in the woods, deep in thought, when he finds an abandoned temple. The inside is small but lavish, with a life sized statue of what must be its goddess. He sees this lovely sculpture, abandoned and alone and sees himself in her. He becomes a dedicated, fanatic and soso lovestruck worshipper. Unknownly to him his goddess, woken by his prayers, has been watching him and listening to him. One day while he's praying in front of her her statue moves and talks and now his deity is in front of him. Looks like he has an opportunity to worship her like she deserves ;)

granting you ten million kissies for this prompt and your sweet words! your English is perfect, little wisp! <3 also… giving me an excuse to write more loner/loner and mutual worship?! you have spoken to my heart…

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical/myth au; vague time period, brief mentions of violence, fluff, pining, not very explicit smut, mutual worship.

The spirit of the temple feels disorienting, though the architecture is a still, white marble, the floor riddled with leaves and dirt, creeping up the sides of the building as if river water had washed the entire thing ashore… Something feels very alive here, feathered out on the air, a pulse of thunder, the breeze beneath dove’s wings, enthused and yawning. Hungry.

It only becomes more apparent the closer he steps to the statue.

She is unlike any he has ever seen before, carved with the same skill, but so much smaller than the other statues in their temples, so much more lifelike that he almost thinks to greet her. She’s been painted unlike most, a perfect vision bathed in color where she stands out amidst the sea of white and green surrounding her. The temple has not been stained with blood, no offering strewn before her bare feet, left for the rot or dragged away by the dainty hands of this very goddess. No maidens sit in prayer, no men lower there swords to her…

There’s nothing to tell him just who she is, either.

Despite his better judgment, his hand does find her side, a swift draw up from the vision of her thigh peeking from her robe upward to curl over her hip. Her beauty is unmatched, impossible to describe and the call seems almost tangible, shrieking at him in whispers to bend a knee and let her in. So, he does. He prays to her in the silence, alternating between whispers and his own thoughts.

He tells her of his struggles: a soldier brought in from a small tribe up north, robbed from his parents as a boy, how all he knew now were the Roman ways yet could rarely comprehend their customs and deities. Maybe she could offer him some counsel or solace…? Make the weight of his blade feel less heavy as he struck down men that could very well be his own brothers? Give him something to return to when old wounds reopened and he bled, hurt with no one but himself to tend to his heart or his injuries.

The goddess only blesses him with silence: the wind does not pick up outside, there is no disembodied laughter, no sudden thought of an offering or new words to speak to her. She is void of an answer just as the very temple she waits inside is empty of all else.

This does not dissuade him from returning.

Returning to the city after another battle some months later, his first thought is to return to her, to leave the things he’s taken from dead men at her feet, to paint the temple with the blood lingering on his weapon. There is honey, wine, meat and jewelry made of stones from the sea. There is brittle, dried flakes of blood polished from his blade and left to settle onto the floor like the leaves of late autumn. He presents these things to her with a grin, thinking that assuredly this goddess would call back to him then, grant him with a love so consuming that all of the evasion and emptiness cursed upon him would be untwined.

He kneels before her statue, presses his cheek to her thigh, sighs content at the feel of cold marble against the ever-burning of his flesh, gazes up at her like an adoring dog.

Assuredly, if this temple were built for a being that did exist at all she would know just how she was all that this lonesome soldier had, would know the way that he loved her and waited with bated breath and heartstrings pulled taut for her to love him in turn. A greedy, begging muzzle that utters his prayers, words he’s never spoken to anyone whether deity or mortal, only to her in the quiet of the forest.

It’s not madness that provokes him, but the gentleness of her face and the tender look in her eyes, an expression that no other had ever offered to him, no one but this little forgotten goddess. Whether pitying or loving, he did not know. It was only enough to keep him returning: for many days, his path from the city led straight to her feet, even some nights were spent lying upon her floor, finding peace finally being able to sleep next to something apart from lonely walls.

The sun rises and sets each day where he sits and speaks to her as though she were a living, breathing woman. Occasionally he reads aloud to her in the stillness, cheekily tells her when another goddess’ name is brought up within the lines of poetry that they could never hope to compare.

It’s ridiculous when he does not even know what purpose she serves, but this silent figure is his only companion, the only thing that sets his heart ablaze and mind focused in battle because above all else, he has to return to her. Though she can not share his words, he knows somehow that she shares in his loneliness.

Finally, he thinks to ask her the question that has been burning at the tip of his tongue for weeks and months. One, that he has tried to hold back, display a patience that he lacks. It’s after a night of sleeping on cold marble, an ache in his neck from its hardness and his own refraining from bringing a cushion from his own home in his desperation to return to her.

“Why won’t you speak?,” he asks, somber as he makes his way to leave the temple, only halting in place to cast her a fragile look from over his shoulder. He has read the epics, heard the stories and seen the blessings of other deities… Yet no matter what he does or how often he tethers himself to her leg and dotes upon her, she still meets his devotion with nothing but her silence in return.

König is left with the thought that his gifts are not enough, that he, himself, is not enough, even as her sole devotee. To keep his mind preoccupied, he keeps to the city for a time. The bed is cold, the people still see him as a barbaric outsider, and the horrible coil wound around his heart only seems to tighten its grip further. He feels as though he has left a part of himself out there in the forest within the four chalked walls of her temple.

This loneliness does not feel like one he is forced to swallow down, it feels like a vicious sort of ache, the twisting of a dagger beneath ribs to sink in and steal away what little of a life he does have.

He returns to her the following night, with a furrowed brow and a grave look upon his face. There’s an intent to demand she free him of her, that this longing finally pass, but as his sandals reach the entrance to the temple, those thoughts fall away from his mind like droplets of rain, a cool drizzle that begins to fall outside the very moment he is sheltered.

The statue— the goddess moves.

She tilts her head and inspects him fondly, the perfect mouth he has envisioned speaking to him so many times prior tilts upward in the gentlest smile as her bare feet move to carry her body forward.

“A test,” she explains as though answering his question from only the past day, almost saddened by her own words as her gaze lowers to the space between them.

König’s heart does not roar then, it only melts with the knowledge that someone like her has been left alone for so, so very long that she felt the need to prove to herself that he would return to her side. He would. Time and time again he would. When she raises her head to look him in the eye, her own clouded and misty, he only silently prays that she could see such a vow upon his face.

“I am worthy then?,” he questions, forcing himself to remain rigidly in place despite the call- the urge, to circle her, just once, drop at her feet to then feel her pulse beneath his fingertips. Anything. Even an assurance would be reward enough, but there is always a greed in the hearts of men, one he feels burning a hole through his very being even now.

Her lips press to a line and her gaze seems faraway, lost in her own thoughts that must be as mighty as Olympus itself. After a time, she only answers in a soft whisper, “It is I who am unworthy of you.”

All discordance in his chest pulls to a halt at this, all apprehension and sadness are whisked away when she instead comes to kneel before him. She curls her arms around his leg, presses her cheek to his thigh as he had done so many times before. The goddess gazes up at him with not just affection… but reverence, as though he were the strongest warrior of myth, deserving of even the love of something only as ethereal and sweet as she could provide.

His breath catches for a mere moment before he lowers himself at her side. The stares exchanged from both are full of an unspoken wonderment, all of the things that words alone would fail to speak in truth.

He waits out the rain there, sat beside her with the air surrounding them charged with such a great and unspoken affection that even Venus would taste a bitter envy on her tongue should she pass by to see.

She tells him she can not recall what she was the goddess of… or if she was ever truly any goddess at all. The marble surrounding her was put up for a purpose, but she’s never seen the Elysian Fields or climbed Olympus on her own. Her memories are scattered blurs, and she confesses that she feels tired when she tries to parse things together in a way that he will understand.

He listens while he tends to her by offering the honey and dried meat left in offering for her here, then fetches fresh water from the stream that brooks several yards away and returns to her side with a face both damp and flushed.

König tells her of his life too, how during every battle since stumbling upon this sacred place he has kept her in mind; he has no wife to return to, no other women to bed, that since their meeting his life has become hers. He confesses he had the intention of returning only to force a curse upon this madness that had enveloped him, but… he could never have brought himself to do so, even if she had not appeared to him warm and breathing.

Her laugh then could have prompted waves of flowers to bloom and birds to sing in tune, whimsical and so precious he only begins to feel himself fall, truly. Not out of sheer desperation, but with genuine affection.

When her exhaustion does take her, she does not mind the way his arm curls around her middle to tuck her body closer to his own. The goddess has no fury within her, only mirrors his own feelings with a fluttering of lashes and a soft sigh.

So she sleeps, pulled close to him like a lover rather than a stranger. When dawn breaks, when König knows he’s to be called back to train and fight with the other soldiers, have dull talks about what land to cross and take for their own next, she tells him she will wait there for his return.

He can not concentrate as well on his training this day. The plans for future wars and battles do not send flurries, hot excitement through him. The world is an endless gray, reflected above with darkened clouds threatening further rain. There is only one place he wishes to be, one that yearns for him more than his own home or the women waiting on the street for coins the other men readily supply. When one, a native Roman, does ask him why he does not just venture to the brothel to put himself in better spirits, König only grits his teeth to still his hand from quieting him eternally. These men knew nothing of the love he feels, and certainly they didn’t deserve to.

The temple is no different from how he found it the night prior. The goddess sits with her hands curled in her lap, smiling just as fondly at him as she had before. His heart shatters at the thought that she had sat there waiting for him in such a way all day. He swears to her that he will have a proper bed made for her, bring her the softest of furs and cushions stuffed with downy feathers to lie upon. For now his offering is only fruit and wine, things that she shares with him while she shushes his concerns with quiet words and gratitude that he had returned.

She lowers herself again before him after pulling her robe free and lying it upon the floor. It is no proper bedding at all, but she swears that it is enough, that his own warmth is just enough for her to be sated and comfortable. His head swims when she kisses his thigh, drags her lips up from his knee to rest there with that reverent look in her eye. Mortals coupling with deities was not unheard of, but to think it could happen to him…

She is a goddess. How is he supposed to… How could he ever dirty her with himself? He thinks to refuse her before she tugs away the barrier of fabric between them and takes him into her mouth. Stunned, he only watches her, feels her in a way he has never felt a woman before until he finds his voice again.

“Lie down,” he breathes, shaky and tentative as he rests his hand upon her cheek. She complies, giddy and content when she’s splayed out on the white robe beneath her, legs parting immediately and her arms reaching upward to invite him into her hold.

There’s no tact when he lies atop her, feels the warmth of her thighs around him and her arms curled over his neck. His forehead is pressed to her own when togetherness is found, and when she sighs so soft as she envelops him in full, his mouth descends upon her own.

She doesn’t praise him, doesn’t need to in words, because the muffled sounds and cries that leave her lips are more than enough to spear him onward. König, however… he babbles ceaselessly, overwhelmed and overcome by such a profound joy, he can not keep himself from reciting every word that comes to mind, whether vile or pure.

“My goddess,” he whispers into her hair, eyes half-lidded and dazed with each shallow thrust. “We could have had this for a season… you have made me wait so long, hm?”

The way she feels is unmatched, he thinks, when her breathing shudders and she only seems to constrict him further. To think he could bring a goddess to ruin… the grin that crosses his face when he pushes his head against her neck is bordering on both ecstatic and cruel.

“I will give you a demigod,” he hisses against her throat, not at all subtle about just how far he was willing to go to keep her here. With him. More than Olympus, she belonged beneath him, and the tremor that wracks her form then is all of the confirmation he would need.

She sobs his name when the tension becomes too much to bear, fingernails graze the flesh of his shoulders as she shudders, falls into such bliss that her words of praise come incoherent and weak. He follows her to a saccharine abyss with a guttural groan.

The aftermath is softer than any other moment he has shared with her. There are an abundance of kisses pressed between them, littered across her flesh and his own with whispers that leave his mind cloudy. Her worship is subtle by comparison to his own, coming in honeyed stares and such words he would never dare to repeat, no lowly poet deserved to ever hear them, their voices could never compare to her own.

The goddess holds him close, bumps his nose with her own and makes a promise; she tells him for as long as he shall live that this temple was as much his home as it were his own. That even when this body of his does die, she will seek him out in the Elysian Fields, lie at his feet as he had done her own; that no matter what may come, they will never be apart.

[batmanlovesnirvana]

| BATTINSON HEADCANONS ! 🦇

A/N : old post from two years ago, but I’ve changed and added a few things since then

my boy is awkward as hell, but somehow, not at all—it really just depends on who he’s with and the vibe of the moment

sassy when he feels like it, but most of the time? he’s a total nonverbal enigma—half the time, all you’re getting are grunts and the occasional raised eyebrow

specially if you’re still just a stranger to him, or even just a friend

he’s ridiculously stubborn—dug-in-heels, won’t-budge-an-inch stubborn. and, of course, he inherited every ounce of it from his darling mama...

had a Star Wars phase when he was 9

he could’ve talked to you all day back then if you’d asked—about every character, every layer they had, his favorite, and why

I think his fave would’ve prob be Luke

but secretly, he’d have a soft spot for Darth Vader too—not for the evil he represents, but for the complexity of his character

he was definitely spoiled—lived the life of a prince, no doubt about it. but his parents made sure to keep him grounded, always lecturing him to be thankful for what he had and to value everything, no matter how small

he’s the last person to complain about anything, especially when it comes to material stuff

If your apartment’s not exactly perfect or if you don’t have all the fancy things, don’t feel embarrassed—he couldn’t care less about that

Bruce isn’t the type to judge people for their circumstances

what matters to him is who you are, not what you have

he traveled a lot and saw poverty up close. he didn’t just witness it; he experienced it and used it as a way to train and push himself

so I think he’d insist that you don’t let his wealth define you or make you feel small. he’d want you to focus on who you are, not what he has

but he’s still a billionaire

and sometimes it shows

Like if he takes you somewhere, he might be like,

“That place wasn’t good, not what I wanted for you, their steak was too dry”

or “The service was way below expectations.”

it’s not that he’s trying to flex, but his standards have been shaped by a life of luxury and privilege.

even if he doesn’t mean to, it can come off like he’s out of touch with the more everyday experiences.

listen, I’m pretty sure he was that kid in middle school—the one everyone liked. Popular, friendly, Shy, and effortlessly cool, he had a ton of friends and was the kind of person people just gravitated toward

but deep down, he was still an introvert at heart. No matter how many friends he had or how much people loved being around him, he always cherished his alone time—it was his way of recharging

probably teacher favorite

after his parents were murdered, he retreated into himself, becoming a loner—a shadow of the person he once was. the bright, sociable kid who could light up a room disappeared, leaving behind a quiet, guarded shell

he shut everyone out—his friends, his teachers, anyone who tried to reach him.

communication felt impossible, like talking to a wall ready to crumble at the slightest touch. he became volatile, quick to anger and prone to violent outbursts.

the smallest thing could set him off and it was clear he was battling demons far too heavy for a child to carry

he was always getting into fights at school, over the most ridiculous things—someone looking at him the wrong way, a comment that barely made sense, or a passing remark. it didn’t matter how trivial; he’d snap.

it was like he was itching for a reason to lash out, just to feel something other than the numbness that haunted him

alfred was absolutely fed up every time the school would call. It was the same routine—another fight, another complaint.

his patience was wearing thin but he never showed it.

he’d just sigh, straighten his tie, and head to pick Bruce up, trying to stay calm while his mind was racing with how much things had changed

alfred probably thought about quitting a dozen times, especially during those rough moments. he was already carrying the weight of guilt over Thomas and Martha’s deaths, feeling like he’d failed them in some way.

but even through his exhaustion, he couldn’t walk away.

he simply couldn’t abandon Bruce, not when his parents had entrusted him with their son’s care, not when the boy was falling apart.

bc alfred knew that no matter how hard it got, he had to stay—because Bruce needed him, even if he didn’t always show it.

it’s pretty clear that Bruce really doesn’t have time for small talk.

that man goes straight to the point, no beating around the bush. sometimes, it’s like he forgets there’s a filter between his brain and his mouth—so he comes off way too blunt.

but, honestly, he just doesn’t see the need to waste time on unnecessary pleasantries.

if he’s got something to say, he’s saying it, no fluff.

Bruce absolutely loves car races (it's actually canon in the prequel book)

he’s got that need for speed, and nothing gets his adrenaline pumping like watching or being part of a high-stakes race.

it’s not just about the cars; it’s the whole atmosphere, the precision, the thrill of it all.

you can tell he’s got a real passion for it—just one of those things he doesn’t talk about much bc he rarely even talks that is

and so, naturally, he’s got a huge interest in F1

He’s got a serious passion for mechanics too—like, borderline obsession

favorite car is, without a doubt, his grandfather's Corvette (the one that makes an appearance in that iconic funeral scene)

another phase he went through during his late teens—but never really left—was his obsession with Nirvana

It hit him so hard that he even picked up an electric guitar because of it.

spending hours alone in his room trying to replicate their sound, teaching himself riffs from songs like “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Lithium.”

it became an outlet for him, a way to channel his emotions without having to say a word

he wasn’t looking to impress anyone or form a band—it was just for him, a way to lose himself in the music. over time, he got pretty good at it, though he’d never admit it

and I think music became another refuge for him, a way to escape the chaos in his head

overall, though, he was a massive fan of Nirvana and Kurt Cobain

did date as a teenager, but it was never anything too serious

his heart was always more focused on Gotham—on his plans, his ambitions, and the legacy he was determined to create

relationships were never a priority for him back then; it was always about the bigger picture, the city that needed saving, the work that needed to be done.

gotham was always at the forefront of his mind, and nothing, not even the most charming date, could truly distract him from his ultimate goal

honestly, I don’t think he’s even a virgin. or maybe he is—who knows? but the prequel book did mention he knew his way around women, so it’s safe to say he’s no stranger to that side of things

was a straight-A student without even breaking a sweat. it just came naturally to him

fave subject was chemistry

he looks a lot like his mother but you could definitely see his father in him too—kind of a perfect mix of both, like a living blend of their best features

he inherited his mother jawline and hair

and his father eyes and nose

was really close to his paternal grandparents

they passed away when he was only seven, so his memories of them are more like faint impressions. but looking at the pictures on the fireplace, you can tell just how much they meant to him

according to Alfred, it was his grandparents who chose his name

never really knew anything about his maternal grandparents, except that they were long gone before he was even born. it was just one of those things he never thought to ask about, something his mother never spoke much about. it was as if they were just figures in the past, distant and forgotten, not even a whisper of a memory for him to cling to

he’s got a ton of distant cousins, most of them living over in Europe, but honestly he doesn’t talk to a single one of them. it’s not like he cares to, either.

that's another reason why Alfred ended up with custody. with all those distant relatives, none of them really stepped up and Bruce wasn’t exactly close to them anyway.

alfred was the one who had always been there, so it just made sense

didn’t mind being an only son, but deep down, he used to beg his mom for a sibling

comfort smell? It’s his mom’s perfume—lavender mixed with a hint of lemon

and Alfred cookies ofc

Bruce’s go-to comfort clothing is his dad’s old Harvard sweater—it’s just cozy and familiar.

as a kid, he’d call his mom "Mummy" or "Mama" and his dad "Papa."

most of his suits? Hand-me-downs from his dad. He’s only got a few of his own.His favorite sport is soccer—don’t ask why; it just makes sense.

Bruce has always been fascinated by his family’s history.

his dad used to tell him all these stories about their ancestors, and Bruce would listen so intently, always begging for more.

sure, the library had books on it, but hearing the stories from his dad just hit different. his dad’s voice made it all feel personal and alive.

oh, and he’s canonically descended from English royalty

his mom was really into gardening.

she loved her plants, especially lilies of the valley and Bethlehem stars.

Lily of the valley: sweetness and purity of heart.

Bethlehem star: hope and happiness.

she used to say they reminded her of his dad and Bruce.

Martha was also super into art and fashion.

she painted and was basically a Gotham fashion icon

because of her, Bruce was always dressed to impress as a kid

his dad, though, was the total opposite. Thomas Wayne’s tie was always crooked, and he had zero fashion sense

Bruce remembers how every morning, his mom would fix his dad’s tie and scold him about it, but Thomas would just kiss her to shut her up

at work, his dad was all about scrubs, and at home, it was pajamas and a robe

Bruce sometimes wears his dad’s robe now—it’s comforting

when it comes to fashion, Bruce is totally his dad’s son

if Alfred didn’t step in, he’d probably look a mess.

his dad loved photography and books

Bruce remembers how his dad used to take photos of his mom and him all the time

the library is packed with pictures of his family—mostly his mom and little Bruce

his parents’ love for each other was something else, and Bruce secretly dreams of having something like that one day

and deep down, he’s a total romantic. he gets that from his dad

he’s already decided that if he ever gets married, he’ll propose with his mom’s ring

a diamond blue sapphire ring

Alfred used to sneak him sweets before dinner (classic Alfred move)

they played chess a lot, though Bruce never actually won

Dory, his mom’s maid, was one of the midwives when Bruce was born

she’s also the one who taught him how to cook, and yeah, Bruce knows how to cook ( the essential at least )

everyone says he’s a cat person, but honestly, I feel he's more like a dog person. It just fits.

part 2 ?

or should I do dating headcanons ?

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [5]

Part Five | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.2K

Author’s Note: Thanks for the continued love on this lil fic. I love them. The connection they are creating with one another is so sweet and I cannot wait to continue writing for these two idiots. Shane of course continues to be a dick and will only get worse. We're getting closer to the start of the show. I won't be retelling the entire series in this fic. Just snippets of their life together -- the show will fill in the gaps in a way. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

You don’t consider yourself a jealous girlfriend; however, as you watch Shane and Lori from across the camp, you cannot help the rage that begins to simmer in your chest. The feeling makes you nauseous. You adore Lori. She’s always been like an older sister to you -- the senior girl who took you under her wing during your freshman year of high school. So the problem isn’t Lori. No, it’s the way Shane is looking at Lori. His face practically lights up with affection and warmth as he listens to her -- a stark contrast to the Shane you’ve become accustomed to since the dead started walking. 

“Hey, uhm. Is everything okay?”

Glenn’s soft voice cuts through your rising temper, startling you. You look up at him with wide eyes for a second, before attempting to pull yourself together. If anyone in camp knew the exact thoughts running through your head right now, you’d be humiliated. You take a deep breath before giving Glenn a polite smile. 

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

Glenn shifts awkwardly on his feet. You haven’t really had a chance to get to know to know Glenn. You could probably count on one hand how many times the two of you have interacted since he joined the camp. For the first few weeks, you assumed he didn’t like you. However, Amy informed you that his avoidance is nothing personal -- it’s just that Shane terrifies him and you’re an extension of that fear. This seems to be a common problem for you around camp. People seem intimidated by you due to your proximity to the camp’s self-proclaimed leader. It’s infuriating and isolating. 

“It’s just… those are my favorite pair of jeans.”

You look down at the wash basin in front of you. You’d been so distracted by your own thoughts, that you’d completely forgotten about the clothes you were washing. As your mind continued to race, your hands began moving on their own accord with just as much ferocity. Your face flushes as you stare at Glenn’s jeans that you damn near scrubbed a hole into.

“Sorry, Glenn. Just zoned out for a second.”

Glenn gives you a kind smile, seemingly content with your answer.

“Don’t worry about it. Happens to everyone.”

He shrugs nonchalantly before wandering off towards Dale. You let out a relieved sigh once he’s out of earshot. Deciding that Glenn’s clothing has been through enough torment today, you pull his garments out of the wash basin and move to pin them up on a clothesline. As you attach the last article of clothing, you hear footsteps approaching you from behind. Before you can turn around, you hear a familiar voice.

“I’m goin’ out to hunt, wanna come?”

You furrow your brow. Daryl has mentioned how much he enjoys hunting alone -- how relaxing it is. It makes sense. He’s a loner by nature, so the constant presence of people in camp must be overwhelming. You don’t want to intrude on his personal time. Before you can ask him if he’s sure, you notice his eyes shift from you over to Shane and Lori.

Oh.

You might have been able to fool Glenn, but you can’t fool Daryl. He knows exactly what has you so riled up. You’re embarrassed that the younger Dixon has seen through your ruse. The last thing that you want is Daryl thinking less of you because of your envy. You want to explain yourself -- let him know that you’re not just some jealous girlfriend -- but the words get stuck in your throat, so you nod wordlessly at his offer and allow him to lead you into the surrounding woods. 

Daryl likes the quiet -- he usually finds comfort in it, but your unusual silence, while you both move through the forest, is unbearable. You’re the conversationalist. You’re the one who retells stories about your time in King County with Shane and the Grimes family, recites all the gossip you learned from Andrea and Amy throughout the day, and complains about whatever crappy meal the group was able to put together that evening. And he likes that about you. You ask him the occasional question about Merle or hunting, but you never pry. You’re the one that talks and he’s the one that listens -- simple as that.

But right now you don’t feel like talking and it’s making him anxious. He knows he should say something, but what? Sorry your boyfriend is such a jackass? He shakes his head at the thought. Real, smooth Dixon. This is uncharted territory for him. No one ever taught him how to comfort.

A rustling in the woods saves him from his attempts at starting a conversation. Daryl puts his arm out to stop you from walking in front of him, before aiming his crossbow toward the noise. He slowly moves forward and you follow his lead, knife in hand. Eventually, a walker comes into view from behind the trees. Daryl waits for a clear shot and pulls the trigger. You let out a sigh of relief as you watch the arrow sink into the walker’s skull. 

“Nice shot.”

Your voice breaks through the silence for the first time and he’s glad to hear it. He wanders over to the walker and retrieves his crossbow bolt. He wipes the tip of it off on his jeans, before looking back at you. 

“You ‘lright?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you think about his question -- you know he’s not asking about the walker.

“I’m just worried.”

Daryl furrows his brow at your response. He doesn’t ask why, instead, he silently shifts from one foot to the other, allowing you to continue if you so choose. 

“I feel like you’re the only person in this camp who sees me as a person and not just Shane’s girl -- I just don’t want that to change.”

Daryl shakes his head at the thought. He’s seen you do more for this camp in one day, than Shane’s ever done. It’s stupid really, how everyone treats you. And he knows that you have more to give than cleaning laundry and preparing meals. You don’t have to prove yourself to him -- the two of you are far past that. You’ve already earned his respect -- something Shane has yet to accomplish.  

“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that.” 

You nod at his words, but Daryl can tell that they did little to reassure you. 

“I feel the same way.”

Your brows knit together in confusion over Daryl’s words. 

“You’re the only person who doesn’t see me as Merle.”

His tone is sincere -- you know he genuinely means what he is saying. You wonder how many people have met the Dixon brothers and simply wrote Daryl off due to the brashness of his older brother. You watch as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable with the vulnerability in his words. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely not Merle.”

This causes Daryl to laugh -- actually laugh. The sound is surprising at first -- more boyish than the usual gruffness you're used to in his voice, but it’s nice. And it makes you smile brightly, knowing you’re the reason for his laughter. 

“C’mon, we should head back.”

You allow him to take the lead again, navigating through the woods once more. He might not have caught any squirrel, but the two of you are not coming back to camp empty-handed. A newfound understanding washes over the both of you, bonding you to one another.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

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@dreamtofus

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@prettywhenibleed

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@catradora333

@punicorn999

[monakisu]

I want you to know that I came across a random post of your Death Note art, went "Awww, oh my gosh, with the way this person draws Light I think Akechi would look fantastic in the same style!", clicked onto your profile, and then saw your newest artwork was Akechi. I'm still kind of cackling over it and thought maybe you'd find it funny too. Your art is SO cute, I'm very happy I found it <333

HAHA THAT’S AMAZING (<< was an akechi artist wayyyy before i fell head over heels for light)

but rlly… theyre so similar:

- brunet

- asshole

- pretty boy

- mass murderer

- black-haired homoerotic rival

at the end of the day, the key difference is one is a top and the other is a bottom.

ok but seriously, they’re vastly different characters on a fundamental level:

- light was handed everything him on a silver platter: family, friends, looks, intellect, a comfortable life… as a bastard child of a sex worker and now an orphan, goro had to fight his way to his current position and will always harbor a terrible sense of inferiority (light is completely confident in his absolute superiority, Always (that’s why the challenge of L sent him off the deep end of obsession lol))

- light genuinely sees himself as a hero, while goro would like to feel the same but is nonetheless depressingly aware of his villain’s journey (his undesirable position as the detective vs the underdog phantom thieves, his string of assassinations, his ultimate dirty bloody goal, etc.).

- light’s motive is about the world’s salvation, cleansing, the birth of his ideal reality (very messianic of him with the slightest loving tinge of mary cradling her lamb hahaha) while goro is laser-focused on ruining this one asshole’s life in particular, vengeance and revenge at once! one’s focused on rebirth, and the other gunning straight for death! they both use murder to get what they want but light probably floats around thinking himself so clean and divine as mother of the world (ignorance is bliss) while goro is constantly desperately trying to cover up his suspiciously red hands with his gloves hehehe… they’re both constantly striving for perfection, just with varying levels of self-awareness!!

- goro is a canonical loner; light has a horde of friends; this is probably due to a difference in public persona! goro is an untouchable idea of what he thinks a human should be and is completely out of the loop when it comes to normal social interactions (believes opening with hegel will instantly endear himself to the average person (luckily he inflicted that upon akira who is decidedly not average in the slightest)), light is implied to be more down-to-earth and even slightly goofy (he’s gaming decorum like an advanced speedrunner)! it’s probably good how distant goro is, because getting any closer to him will allow you to see how off-putting and uncanny he is, sorta like an AI-generated image—seams in the wrong places and far too much teeth LOL. meanwhile light has this whole shebang so thoroughly figured out that he’s BORED with it all! he’d like to move on to the next game (with L), thank you!! light definitely still exudes uncanny creepiness (it’s his natural state of being) especially when he zones out or starts hysterically cackling out of nowhere at his own thoughts, but he’s a hundred times better at masking compared to goro due to a better upbringing. goro is starved for the adoring friends he sees akira easily picking up one after another; light couldn’t give less of a shit because he’s always had those trivial luxuries! he’d much rather prefer an adoring WORLD!!

- then there’s the difference in how they die… one started out surrounded with company but ultimately died alone, while it’s the opposite for the other (if you count the de-realization of maruki’s reality as goro’s “death” (which i don’t)).

- in conclusion, light and goro are like funhouse mirror reflections of each other!!! one is a pampered lapdog getting a taste of rabies and letting loose, while the other is a starving wolf trying to domesticate itself for treats and headpats!! and i <3 them both!!!!!

anyways i may be wrong about light because im going purely off of fics, tumblr shitposts, and my own imagination :] feel free to school me in a way that won’t destroy my delusions!

[riizegasm]

Melt || P.WB

❀ pairing: nerdy!wonbin x gn!reader

❀ genre: college au, suggestive, fluff

❀ word count: ~4.8k

❀ warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, somewhat dialogue heavy, wonbin is slightly ooc, one heated kiss scene that kinda doesn’t end…oops?

❀ summary: Getting snowed in with your socially awkward project partner isn’t ideal. But maybe it is, when he’s as attractive as Park Wonbin. And who knows, maybe you’ll find yourself someone to keep you company until the snow melts.

❀ a/n: I have honestly never loved a fic concept more than this one! I hope you all love it as much as all do. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated and encouraged. Happy reading!

masterlist

Deep eyes remain trained on a space outside the window, their darkness absorbing the stark whiteness of the snow. At this point, it has covered everything, leaving the entire town blanketed in white. You can only see his profile, but the white reflects beautifully in the rich brown of his eyes, doubly projected onto the lenses of his glasses. You wish you had your sketchpad, hoping to capture even a small portion of his beauty. A drawing wouldn’t even begin to compare, though. 

“It’s still snowing,” Wonbin says, smiling sheepishly. 

He turns to you for the first time in a few minutes, eyes now sparkling with the reflection of your interior lights rather than the freshly fallen snow. He’s still breathtaking, a fact that you’ve never been quite able to get over since meeting him. To think that he was sitting in the front row of the class, left by himself for the year end project…it must have been fate. It must have been a higher power that turned his wide eyes to land on yours while a soft blush bloomed on his tan cheeks. 

It must have been fate when your professor noticed that you two were the only ones left without partners. It must have been fate when the first time Wonbin came over to start on the project, snow began to fall. At first it was simply light flurries, not enough to stick. But after an hour, the snow began to come down in blankets, blocking all entrances and exits, leaving all public transportation stuck in place. 

It must be a higher power that has you snowed in your apartment with the most attractive man you’ve ever seen. 

“I’m so sorry for intruding like this,” Wonbin mutters as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “If I had known it was going to be this much snow, I would have suggested another day to work on the project.”

Thank god he didn’t. 

“Don’t apologize,” you reassure from your spot on the couch. “You can’t control the weather. And besides, it gives us plenty of time to work on the project. Who knows, maybe this is a sign that we should be friends or something!”

Wonbin seems confused by your remarks, a familiar blush beginning to dust his cheeks. “Friends?”

The man’s confusion doesn’t quite come as a shock to you. Although you had never really seen him before being paired together in class, it was obvious that Wonbin was more of a loner. All you knew was that he had a roommate, Eunseok, which is why you suggested your own place for the project. His social skills were…questionable, to say the least, so it doesn’t surprise you that he’s hesitant to lean into the label of friends. Although, you’d be lying if you said that was all that you wanted from him. 

To say that Wonbin is attractive is an understatement; he’s nothing short of absolutely gorgeous. His long, dark hair constantly falls forward to conceal his wide, dark eyes, forever framed by his thick-rimmed glasses. His mouth remained enticingly pink, full lips slightly chapped from his habit of biting them and the harsh winter cold. Despite his habit of shrinking into spaces, it’s clear that his shoulders are impossibly broad, tapering into a thin waist that could only be maintained through hours at the gym. 

Even now, as the man stands with his hands politely clasped behind his back, it’s impossible not to notice the subtle flex of his triceps underneath his short sleeve tee shirt. Never had you been more thankful for the man wearing layers, all because he simply runs warm. You can’t help but wonder if his skin would be hot to the touch, if close proximity would warm you to your core. 

“Yeah,” you smile. “We can be friends! I mean, we should get to know each other a bit anyways. That might make the project more bearable.”

Wonbin seems to mull the suggestion over for a second before he breaks out into a wide smile. “Yeah, let’s be friends.”

It’s hard not too coo at the prominent apples of his cheeks, painted that faint pink that seems to permanently color Wonbin’s face. You have rarely seen the man smile. Normally, he seems nothing short of absolutely miserable, forever closed off and not sparing anyone a second glance. But something about the genuine excitement swimming in his eyes has a pleasant warmth blooming in your gut. 

“Why don’t you come sit down,” you pat the space next to you on your worn couch. “It seems like we’re going to be here for a while. Wine?”

Wonbin’s smile grows impossibly wider. “Yeah, wine sounds good.”

The rosé is crisp on your tongue when you finally settle back into the couch. Wonbin seems to be enjoying it as well, despite his overly stiff body language. He remains rigid on the opposite side of the couch, which is more like a loveseat, seemingly determined to keep as much physical space between you two as possible. It’s adorable, but you know that needs to change. 

You let some time pass with both of you enjoying your wine and the music that you had put on earlier as a backtrack for studying. The studio apartment that you call home is small enough that the sound fills all four walls, the space forever feeling cozy. Wonbin seems to enjoy it as well, if the way his fingers tap out the beat on his thigh is anything to go by. 

You imagined that it would be awkward between the two of you, as Wonbin doesn’t seem to do the best in social situations. But the man seems content to sit in relative quiet, just enjoying the music. It isn’t until the both of you are about halfway into your second glasses that you speak again. 

“So, what do you like to do for fun?”

Wonbin seems a little surprised as he turns to you, as if not expecting to do much talking at all. 

“I like playing video games. I also like to go to the gym with Eunseok and some of his friends sometimes.” The man’s nose scrunches as he thinks for a moment. “Oh! And I really like to play the guitar.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flit down to his hands, taking in the way his fingers wrap around the stem of his wine glass. He clearly has a few callouses, fingertips rough from years of plucking guitar strings. A few prominent veins run down from his forearm and stretch through his hands, indicating a subtle strength behind his grip. Suddenly, your core feels warm, and you’re sure that the wine is not to blame. 

You clear your throat roughly before responding. “That’s so cool!”

Wonbin’s eyes seem to sparkle when he turns them to you. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean. I’m sure it’s a hit with the ladies, men, whoever you date.”

“Oh, well…” A pout begins to form on Wonbin’s lips, his seemingly permanent blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “I haven’t really dated anyone before.”

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but it does. Wonbin’s undoubtedly attractive, and on a campus as big as yours, you’re sure that someone would snatch him up if they got the chance. But with his quiet, awkward demeanor, you’re not surprised that he hasn’t quite let anyone. In an odd way, the news makes you a little giddy. 

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow. “You haven’t dated anyone? Like not even a situationship?”

“Situationship?”

Wonbin’s evident confusion is extremely endearing, but startling nonetheless. Has he really never experienced romance before? It seems impossible, but with the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth, there seems to be no other explanation. 

You sigh, taking a long swig of your wine before responding. “Yeah, it’s like, a mutual crush but you never actually date.”

“Oh, then no.” Wonbin’s flush deepens, almost impossibly so, the wine and embarrassment creating a beautiful combination on his face. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before. But they’ve never liked me back, I don’t think…”

Wonbin’s voice trails off into a soft whisper, his eyes growing glassier behind his clear lenses. It’s clear that the boy doesn’t seem uncomfortable admitting his lack of experience, the wine probably doing wonders for his confidence. But he still seems shy, secretive, refusing to meet your gaze as if eye contact would reveal something—too much, maybe. 

It’s impossible not to wonder what kind of secrets lay hidden behind Wonbin’s meek exterior. You wonder if he becomes a different person entirely when he relaxes. When the glasses come off and the shy demeanor dissipates, who exactly is Park Wonbin? And why do you feel like you’d want him no matter what?

“Wait, so how—?” You cut your own question off by clapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry! I just realized I’m being so intrusive. I didn’t mean to interrogate you, I swear!”

A soft smile blooms on Wonbin’s face, never faltering as he drains the contents of his second glass. “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not! Here, ask me something…or a few things. That way we can call it even.”

“Oh, I don’t need to do that. I promise it’s okay.”

“No, seriously,” you insist. “We can even make a game out of it! Like 21 questions or something.”

The look of confusion on the man’s face tells you everything you need to know. Sure, the game is somewhat outdated, but it’s still a classic. And as a man in his twenties, you had at least expected the man to have participated in a way too sexual game of 21 questions. It was like a rite of passage! But Wonbin seems to be full of surprises. 

“It’s basically a game where you just ask each other questions back and forth that the other person has to answer.”

Wonbin cocks his head cutely. “What if I don’t want to answer?”

“Then you don’t answer,” you shrug. “Some people play where you have to drink if you don’t want to answer, but we don’t have to do that.”

Surprisingly, Wonbin’s eyes light up with a newfound mischief at the explanation. It’s a stark contrast from the wide-eyed confusion that normally crosses his face, or the shy blush that continually colors his cheeks. Instead, he appears like a normal college student, for once, ready to take on a challenge. The look ignites something in your core that you force yourself to ignore. 

“I think I want to do it that way. You know, where you drink and stuff!”

His excitement forces you to shrug, immediately grabbing the bottle of wine and splitting its contents between your two glasses. It seems like the alcohol has allowed Wonbin to relax a little bit, if the way he sinks into the couch is anything to go by. You struggle not to track the stretch of his biceps when one arm rests on the back of the loveseat, unintentionally putting you in his embrace. 

Your voice comes out shaky despite your attempts to steel your nerves. “You ask first.”

“Uh…” Wonbin’s nose scrunches cutely as he thinks, clearly using every corner of his wine-tipsy brain to come up with a question. “Oh! What’s your favorite color?”

You can’t help but snort at the man’s generic question. It’s clear that he didn’t know the game, so he would have no idea what other things that question would lead to. For a moment, you consider telling Wonbin how that question always leads down a rabbit hole of debauchery. But you can’t bring yourself to dampen the innocent glisten in his eye. 

“It’s green, but not like a light green or a lime color. I like a good, deep, forest green.”

Wonbin hums, seemingly satisfied by your thoughtful answer. “Okay, your turn.”

“What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Gotten a tattoo,” Wonbin answers immediately.

You’re sure your eyes are popping out of your head. You expected his answer to be something akin to getting a bad grade on a test or attending a shady party, but this is on a whole new level. Subconsciously, your eyes roam his form, trying to get a peek of ink, wherever it is. When you can’t seem to find any, you can’t control your follow up question. 

“Where is it?”

Wonbin smiles cheekily, rosy cheeks deepening in color. “It’s not your turn anymore.”

As the game progresses, the two of you sink into comfort. It’s easy to trade questions and swap answers like it’s nothing, only a few questions causing either of you to drink. You learn that Wonbin gets giggly as he gets tipsier, lips bitten into a deep cherry shade that matches the flush on his cheeks. It would be cute, if it weren’t for the way his eyes bore holes into your face, the man suddenly no longer scared to maintain eye contact. 

You wonder if this is an act, a persona that Wonbin puts on to win over whoever he’s interested in. It would make sense: act shy and innocent, find a way to hang out, slowly let his confidence begin to show over a few drinks and shared laughter. But then there’s all those little moments that betray the confident aura that the liquor has bathed him in. 

At one point, Wonbin attempts to drink from his cup a little too quickly, the glass clashing against his teeth and causing him to wince. At another, he gets so excited about his love for guitars that he starts rambling, fumbling over his speedy words as he tries to include you in his interest. It’s endearing, and so incredibly genuine that you can’t doubt for a second that this is him. Once again, you find yourself wondering how a man like this could be single. 

“Your turn,” Wonbin chirps before taking another sip of his wine. You’re surprised he’s been able to make it last so long. 

“Hmm,” you ponder dramatically, tapping your index finger against your chin in a way that makes Wonbin giggle. “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”

The man freezes. His hand remains hovering awkwardly above the coffee table, about to place his wine glass down. He slowly turns to you, eyes wide and face scrunched in a permanent wince. You simply blink back at him, not sure why the question would elicit such a reaction. 

It takes Wonbin a second before he’s able to snap out of it, letting out a breath. He finally places his glass on the table before shooting you a sheepish smile. It seems like second nature when his hand comes to scratch at the long hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I, uh,” the man flounders for a bit, clearly racking his brain in hopes that his next sentence will magically appear. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

Park Wonbin really is full of surprises. 

You guess that the information shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you, considering all of the other things that he hadn’t experienced. But you still expected the man to have some experience. Hell, even having a peck in elementary school is more expected than never kissing anyone. 

Despite the way that Wonbin lets out a soft chuckle, it’s clear that the admission makes him somewhat uncomfortable. His body is stiff in the loveseat, despite the way he tries to feign nonchalance. He can’t seem to keep his gaze on yours, looking anywhere else but at you. 

You hate it, the way one simple question has altered the vibe of your entire interaction. Things had been going so well, the two of you getting along much better than expected. But of course, your big mouth had to ruin it. Curiosity must have truly killed the cat, because Wonbin looks like he’d rather be six feet under than sitting next to you. 

A quick glance towards the window reveals that the snow is still coming down heavily, with no signs of stopping soon. It’s clear that Wonbin will still have to be here for another few hours, at the least, so discomfort is not an option. You just sigh, placing a reassuring hand on Wonbin’s thigh. 

“Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” you soothe. “I’m sorry, though. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Wonbin shakes his head, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m not…you didn’t…it’s fine, really. I should have just drank instead of answering. That’s how you play the game, right?”

You don’t buy the man’s unbothered act, especially as his thigh muscle remains tense under your touch. Before you can respond, Wonbin pipes up again, words coming out in a rush. 

“I mean it’s not a big deal anyways. Like I’ve just never had the chance to do it, you know? It’s not like I’m saving it for anyone special or anything. It just hasn’t really come up. And I feel like it doesn’t have to be so serious. I’m sure my time will come soon.”

As the man rambles, you can’t help but watch the movement of his mouth. His lips look so full where they curve around each syllable, perfectly pink and slightly glossy from saliva. Every now and then, you get a peek of his perfectly white teeth; you can’t help but wonder how they would feel sinking into the flesh of your own lips. 

“Wonbin,” you call softly. 

The boy doesn’t seem to hear you, still caught up in his ramblings. 

“Wonbin,” you repeat, louder this time. 

It still doesn’t seem to be enough, the man clearly lost in his own explanations. 

“You can kiss me!” You blurt. When the man turns wide eyes towards you, you immediately begin to backtrack. “I mean, only if you want to.”

Wonbin flounders for a moment, his mouth stuck in a helpless cycle between open and closed. You brace yourself for the impact of rejection, silently cursing at how you’ve killed the vibe once again. With the ongoing snow, you know you’ll have to bear the awkwardness for at least a few more hours. 

“I want to.”

What?

“What?”

Wonbin’s no longer looking at you, instead staring at where he’s picking at the loose threads of his ripped jeans. 

“I want to,” he mumbles softly. “I want to kiss you, but only if you mean it. I get it if it was a joke or something, though.”

Your heart breaks at the thought of what Wonbin’s been through, no doubt having been teased during his growing years. But you can’t imagine how anyone would joke about wanting to kiss him when that’s all you’ve wanted to do since you first laid eyes on him. 

“Yeah…I mean, no! I’m not joking,” you rush out. “I mean, you said you never had the opportunity, so what better time than the present?”

Wonbin nods, still unable to meet your gaze. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Despite the icy chill of the winter weather, it suddenly feels one hundred degrees hotter in your apartment. Although you and Wonbin are seated at opposite ends of the loveseat, the space between you feels almost nonexistent. If you just shifted a bit to the right, you would be able to make the contact that you so desperately crave. 

“So,” Wonbin starts after a moment of silence, “um, what should I do?”

For a second, you pause, wondering how exactly you should go about this. It’s Wonbin’s first kiss. There’s an immense pressure to make it great, perfect even. When you think back on your own first kiss, it was anything but, which just deepens your desire to make this everything he has ever dreamed of. 

The liquid courage that your glasses of wine have given you allows you to slide into Wonbin’s lap. You try to ignore the way that the man instantly tenses, reminding yourself that this is normal for a first time. 

“Is this okay?” You whisper, almost nose to nose with the man.

Wonbin swallows thickly before nodding, hands hovering awkwardly in the air. At his confirmation, you allow yourself to relax into your position, thighs cast on either side of his hips. Like this, you can see the faint freckles that dot Wonbin’s face, some hidden by the thick frames of his glasses. He’s gorgeous, you notice, not for the first time. 

The music is still playing softly in the background, a calm R&B melody flooding the small space. It’s cozy, slowly melting your discomfort away. Wonbin seems lost though, hands twitching where they hover aimlessly. You can’t help but smile at the display of nerves, choosing to soothe them by placing them on your hips. Wonbin’s fingers flex and then relax, slowly gaining confidence where they hold you. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask. 

“Yeah, I—,” Wonbin swallows heavily. “Please.”

You ignore the sharp flutter that rushes through your stomach, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel the longer strands of his hair tickle the skin of your forearms, soft and delicate. Wonbin’s eyes flicker down to your lips, once, twice, before he goes back to meeting your gaze. 

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

All you get is a quick nod before you’re leaning in and placing a chaste peck on his lips. It’s nothing special, just a soft meeting of lips, but it feels electric. You pull away with a soft sigh, lamenting the fact that it was over all too quickly. Wonbin is slow to open his eyes, blinking at you slowly. 

“How was th—,”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before Wonbin’s lips are on yours once again. It’s firmer this time, his lips more insistent where they blanket yours. The grip on your hips tightens as Wonbin tilts his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly. It’s still fairly modest, but the feeling of him against you has goosebumps erupting on your skin. The kiss only lasts a second longer than the first, but you feel doubly breathless when the two of you part. 

“Was that good?” Wonbin asks, dark eyes sparkling behind glasses that are slightly askew. 

You don’t trust your voice at the moment, choosing the answer his question with a simple nod of the head. The confirmation has a bright smile blooming on the man’s face, his fingers pressing more firmly into your hips. 

“Can I kiss you again?”

This time, you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, pulling the man directly into a liplock. Wonbin seems to have gained a bit of confidence, tilting his head to the side as his lips move against yours. He even goes as far as to trace his tongue along the seam of your mouth, somewhat smiling when you grant him entrance. 

Wonbin’s kiss is nothing like you expected. While he lacks some finesse, he still kisses you breathless, lips moving smoothly against yours. Even as you both are properly making out, he seems to keep up with your demands, copying your movements every so often. He’s a quick learner, making up for what he lacks in experience with enthusiasm. 

The two of you part with an obscene wet sound, your shared saliva making Wonbin’s lips glisten. He looks properly fucked out from just a bit of kissing. His glasses sit askew on his nose, hair tousled from where your fingers were playing with dark strands. It makes your imagination run wild. If this is how he looks after making out, how would he look after he—?

You clear your throat as an attempt to snap out of your daze. Carefully, you untangle yourself from Wonbin’s lap, immediately missing the heat of his skin on yours. Wonbin seems to miss it, too, if the way his hands begin to play with the fabric of his jeans again is anything to go by. After a moment, he straightens out his glasses and takes a deep breath. 

“So,” you start, breaking the tense silence. “How was that for your first kiss?”

Wonbin sighs, staring at an unspecified point in the apartment. “It was good. Really good.”

You can’t help the soft chuckle you let out at the man’s honesty, helplessly endeared. It’s a wonder how the man can go from the sole object of your desire to the target of your cuteness aggression so quickly. It’s refreshing, but also dangerous in the way it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. 

Wonbin still looks dazed when he finally turns to you, cheeks painted with a fresh flush. He seems oddly nervous, more nervous than one should be in the presence of someone they just made out with. 

“Can I tell you something?” He blurts. 

The outburst startles you, but the determination in his dark eyes piques your curiosity. When you give an affirmative hum, the man sighs, seemingly hyping himself up before he speaks. 

“I think I like you.” He seems disappointed in his own admission, brows furrowing cutely as he rushes to correct himself. “I mean, I know I like you. Like, more than just a project partner. I have a crush on you.”

Your heart sinks at the confession. Of course Wonbin would be convinced that he has a crush on the person he shared his first kiss with. The combination of the wine and the smooth music hasn’t helped either, likely clouding his head with a vision of romance that he doesn’t truly believe in. As much as you’d like to believe it’s real, you know that this is just a result of circumstance. 

“Wonbin,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way he lights up at the simple call of his name. “I think you’re just saying that. I mean, a first kiss can really change your perception of someone.”

“What?”

You run a hand through your hair, fighting the disappointment that sinks in your core. “I’m just saying that you probably don’t actually have a crush on me. I think it’s the emotions of the kiss, the wine, the close proximity, you know, all that stuff.”

Wonbin looks utterly confused. “I had a crush on you before I kissed you though. Even before I came over here today, I thought you were pretty.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What?”

“I thought it was my lucky day when we got paired up. I mean, I knew you would never notice me otherwise.”

“You mean…”

“I’m happy my first kiss was with you,” Wonbin admits, smiling softly. “But I would have been ridiculously into you even if I didn’t get to kiss you. Even if I never got to kiss you! I mean you’re just so pretty and smart and I love when the professor calls on you because you always know the answer and your voice sounds so nice in the morning, but it’s sometimes so distracting that…”

“Wonbin,” you call. 

“I feel like I lose my focus in the class, which is part of why I sit in the front because I knew that if I could see you I would never be able to pay attention, which sucks because I don’t want to ruin my GPA, but…”

“Wonbin!”

You’re able to put a stop to the boy’s rambling by cupping his face, fighting a coo at the way his plush cheeks squish together. His mouth is left in a forced pucker, lips enticing you for a kiss. This time, you don’t resist.

“I like you, too,” you admit once you pull away, “as more than a project partner.”

Wonbin is silent for a moment, blinking rapidly behind his thick lenses. It seems to take a second for his brain to come back online, but when it does, his face blooms into a squished smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll be my second kiss, too?”

Your own chuckle surprises you, forcing you to release Wonbin’s face from your grasp. You don’t bother to fight your giggles, happy to notice that Wonbin has joined in on your laughter. 

“I’m pretty sure we’re beyond two kisses, but yes, Wonbin. That means I’ll be your second kiss. And if you play your cards right, I’ll be there for many more kisses after that.”

Wonbin smiles, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. “I wish I could kiss you forever, until all that snow out there melts and forever after that.”

You can’t help but lean forward, placing a quick peck on Wonbin’s lips. 

“There, that was another one. I guess we still have a long way to go until the snow melts.”

Wonbin traps his bottom lip between his teeth, gaze stuck on your mouth. “I guess we better get started, then.”

[rosypenguins]

Hello I need to talk about these stinkers again.

Specifically, I need to talk about the fact that they are BULLIES. Because I feel like a lot of people (including myself) fall into the trap of ONLY focusing on either their dynamic with each other, or their dynamic with others in a world where everyone’s friends. Nothing’s wrong with that, I love focusing on those aspects as much as the next, but I also feel like the fact these 4 are bullies gets kinda glossed over, and it’s something I want to talk about. Because they’re stinky little shits. Who do stinky little things.

(FYI I do not condone these boys’ actions, but I will analyze the hell out of them because character studies are my favorite thing.)

Anyways with that out of the way I am now going to break down how they bully others, and why they bully others.

First, these losers. Their actions can be summarized in a single sentence: They act like Freshmen.

Anyone who’s gone to a public high school can hopefully understand what I mean. Freshmen boys tend to be the one’s who cause the most trouble. The ones who mess with people purely for shits and giggles. And despite Liam and Henry being Juniors, they’re so Freshmen coded it’s not even funny.

I feel these two lack the self-awareness to truly understand how their actions affect other people, so they’re constantly finding new ways to mess with people and get on their nerves. They don’t care if someone gets upset or uncomfortable. They don’t care about invading people’s privacy. They don’t care how their words affect others. Because it’s not hurting them. And as long as it’s not hurting them, it’s funny.

Drawing from my own experiences with Freshmen, I feel these two would follow behind strangers uncomfortably close. They’re the type to go up to random people and say ‘Hey, rate my friend.’ Or ‘Hey, my friend thinks you’re cute.’ But do not mean it in the slightest. They’re the type to throw random snack bags at kids purely for how they dress or act. Because they think it’s funny. And they don’t care what other’s think.

Now for Jake, the victim of bullying himself. Hot take: He’d be the WORST out of the four.

Because Jake knows what hurts the most. He knows how to cut deep, because other’s have cut him deep. He draws from his experience. He says stuff that he remembers other’s saying to him. And he’s does this all for the sake of his friends approval.

Because these are his first real friends. And without them, he’d go back to being a pathetic loner no one else wanted. He’s so desperate for the approval of his new friends he’s willing to abandon his own morals for them. But I do believe he has a limit. He’d never actively invade someone’s privacy. (Considering how he prevented Liam from doing so in the Comic Episode.) And I also cannot see him harming someone in any form. But other than that, Jake’s arguably the scariest out of the four.

I feel like this aspect combined with his charming playboy persona kinda gives him this ‘illusive bad boy’ reputation, even if that’s not who he truly is. So he’s essentially trapped parading around as someone he’s not.

Finally, Drew. Infamous for his ability to turn the word ‘freak’ into a slur.

I don’t view Drew as the meanest of the bunch, nor do I view him as some intimidating final boss either. To me, he’s more of a ringleader. Someone who controls the others, while doing very little himself.

He’s typically the one to instigate, then sit back and laugh as he watches the others do the rest. He’s eggs the others on occasionally, but ultimately, he’s more like an amused bystander. Consider the way he sat back and watched as Liam and Henry messed around in the clubroom in Episode 8, and consider the way he essentially did nothing but laugh as he watched Henry and Liam throw Hailey’s book around in the Comic Episode. Both times, he set the target on Hailey, only to sit back and watch as Henry and Liam did the rest.

However, Drew can absolutely be ruthless when he wants to, at least verbally. Because I believe what Zander said in Episode 2 holds a lot of truth to it: “They’re a walking reflection of their insecurities.”

I’ve already made several posts about Drew’s family issues, his codependency, and his overall lack of self-worth and loneliness, so I won’t be repeating them but my goodness is this boy an insecure mess.

He calls Hailey a control freak, yet is constantly shown trying to control Jake by pushing him away from the club. He tells Hailey to ‘get lost and know where she’s not wanted’ likely because he struggles feeling unwanted. He calls Hailey’s whole music concert worthless without Jake, because he feels worthless without Jake.

Drew and Jake are actually rather similar if you really think about it. Both are implied to have low self-esteem and abandonment issues, and both mask it by pretending to be more confident. But how they deal with their issues is where they begin differ, and this further reflects in their reasons for picking on others.

Jake is always changing himself for others, because he doesn’t know if he’ll truly be accepted for being himself. And the only reason he bullies others is because he feels he has to. Drew, meanwhile, finds ways to make himself seem like the best option. He’s constantly buying his friends expensive gifts, and talks down others to make himself look better by comparison. He does nothing to change himself, unlike Jake.

TLDR: Henry and Liam are Freshmen, Jake’s scary and I clearly cannot talk about Drew without spreading my Druffering propaganda. Have a good day. :3

[amaderika]

PERVERT ! YORU

CW: mature themes, i tried doing nb reader, humping, masturbation,,,, awkward silence

A/N: so i was feeling more of yoru today instead of finishing the tatsuomi fic that has been in my drafts for months now 😀😀😁😁😁 ill finish it one day I SWEAR I WILL

yoru was your roommate. he was really quiet, never really talked to anyone. why? well, he was a pussy. he got absolutely no fucking bitches and he was a loner. come on, he knew no one would want to talk to him, let alone you. but, to his surprise, you were different. he thought this was too cliche. why were you so nice to him? no one's ever treated him this well before. you helped him decide where to place his stuff when he first moved in, made him some cookies, what the fuck? if someone told him you were an angel sent from heaven, he would believe them. you were godsent.

so. . it wasn't his fault, right? jerking off to the thought of you? it wasn't his fault you went to work wearing such a tight shirt! it couldn't be wrong... searching for porn videos with models who looked like you and humping your favorite pillow he knows you sleep with every night. it was okay though, because he loved you!

"fuck — i want you so bad right now. i'm so gross.." yoru moaned out as he dragged his cock up and down your pillow. it smelt exactly like you. too bad it wasn't actually you though.

was he actually going to cum on your pillow? shit, he had to stop this. he was going to far deep. but.. it felt so good.

a loud whimper left his lips as he moved his hips as much as he could. this was some crazy loser activity. he had no rhythm. he was getting weak. he felt like he was gonna pass out any time soon. just imagining you moaning out his name as he thrusted deep inside of you, feeling your warmth, taking in your scent. . there was no way he could stop now. those thoughts of him fucking you instead of this stupid pillow were interrupted when he heard his phone buzzing.

you were calling him.

it happened so suddenly. he scrambled to reach for his phone, immediately pressing accept. this lucky bastard. . he was able to hear your voice now? out of all times?

"yoru! i'm so glad you picked up. i just wanted to ask you what you wanted for dinner?" you said from the other line. you didn't know he was getting off to your sweet voice. he felt like he just hit the jackpot with this one.

it was pathetic how his cock throbbed when he heard you. while keeping up with his movements, he replies with a shaky voice.

"a-anything is fine with m-me as long as you're the one who makes it." he got rougher with his movements. hearing your voice just motivated him even more. please don't hang up — he was secretly hoping.

he was trying so hard to keep quiet. he wouldn't want to let you know he was such a disgusting pervert for you. he didn't want you to think lowly of him. you were the only person who genuinely cared about him and he wouldn't want you to think otherwise.

his cock was twitching, ready for release. the precum coming from it was leaking down to his fingers. just a few more seconds of your voice. .

he put the phone away from him as he came on the soft cushion. as you hung up, he pulled away from the mess he made, a trail of white liquid separating him from it. he was so embarrassed.

you came back home later than usual. you went to your room, noticing your favorite pillow was gone. well, you're too tired to think about that now. you decide to just go to sleep and search for it the next day. yoru got lucky this time.

[jolluxstrait]

MIX 1

Paring: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: fluff, reader has hair but no other physical descriptions, mutual pining?, can be read as whatever gender desired, no use of y/n

a/n: first fic iv written in several years, feels good to write again. Based off of a prompt, see below. enjoy!!

[They're stuck on a road trip, and she's singing her heart out, while he pretends to hate it, but when she falls asleep, he quietly turns her playlist back on]

—

When Charles Xavier called you and Logan into his office, you had no idea what would come of it. He proceeded to explain that there was a special mission for just the two of you; going up into southern Canada to scout a possible Brotherhood hideout. When Charles offered the Blackbird to you both to use for said mission, you lept at the idea. However, Logan was quick to dismiss it.

“Yeah, no, not happening. The last time I was in that death trap Scott damn near got us all killed.”

You shoot him an annoyed glare, despite knowing that he's right. Scott Summers is good at many things, but piloting that jet is not one of them.

“Yeah, but Scott won't be flying it so there's nothing to worry about!”

You chime in, sounding hopeful that this will somehow convince Logan. In all truth, you don't want to spend any more time with the brooding man than you absolutely have to. The trip in the Blackbird would take around five hours in total. Five hours is not ideal, but doable. 

“I don't care, I'm not getting back into that thing. I'll drive us.”

His voice is stern and serious as he speaks, his tone making it clear that he's not backing down. You let out a huff of annoyance at his stubborn attitude, internally grumbling to yourself over spending the next ten hours in Logan's old beat up truck.  It's not that you didn't like Logan, quite the opposite, actually. But you knew, deep down, that the two of you would never work out. He was too much of a loner to ever even consider letting someone get close enough to love him and you didn't think that you could handle the rejection from him anyway. So you buried your feelings away in the farthest corner of your mind and committed yourself to just being friends with the grumpy man.

—

The two of you have been on the road for the past three hours. It's been a long and painfully quiet trip so far, the only saving grace being the soft sounds of the radio, humming quiet country tunes that float around the cab of the truck. It's the reason you're still sane, honestly. You stare out the window, head resting in your hand as your elbow is propped up on the side of the door. The scenery has been nothing but tall trees and empty roads since crossing over the Canadian border. 

Logan taps his fingers gently against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song that's currently playing. The sound is an ever present reminder of the silence between you two. To your surprise, Logan is the first to break the ice. 

“You're not fallin’ asleep over there, are ya?”

His voice is gruff as he speaks, a hint of curiosity in it. He continues to keep most of his attention on the road, only glancing over when you respond. 

“No, just watching the trees go by..”

Logan nods his head at your answer, knowing he would be doing the same thing if he wasn't driving. 

“You can change the station if ya want.”

You perk up at his offer. It's not that you didn't like country music, more that it wasn't your favorite. And honestly, after the last three hours, you were kind of tired of it. You take him up on his offer, shifting your gaze from the tree-filled scenery to the truck's radio, clicking through the stations, pausing on a few only to change it a couple minutes later. 

“There's nothing good on right now.. do you mind if we listen to a CD? I figured I'd bring some since you insisted on driving.” 

Despite your genuine question, your tone was a bit pointed, still slightly annoyed at him for wanting to drive instead of fly.

“Sure darlin, whatever ya want.”

Logan gives you a simple shrug, gesturing to the CD player. Even though he was acting very nonchalant about it, he was genuinely curious about what you liked to listen to. He was also hoping that the change in music would give him a much needed distraction to how focused he was on you in the passenger seat. Every rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, every subtle movement of your body as you shift to get comfortable, the way your scent lingers in the air like smog as it completely takes over the original smell of cigars and leather that usually permeates the cab. It was incredibly distracting and he found himself stealing glances at you every couple minutes. 

You rustle through your bag for a moment, soon pulling a small CD case from it, taking a few moments to flip through the thin plastic sleeves until finally settling on a plain gray CD with the words “MIX 1” written on the top in black ink. With a smile, you pop the CD into the truck's CD player. A couple seconds of silence falls over the inside of the cab before an upbeat punk rock song rings out through the speakers. Logan doesn't try to hide his surprise, looking at you with wide eyes and a raised eyebrow. 

“This really the type of music you like?” 

“Yeah, what's wrong with it?”

You glance over at Logan, narrowing your eyes at him. Of course he wouldn't be into the same music as you. All this time on this round, dirt filled planet and he never bothered to broaden his music taste, only sticking to what he knew, what was familiar.

“It's damn noisy is what's wrong with it.”

It's a simple and straightforward answer, exactly what you would expect out of him. He wrinkles his nose as the next song plays, another similar sounding tune from the same genre.

“Yeah well, you said I could listen to whatever I wanted, so you're stuck with it.”  

You roll your eyes at him as you start singing along to the second song. You run through the whole CD, getting more into the music with each passing song. Logan, despite keeping up his annoyed facade at your singing and choice of music, is absolutely enamored with you. He steals glances at you every so often, watching as you smile while you get lost in the music, his heart rate increasing at the sight. He takes in every moment of you like this, carefree and having fun, committing it to memory.

Logan knows he shouldn't feel this way about you. He shouldn't want to spend time with you as often as he does, shouldn't want to reach out and grab your hand or brush a stray strand of hair from your face, or find any excuse to touch you. Yet, the urge to do so is ever present. He knows that there's no way that you can feel the same way for him that he does about you. He's not sure if he could even bring himself to let you in, not wanting to taint you with the darkness and trauma he keeps bottled up inside. So he pretends to be indifferent towards you, to always keep you at an arm's length away for your own safety. He subtly shakes his head, pushing his meandering thoughts to the back of his mind as he forces himself to focus on the road. You let out a soft sigh as the CD pops halfway out of the player, signifying that it has reached the end. Logan doesn't move to push it back into the player, keeping his gaze on the road ahead of him. You take that as a sign that he's had enough. 

“Alright.” You say, settling back against the leather passenger seat. “It's your turn to pick the music.”

Logan glances down at the radio, reaching up without a word to click the button a few times as he searches through the stations. Finally, he settles back on the old country station. You let out a soft chuckle, not at all surprised that this is what he decided. After about thirty minutes of the quiet music, Logan sneaks himself a glance at you, raising his eyebrows when he sees you asleep in the seat next to him. A small smile tugs on the corners of his lips at the sight of your gentle breathing. He can't help but notice how calm and peaceful you look in this moment, a stark difference from earlier when you were singing your heart out to your music.

Without thinking, he reaches his hand over to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He pauses as his fingers are mere inches from the strand, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in and gently moving it out of the way of your face. His touch is featherlite, making sure not to disturb you in any way. Logan takes one more good look at you before turning his attention back to the road. As the radio station starts to fizzle out of range, he brings his hand up to change it, noticing your CD still sticking out of the player. With a soft push, he watches as the CD slides back into the slot, the same upbeat punk rock song playing moments later. He turns down the volume a bit so as not to wake you, tapping his fingers to the rhythm of each song on the steering wheel as he lets the CD play. It's still noisy, but knowing that you like it, and the images from you singing your heart out to it earlier are making Logan see the genre in a whole new light. 

[acupofinkedblood]

Egobworder x reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Knights in shining armor, what a typical concept of what people usually fantasize about when it comes to such romantic matters like those cliché instant novel. No need to be ashamed, we have all been there, it’s a classic one after all. Love songs and various different types of artwork have all tricked us into believing in knights in shining armor, such idealized man who comes to the rescue of a damsel in distress, the perfect protector who values chivalry in qualities expected of an ideal knight, especially courage, honor, courtesy, justice, and a readiness to help the weak. On theory, it sounds idyllic, isn’t it? And hey, you did achieve your dream of having someone like that in your life! But then again, when you look at the so-called ‘knight in shining armor’ of yours compared to the one in your mind? Well, let’s just say that Egobworder isn’t the typical Prince Charming that you were hoping for

• You’re pretty much used to the traditional type of knight on a white charger. Yeah, those guys who are full of sophisticated poetry and have quite the honor of the name they carry. But this guy? Egobworder? You think he is going to be like that Romeo to your Juliet, who is going to sing sweet nothings into your ears below your balcony in the middle of the night? If that’s what you have in mine, then let me hold your hands while breaking the news to you: You’re at the wrong address honey. Did you forget who is he originally? Yeah, even in this current circumstance, that specific trait of his isn’t going to hasta la bye bye anytime soon. He is technically still Skateboard, but more sophisticatedly fancier - that’s the best way for one to describe him

• Egobworder isn’t your daily stereotype of such fancy gentlemen on a lovely horse going all out to devote his entire life just to do good deeds with a people-pleasing attitude, oh no no, let’s just say that he has more than just that. That’s the head start for you to know. You have to remember that at the end of the day, the formulation of this dude right here is still the original Skateboard that you once knew. Yes, he’s still that laid-back and reckless skateboarder, but that’s deep inside, maybe a bit toned down yet it’s still there - you get the point of what I’m trying to say. Other than that he’s still managed to swoon your heart with that sweet tongue alongside with that charismatic demeanor of his

• How did you even meet him? The answer is simple: Egobworder has a free spirit with nothing to bound him back in one place for the rest of his life. His heart yearns for adventures, and so he shall fulfill it. Locating this man is actually quite the hassle since he insisting on following the calls of the abyss to nowhere. Rambling nonstop about this whole ‘adventure calls’ and how it’s important for him to charge forward to serve his purpose, which he doesn’t even tell you what is it clearly. One moment he is here, then the next moment he is already planning to leave after whatever he claims as his business has been finished. When you cross path with him, I mean it when I say this is quite the once in a blue moon type of event. It can be quite the random meetup, or it can be quiet the rendezvous that you have been calculating your eyes out just because of him. Nonetheless, the best advice one can give you is to seize the moment before he disappears into the unknown again

• Thankfully, Egobworder isn’t a loner. He has been traveling alone for who knows since when, but that doesn’t mean he is against the idea of having a companion by his side. If he did, then why would he offer you to become his partner out of the blue? All those years of traveling alone can get pretty boring when you have gotten used to it. Besides, with how much of a yapper he is, he needs someone to accompany him and his words aside from this idle sword. It’s pretty funny how people give him the look when he starts talking to himself with no audience, so guess that he does yearn for someone to join him. You can call him foolish when he just offers you, a stranger who he knows nothing about — or at least you thought so — to come and accompany him. But hey, you only live once, he has nothing to lose after all. Besides, how can you even say no to that mischievous yet all-knowing grin?

• When you agree to his request of becoming his companion, be ready to bid your old life a farewell because you’re about to see a whole new world when being with him. The goal of his journey is pretty unclear, it makes you wonder if he even has a goal in mind at the first place when starts traveling around. Egobworder is like a self-proclaimed Robin Hood - for the lack of better titles to associate him with, he goes wherever he feels like his presence is required. Although technically he is pretty sporadic, so it’s hard to grasp his character within a trait. Now that he has you by his side, maybe you can help him navigate through the journey properly so he won’t get lost on a daily basis again. He will take you to see the new world which you have never imagined before, and it’s a worthy experience, prepare yourself to be surprised with the miracle of life that you have missed for so long

• Egobworder is pretty ambitious himself. He charges forward with no string to bound him, always hungry for adventures and the thrilling adrenaline rush it comes with. Neophiliac isn’t the worth I’d use to call him as — but nonetheless, it’s somewhat accurate to a certain point — he only pursues things that he likes after all, no matter old or new, impossible or possible. Well, for Egobworder, he is rather venturesome. If he wishes to achieve something, he will go all out for it. Does this apply for all of his escapades? Maybe. Does this apply for his attempt to court you? Oh absolutely. But where’s the fun in saying it directly in front of your face? You already know how much he enjoys the chase of something — which in this case, it’s you — so he will try and win your heart without making it looks like it’s his intention. Damn him and his odd way of thinking. Then again, that’s what you have signed up for after all

• Charismatic is definitely a suitable choice of word to describe Egobworder. That smile, that gesture, that irresistible charm of something so vexatious yet so endearing at the same time - gosh, calling him a smooth operator is pretty accurate because of how much of an attraction he is. And damn does he take the ‘ego’ part of his name seriously, because giving this man attention is like feeding his ego a five star course meal. He has people wrapped around his finger with the perfect combination of a rascal and a gentleman within the same body. That is a dangerous fusion, I’ll give you that. One thing for sure is that it definitely amuses him if you get jealous of the people who are swooned by him. To Egobworder, he doesn’t mind them, what catches his eyes however is you and your response to said people. It’s a bit funny when you get all fussy about him being a chick magnet. He will reassure you that he only has his gaze upon his partner, but of course, it feels like he is teasing the heck out of you at the same time

• This man has a sweet tongue, and you probably see this coming at this point. Egobworder is blessed with the ability to swoon people with his words just for the fun of it. How can one even stay nonchalant with such sweet nothings from someone like him? Word is a powerful weapon. And of course, Egobworder is aware of it. He takes it as an advantage for his own gain, usually to keep his head on his neck before looking over for violence as an alternative solution. No, he isn’t against using violence. But there’s a saying ‘When word is useless, then violence shall be the answer’, so at least he has to try to use words first after all. It will save you two a great deal of effort. He knows how to find the possible persuasion to save the two of you out of a tough situation. He knows how to strike a good bargain when buying the necessities for your adventures. And most importantly, he knows how to convince someone to see the logical side in his plan no matter how absurd it sounds. Yeah, the ‘someone’ in saying is you. No matter how dumb his plan sounds, he always finds the right words to get you to agree with him

• That is to say that it’s undebatable about him being a huge flirt. Flirtatious banters are one of his favorite things to do with you. Most of the time he will keep it simple with intimate gestures out of the blue, but when he feels like he wants a serving of trouble since it’s what he is formed by at the end of the day, then that’s when he attacks with verbal affection right into your heart with no warning. Compliments coming from him is easy to foresee already, but with a questionable frequency to the point that you feel like he doesn’t spare you a moment to breathe at all? Yeah, you have to mentally prepare yourself for that because the way he does it is so unexpected just like his default tendencies. Whenever he feels like he wants to see you flustered, he means it when he says he is going to praise you heaven and back. It’s nothing too dumbfounded when he suddenly corners you against a solid surface then proceeds to give your heart an insane race all over again. You already know this guy - he is full of surprises

• Damn this guy with his mouth alongside his actions, one did mention how he isn’t going for those traditional stereotypes of those cliche knight in shining armor, and that makes him unique compared to those old-fashioned fairytale heroes. But then again, his flirtatious attempt is definitely bold — hell, it can even be described as foul if you may — and he isn’t shy away from it at all. If you think he is just a playful dork, then you’re an absolute idiot and I mean this in the most lovingly respectful way possible because surprise surprise, he manages to fool you into thinking that. I beg of you, don’t fall for it so easily. He is the type of guy whose touch will linger in that vulnerable spot of your body with a straight face while telling the things which he’d love to do to you with great pleasure. And good luck wiping that cocky grin off his face because he will act oblivious when you ask him to repeat what he just told you

• There are probably times when you have to physically shove him away when he suddenly thinks it was a good idea to whisper those suggestive things that belongs behind a closed bedroom’s door into your ears while you were minding your own business. And to make it worse, he is definitely not going to shy out even when you two are out there in front of other people. He does it not just for the thrill, but to get your attention from whatever you’re doing at the moment to him instead as well. Two birds with one stone, it’s still a win for him. Even when you’re talking with someone longer than he likes, that isn’t going to stop him from keeping his voice low enough for only you to hear. At least now he has your attention, not them. Is he petty? The answer is yes. But a slap or two on his helmet absolutely worths everything he says. He is impossible, and you know it well enough due to how long you two have been traveling together. Yet you can’t help but love it as much as it annoys you, no?

• He will definitely invite you to stand on his flying sword then charge forward just for the laugh of the situation. One thing for sure is that he will be a huge tease about it, or in a more casual way of saying it— yeah he will be an absolute dick during the entire ride, especially in the few first attempts of you two flying together. Egobworder will pretend that he has lost control over the sword because of how he claims that he isn’t used to flying with another person before, then will fake a chaotic landing which he accidentally drops you, just to fly downward and hold you in his arms gracefully like you weight a feather in his embrace. Yeah it’s absolutely valid for you to be upset with him afterwards. Don’t worry, it’s only one time, next time he promises that he will pull no stunt for your sake. But still, kick his ass, let it be a warning to that guy to never do that again

• Speaking of that, his sword technically isn’t the best type of transportation that can carry two people at the same time since it can be a bit cramped. Not that he mind though, but for the sake if your comfort, it’s up to you really. Unless you’re fine with standing in front of him with both of his hands holding your waist with a firm grip to keep you safe while flying while he is dangerously close to you, then you probably need a horse, or anything else that can help you to move around. It’s your choice whether you want to go with really. Fair warning though, good luck finding a horse that is fast enough to catch up with Egobworder at a decent price. But if you don’t want to get another vehicle to travel, feel free to stand in front of him on his sword anytime you want

• It’s clear as day at how he can be quite an asshole too. That previous mentions of him and his damn random urge are just a few honorable mentions, because there are still more of it, and they just get even more questionable from time to time. One time he deadass asked you if you want to share this drink of a funny-suspicious-looking potion he found in the random treasure chest with him, and when you figured that it was a shrink potion, you almost straggled him right there and right now if he didn’t start to run away. Okay, that can be count as an accident. But that time when you strayed away from the original plan and was captured in a hanging cell? What did he do? He took his sweet time laughing at you while beating the guards up. Even when he had the keys, he still insisted on making you beg for it just so he could get a good laugh out of the situation

• Yet despite all of that, you can’t deny that he genuinely cares about you. He just got a funny way of showing it. Maybe that’s just how he is, you should have known better than assuming that facade of him as who he actually is. Trust me when I say this, no matter how ridiculous his scheme can be, Egobworder holds you dear close to his heart. As much as it’s funny as hell when he pokes fun at you lightheartedly, he will immediately stop when he knows that you’re uncomfortable with it just by looking at the change in your usual expression. Who is it that carries you in such firm embrace when you have fallen ill to seek around for a medic? Who is it that has your back if not almost all of the time so he can protect you? Who is it that risk breaking his own favorite flying sword just to save you in the nick of time? You already know the answer, don’t you? Egobworder does it all for you because he actually cares for you more than anything else

• Don’t let that asshole fool you with that easy-going persona, he can actually be pretty protective of you whenever the times come. After all, you’re his partner — both in traveling and romantic senses, he puts those two together since it does makes sense, get it? Partner and partner romantically? — it’s his responsibility to look after you and to make sure that you’re safe with your head attached to your neck. He loves messing around with you, sure, but if other does that? Not on his watch. No one messes with his partner but him. And if they can’t take a hint to leave you out of the conversation, then he will just pick you up, throw you onto his shoulder like a potato sack then fly away immediately after throw the unfortunate dumbass into the well with one hand only. You do remember that he’s still strong as hell, right? It’s important that you keep it in mind, because you’re the brain and he’s the brawn in this dynamic

• That is to say, he can be a romantic partner when he feels like it. It’s not too obviously different from his other playful tease though, because unexpectedly, he knows how to get embarrassed too when he has to admit that it’s something more than just an ordinary flirt he just throws at you. Other than those chaotic jabs, he does have his serious intimate moments with you when the time comes. The most noticeable change is that he seems to be quieter than when he is being a nuisance just to get a reaction out from you. He doesn’t use his words much anymore, though his touch starts to linger on your hand, reluctant to let go before has the courage to hold onto to it. Another thing is that he will pull out unpredicted things that will catch you off guard. Like that time when he was resting close to you at your camp then decided to plug a flower nearby and put it in your pocket. Or when he began to twirl you around gently under the moonlight asking for a slow dance. What’s actually in this guy’s mind? Well, we might never know

• During the time you two travel together, he will tell you all of the tales about his past adventures. It will certainly amaze you, hearing just how much had he accomplished before meeting you. He will tell you stories of those faraway land which are full of jaw-dropping scenery, those bloodshed he has to deal with for the sake of the people he wants to protect, those exotic creatures that can only be imagined by slumbering into the dreamland, and so on. It’s marvelous, and he definitely has the voice of the storyteller, if you know what I mean. And well, he might exaggerate a few parts of it just for dramatic effect, claiming that he should have had his own epics by now so everyone can hear about ‘the tales of the almighty and handsome Egobworder’ — his words, not mine — heck, his pride is definitely something else. But hey, most of it is accurate to what exactly happened, he isn’t just pulling your leg by making things up on spot. If you want to, he can definitely schedule a plan for the future to revisit where he used to go through, aside from those where he has to hide his face because of not-so-legal things, of course

• He had his worries too. Egobworder just doesn’t like to show it to people around him, especially you. And hell, he did a great job hiding it all behind a cheeky smile. Egobworder doesn’t want to regret any decision he made, but sometimes he can’t help beating himself up in his mind when thinking of what if instead of doing this, he could have done that for the better. He carries his thoughts by himself because that’s what he is used too. And don’t get me started on how he would probably bite his own tongue rather than burden you with his nonsense. He is worried about fate, worried about himself, worried about the consequences of his potential flaw and of course, worried about you. It takes time for you to actually break down the towel of walls he has built up around his concern. And yes, please be patient with him. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to help, but he isn’t used to being helped. But once he learned to do so, he would show you just how much he appreciated you

• For someone like him, companionship worths much more than any promised treasure he could even imagine. He doesn’t get attached easily based on how open-minded he is when it comes to exploring the world, but guess that you have managed to become his exception. At first he simply thinks of you as someone who fate has led him to so that you shall become his partner, the one that will share his burdens and join him in laughters. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet when he looks at you now, why does he feel his heartbeat quickened? Just from the sight of you? Heck, Egobworder used to think that he would never be the type to settle down, he is too wild for that. And then you just have to hop into the picture to prove him wrong. Ironically, he adores it. He adores you, romantically

• The bound between the two of you is deep enough for you two to understand each other without a word spoken. You know that he looks at you with the same love you carry in your eyes ever since you lay your eyes on him. It takes time before it starts to hit him like a pillow of rose being shoved into his face, yet he isn’t against it. At first he would reconsider his own feelings properly, just to realize he has already seen you as something more than just ‘companion’. Your love is reciprocated before he even acknowledges it. Good lord, it makes him feel like an idiot. Though when he looks into your eyes, suddenly everything is fine again. Give him a good while to choose his words before have the serious talk with you about how he feels, it will be worth it, I promise

• You aren’t just a random partner he decides to scoff up out of nowhere to stay by his side through these endless adventures, you are more than just that. More than just a normal companion - you are his beloved treasure. All those time he has spent with you, it makes him feel like he has known you for an eternity. You give him that familiar warmth which he thought that he would have forgotten it by now with how much he paced around from here to there. As corny as it might sound, but you have become the home where his heart rests. He doesn’t say it often in serious manner, but Egobworder loves you. He really does, don’t think that he isn’t capable of staying faithful to his sweetheart, you will be surprised if that is what you had in mind. Jokes aside, you aren’t just a wonderful experience of which he has the pleasure to bound with, you are his everything. And he will thank the stars and whoever above for blessing him with the presence of you, his upmost precious treasure

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: For the dear customer who requested him, in all due respect, please count your days because I physically have to dwell into my mind to give him a proper personality (ﾟ∀ﾟ) Jokingly of course, but damn this one is definitely tough-

Note 2: Consider this my red envelope to you, dearest customers!