#but i couldn’t not immortalise it

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

tiny little nose biff

[therealcocoshady]

Hi coco , I don’t know if your still doing requests if not juts by past this .

Fem reader x Marshall

Reader is some sort of celebrity and her and Marshall’s sex tape gets leaked

SECRETS OUT - ONE SHOT

Eminem x Celebrity Reader

Author’s note : Thank you so much for your request. I Hope you like it ❤️. I thoroughly enjoyed writing one shots and HCs so if you have requests, feel free to send them to me in my Ask.

Synopsis : You’re a prominent influencer, having a secret relationship with Em for years. None of you intend on making it public… until your sextape gets leaked.

When you started dating Marshall, the two of you had a serious talk about how important it was to him that your relationship remained private. He knew that you shared a lot of your life online - hell, it was kind of your job as an influencer - and respected it, but he was adamant about not being featured on your social media accounts and YouTube channel. You respected his wish. To be honest, you were a little relieved : your last relationship had ended because of public scrutiny and you didn’t want history to repeat itself. Especially since the person you were dating was a megastar. No offense to your ex, who was still a very successful influencer, but next to Marshall Mathers, he was chopped liver. If publicly dating someone with ten million YouTube followers was hard, you couldn’t imagine how it would be if everyone knew you were dating Eminem.

You actually did a good job at keeping your followers and his fans in the dark about your relationship. To everyone, the both of you were single and, even though they were rumours about the two of you dating other public figures, you had never been linked together. No one expected you, a twenty-something fashion and beauty influencer to date Eminem. From the looks of it, you didn’t have much in common and didn’t run in the same circles.

So your relationship flew under the radar for years and you even managed to get married without the public knowing. You had the most beautiful wedding, held in a secluded location with only your closest friends, with a lot of logistics and NDAs involved. Everyone joked that you had to be the only influencer who didn’t share the most important day of their life on social media. Especially when the wedding was so insta-worthy. A few years ago, you would have been a little bummed about it, but being with Marshall kept you grounded and reminded you that not everything was meant to be shared online. If anything, the secrecy of your wedding and the « no phones or camera allowed » rule allowed everyone to enjoy the moment instead of focusing on filming it or snapping pictures of their plates or outfit. That didn’t mean there were no pictures taken though. The only person who immortalised the wedding was the photographer and, though guests were sent the pictures, they were asked not to share, and everyone respected your wishes.

Just because the two of you didn’t share pictures online didn’t mean you didn’t take plenty. In fact, your phones were full of cute selfies of the two of you. At the beginning of your relationship, he often made fun of your habit to try and immortalise moments, but he ended up getting into it. When the two of you met, he was still using an old BlackBerry and took the crappiest selfies, but you managed to turn him into the perfect Instagram husband. In fact, he was the one who helped you do your daily outfit posts and he was more than decent at telling you how you should pose. And if he was a bit judgy of influencers at first, he had come to understand your line of work and your love of fashion. He was extremely supportive of every thing you did and his eyes were gleaming with adoration when he was watching you film your videos, though he still liked to tease you.

One evening, during your honeymoon, you found him filming himself in the mirror as you walked out of the bathroom in your finest, sluttiest lingerie.

- What are you doing ? You giggled.

- Immortalising the outfit. So, it’s simple, the boxers are Givenchy, fall collection… care to share yours ? He chuckled as he pointed the phone to you.

- So tonight, I’m wearing a gorgeous Dita Von Teese set, you said as you posed and played along. We have this gorgeous corset, and the panties are amazing, too…

- Turn around and show the back, babe, he instructed. You’re gorgeous.

This became a little game that you played during the whole honeymoon. Each night, Marshall filmed you in your lingerie, under the pretense that he wanted to remember your honeymoon as vividly as possible. This made you laugh and you let him. It started as « innocent » « outfit of the night » videos but, on occasion, you both felt frisky and ended up filming a literal sex tape, or rather a series of them. Nothing especially elaborate, just one of you holding the phone while doing the deed, just for laughs. You didn’t even watch them after or think about it. It was really just the two of you clowning around, making fun of your own IG account and enjoying your honeymoon. Once you got back home, you didn’t keep it going and eventually came to forget there were videos of you and Marshall having sex on his phone. Until the videos were leaked, that is.

You had been married for about six months and enjoyed your weekly brunch with Marshall’s daughters when they suddenly went silent, after Stevie showed her sisters something on her phone.

- Oh my God, I’m going to puke, Stevie said.

- Girls, no phone at the table, Marshall groaned.

- Have you guys… seen the news ? Hailie asked.

- What news ? You asked back, a tad confused.

- The Pistons headline, Alaina said.

- What’s wrong with the team ? Marshall asked with a raised eyebrow.

The girls frowned and stayed silent for a second before handing the phone to the two of you. There was an article about you and Marshall, soberly titled : « Detroit’s ultimate Piston : Eminem sextape leaked (featuring influencer Y/N ». The headline was enough to make you want to die. The article wasn’t much better. It commented on the videos and showed a few screenshots of tweets reacting to the leak such as « Bro can’t take a decent selfie but you can trust him to point the camera at his dick correctly 👀 » or « Damn. He’s 51 but Y/N’s the one who’s gonna need hip replacement surgery with these trusts 💀». You and Marshall stared at each other while the girls were looking at you. You felt humiliated. Not only were the videos leaked online, you were confronted by your step-daughters - though they were old enough to be your sisters - about it. You looked down, absolutely mortified.

- Don’t watch these, Marshall told his daughters.

- Like we’d want to see that, Stevie pointed out.

- Really, guys, a sextape ? Alaina asked. Dad, you’re 51 !

- I’m going to be sick, you said as you left the table and headed to your room.

You heard Marshall calling your name but there was absolutely no way you could face anyone right now. Once you were alone, you anxiously checked your phone. Of course, everyone was in a frenzy. Your manager was texting you and your social media accounts were flooded. Both in the comments and your DMs, people were going crazy and talking about the videos. You already had a huge following, but it was something else entirely. You immediately called your manager, who was beyond pissed. Apparently, some brands you collaborated threatened to sever their ties with you. Of course, you getting rammed on video didn’t really fit in with your usual good girl image and it wouldn’t be a good look for them. Now, not only were you ashamed but you were also terrified. You had worked too hard for your career to crumble that easily.

- What should I do ? You anxiously asked.

- For now, nothing, she said. I’m going to consult with a few people to see what we can do for damage control. Though if I were you I’d get ready to film an apology video.

- I didn’t do anything wrong, you pointed out. These videos were not meant to be shared.

- You know how it is, Y/N. I’ll get back to you ASAP.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly. Talk to you soon.

When you hung up, you couldn’t resist the temptation to go and check other articles. Obviously, news traveled fast and you were now a trending subject. Marshall being the more famous of the two of you, his name was on every headline but, from the looks of it, you were the one whose reputation was suffering the most. While everybody seemed to praise his performance - and impressive physique - you were deemed a slut by the Internet. Even worse, some people were already making memes with your face and some rappers beefing with Marshall were reposting them. You had always been a « glass half-full » type of person but you literally wanted to die. In a flash, it seemed like you could kiss your career and reputation goodbye.

After about an hour, Marshall joined you in the bedroom and took you in his arms while you were sobbing.

- Hey, he said sheepishly.

- I-I’m sorry, you said. But I can’t go and face your daughters. I just can’t. I can’t face anyone right now, I-I…

- It’s fine, he replied before kissing your forehead. I sent them home.

- Im sorry, you said. I know how much family brunch means to you…

- As it turns out, having your kids lecture you about your leaked sextape isn’t as fun as people make it out to be, he said sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but chortle. Even in this type of dramatic situations, you could always count on Marshall’s dry humor. He placed another kiss on your forehead and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- We’ll be fine, he said reassuringly. Don’t worry, babe.

- Why aren’t you freaking out ? You asked. You should be freaking out.

- Oh, I’m freaking out, he said. I mean, I’m livid. But on a practical level, I know people will forget about it eventually, you know.

- Easy for you to say, you pointed out. The Internet is raving about the size of your dick and commenting about how in shape you are for an older dude… meanwhile, people are calling me a slut.

- You’re not a slut, he said as he rolled his eyes.

- Tell that to the thousand of people calling me a rapper groupie or whatever that is, you groaned.

- Doesn’t matter, he shrugged. We both know that’s not true. You’re not a groupie, you’re my wife.

- Well I’m about to be a stay at home wife, you said with tears in your eyes. I had my agent on the phone and sponsors are already breaking contracts… I-I’m losing everything, Marshall…

The tears started streaming down again. Mentioning the situation out loud was upsetting, it only meant it was real. You were really on the verge of losing everything. Your husband knew better than anyone how much your career meant to you, the work you put in and everything you had invested to be successful. To you, it wasn’t just a job : it was your dream. You had always tried your best to have a pristine reputation as an influencer and stay out of drama but now, people were looking down on you and calling you names. And you dreaded the perspective of doing an apology video. It was humiliating. In most recent years, you had focused your content on beauty and fashion instead of your private life but now, it was up for public consumption. Marshall held you tight as you told him about the comments you received and how sad you were about losing collaborations you were looking forward to.

- You don’t need these people’s money, he said.

- You know it’s not a matter of money, you replied curtly. It’s never only been about money. It’s more than that.

- I know, he said. But look, these videos were stolen from us. And if these brands who put that much effort into building a so-called relationship with you drop you easily, it’s not worth it. They should be sending you flowers and publicly supporting you.

- You know that’s not how it works, you sighed.

- All I’m saying is that it’s unfair, he said. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. But I know you. You’re strong and you’re resilient. And your followers love you. You’re not going to lose your career over this.

- I’ll do my best, you shrugged. My agency wants me to film an apology video.

- Are they serious ? He groaned. You don’t have to apologise for shit. These videos were fucking stolen, Y/N !!!

He was clearly mad. Funnily enough, he seemed more angry over the unfairness of the situation than the fact that everyone could see him having sex on video. But then again, it probably had something to do with his reputation being pretty intact. Sure, that would probably earn him a few lines in diss tracks people might be tempted to put out, but there wasn’t much to be ashamed of, as far as he was concerned. First of all, the videos clearly made a good job of shutting down rumours about his size, and he still came across as someone who had sex. On the other hand, you were more visible on the videos and earning a reputation of an easy and slutty influencer, hungry for fame. Typical double standard. You cursed whoever had managed to steal these videos. And deep down, you were mad that they had been so easily stolen.

- Why were they stolen in the first place ? You groaned.

- What ? He asked. You know how it is… people’s phones get hacked all the fucking time. Whoever did that was probably hoping to get their hands on new music. Joke’s on them, though. We only function with CDs to avoid this type of leaks.

- Joke’s on them ?! You almost yelled. The joke is on me !!! I couldn’t care less about your CDs. No offense but I’d rather have your album leaked than my career ruined, Marshall !!!

- Sorry, he said as he nervously scratched his beard. Poor choice of word. Of course it’s worse. What I mean is… hacks happen all the time. Every month there’s a new story about a celebrity’s phone or computer or cloud being hacked.

- And I’m usually over here, making fun about people who don’t know how to protect their data, you said as you rolled your eyes. The most basic thing to do is to at least put this type of photos in a folder that requires double authentication.

- Double what ?

He looked at you with big eyes. Of course, he had no idea what you were talking about. « That’s what you get for marrying a dummy when it comes to technology », you thought. You didn’t want to get mad at him, but you were pissed. You rolled your eyes at him and let your head fall on the pillow.

- I have to go and call Paul, he said. We’re both going to have to do damage control. But we’ll be fine, I promise you.

- Mmmmh, you groaned.

- I’ll do my best to find whoever did that and sue their ass, he assured you. And whoever shares these videos, too. When we got married, I swore I would protect you and you best believe I’m making good on that.

- Thanks, you said sheepishly.

The following couple of days were especially tough. News had obviously traveled fast and everyone in your life knew about the videos. You thought facing Hailie, Alaina and Stevie was hard, but FaceTiming with your parents was even harder. You could tell they were disappointed, and mostly worried for you. Both of your management teams were trying to find the best way to get through it. Unfortunately, crisis management wasn’t the same for a rapper as it was for an influencer. Marshall’s team advised him to stay silent while yours was almost begging you to address the elephant in the room, preferably with your husband, who was an ogre about it.

- I’m not appearing in your damn apology video, he groaned. It’s stupid enough that you have to do one of these.

- I have to do what’s best for my career, you pleaded.

- You always said these videos were disingenuous, he pointed out.

- Well, yes, but what am I going to do ? You groaned. Disappear and kiss my career goodbye ? And I’m not you, Marshall. I can’t just ignore it and go back to posting videos as if nothing happened.

He hummed and you kept talking about it, trying to come up with a solution. You weren’t thrilled about the idea of addressing the situation and he was right : you had nothing to apologise for. And he was fully against the idea of standing next to you like a First Lady while you filmed something so silly. Of course, it turned into an argument. There was only so much pressure you could take. And you knew Marshall was doing his best and keeping in touch with his lawyers, but you were mad that he wouldn’t support you publicly.

- I’m asking you to stand next to me for a damn video, that’s all, you sighed. I’m not asking for the moon, here. You don’t even have to say anything.

- Then what’s the point in me being here at all ? He shrugged. We agreed that I would be kept out of your content, Y/N. That was clear from the start.

- Because everyone thinks I’m a whore ! You yelled. I was fine with people not knowing about us, but I am not fine with people calling me a rapper whore. And I am not fine with my husband not supporting me. You said we were a team ! You promised to care for me and protect me for the rest of our lives. Or were these vows just words to you ?!?!

You knew he would be pissed off by your words. He had always made it clear that his vows were absolutely serious and solemn. And you knew for a fact that he had put a lot of heart and thought into writing them. He didn’t say anything, just sighed and left the room. Obviously, you both needed to take time off because this escalated into an argument. You groaned and stayed in the bedroom, which you had barely left since the videos had leaked.

A couple of hours later, you went downstairs and found Marshall watching some boxing match on TV.

- Hey, you said sheepishly.

- Hey, he simply said.

- Look, I’m sorry, I…, you began.

- Don’t sweat it, he shrugged as he gestured for you to come sit on his lap.

You sat on him and watched with him in silence, enjoying the sensation of his arms wrapped around your waist. When the match ended, he turned off TV and smiled at you.

- I took care of things, he said.

- You did ? You asked.

- I did, he confirmed. You don’t need to film that stupid video.

- What did you do ? You asked with a raised eyebrow.

He seemed pretty sure of himself, proud even, and you tried hard not to show it, but you were still a bit doubtful.

- Check Instagram, he simply said as he handed you your phone.

You nervously checked your account. You were tagged in thousands of new posts. Only these weren’t posts of the sex videos. Your account was flooded with pictures of your wedding, posted by your friends and reposted by tons of fan accounts. Your closest influencer friends had posted the beautiful pictures of them with you at the wedding. Marshall’s friends had done the same : 50, Dre, Porter, Royce… everyone was posting about your nuptials. The most beautiful shot was the one shared by Marshall on his account : a gorgeous black and white shot of the two of you after the reception, holding hands and staring at the fireworks, captioned : « For better & for worse. Happy 6 months anniversary. ». Everyone was going absolutely crazy in the comments, not failing to show their surprise and mentioning that he was now following one account : yours. You looked at him, almost crying and took him in your arms.

- Oh my God, you said. I can’t believe you did this.

- Called in a few favors and asked our friends to post the wedding pictures, he said with a smile. I figured the Internet would focus on these rather than the videos. So far it seems to be working…

- You didn’t have to, you said emotionally. I know you wanted to keep the wedding a secret.

- I also wanted to keep our sex life secret, he chuckled. But I care more about you and supporting you. Now, everyone knows I have your back. Until death do us part. And if anyone dares come for you, I will end them. I promise.

- I love you, you said emotionally.

- I love you too, he replied before kissing you. I’m sorry I was grumpy about the whole thing. You were right, these vows were never meant to be just words. I want to put them in action.

You kissed him passionately and you both took a minute to enjoy the posts everyone made about your wedding, reminiscing about that special day.

- I’m happy I don’t have to make that stupid apology video, you confessed.

- Me too, he chuckled. I did make an apology though.

- You did ? You asked in surprise.

He showed you his IG story. A black screen with simple text - in true influencer fashion : « I want to take a minute to apologize about the videos that have been leaked. I am sorry if anyone was confused. They were misleading and I want to state that the boxers were actually not Givenchy but Calvin Klein. Sorry for the confusion. 👀». You chortled and kissed him.

- What ? That was the only thing worth an apology, he pointed out with a smile.

- You’re such a troll, you said as you playfully rolled your eyes.

You spent the following days in bliss, showered with love from both your followers and his fans. Everyone was going crazy about your wedding and, even though there were still mentions of the sextape, most of the attention was focused on your relationship. Both of your management teams were also happy to put the incident behind them, though now they had to deal with plenty of interview requests. However, you agreed that even though your secret was out, nothing would really change. You slowly got back to business. Though nothing didn’t really change for Marshall - who was always in hermit mode in the studio - you had a lot of new followers and tons of collaboration requests. The sponsors who had been quick to drop you even came back and attempted to suck up to you, though you absolutely refused to work with them again. You were in your home office, reviewing partnership requests when you came across the biggest offer of your career : none other than Calvin Klein wanted you to be the new face of their underwear campaign, offering you a shit ton of money. It was the biggest opportunity you had ever received but you were a bit nervous when you mentioned it to your husband.

- What do you think ? You asked after you brought it up to him.

- I think we’ve established that you look good in underwear, he grinned.

- Yes but that would be banking on our sextape, our relationship… would it be ok with you ? You asked.

- I’ll cut you a deal : I’m ok with you doing that campaign if you’re ok with me using your moans as ad libs, he said with a smirk.

- You can’t be serious, you giggled as you rolled your eyes.

- What ? He chuckled. We’re partner in life, we might as well be business partners.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Jason Todd with an s/o who enjoys making art of him? Sketches, paintings, etc.

Jason never saw himself as ever being a muse for someone else’s art, their reason to immeditly rush to their sketch pads or canvas and let the ideas flow out and take form however that maybe.

It was a reality he had came to accept until you came along and happily challenged this view he had on himself, and without fail you’ve proven him wrong again and again on multiple occasions.

Finally he had became a muse to somebody and he couldn’t help but be touched and feel extremely loved and appreciated whenever you shown him a simple sketch of him doing something mundane, whether that be making dinner for you both or reading a book, you just had a way of showing him how you see him through your art.

‘It’s a simple sketch I made this morning, nothing fancy.’ You’d shrug as Jason looked over your drawings of him and smiled.

‘If this is what you call a simple sketch then I’m all out of luck in ever attempting to take up drawing, this is amazing sweetheart!’ He’d say as he peppered your face with sweet, thankful kisses before moving away to look at the drawing once more, taking note on how much attention to detail there was in what you claimed was a simple sketch.

You drew him with such love for everything that made him in his entirety. You took extra care in drawing his every scar that littered his body, big and small. From the largest scar running from his collarbones and down his entire upper body, to the various scars scattered on his neck, forearms, hands and back.

You didn’t try to hide his impurities and instead actively chose to emphasise them in a way that he never thought existed. You didn’t try to make him look palatable nor tried to draw/paint him in anyway that wasn’t true to his character and he loved it. He loved the fact that you saw him for who he was and found him worth spending hours upon hours of drawing for.

‘I’m sure you’ll pick it up jay bird, besides I like drawling you.’ You admit.

‘Why?’ He asks softly.

‘What?’

‘Why do you like drawing me? What is it about me that worth immortalising on a canvas or in the pages of a sketchbook?’ Jason says as he looks at other sketches/paintings you’ve done of him in your spare time and felt his heart grow bigger with each and every one he came across.

You even sketched him in that stupid bunny onesie that Dick got him after loosing a bet, much to his dismay and the rest of his family’s amusement. Once upon a time he would’ve been ashamed at that his most embarrassing moment had been sketched out onto paper, but now he just shrugs and laughs it off, finally finding it funny as everyone else did at the time.

‘Because everything about you is worth immortalising, whether it be as a sketch or as a painting, you -Jason Todd- are worth remembering well into the future.’ You tell him as you took the sketchbook out of his grasp and settled it aside to hold his face in your hands, smiling upon seeing him melt deeper into your touch. ‘I didn’t feel like portraying you in any way that wasn’t true to who you are, at least in my eyes.’ You add.

‘And what do I look like in your eyes?’ Jason speaks barely above a whisper as he looks at you with storm grey eyes, a stark difference to the bright cobalt blue of his youth.

‘Perfectly imperfect.’ You kiss his forehead. ‘A Human with a heart of pure gold despite everything you’ve been through.’ You press another kiss to his nose. ‘A true protector of Gotham who bares the scars to prove it every night.’ You finished praising him by place a soft kiss to his plush, slightly chapped lips and pressing your forehead against his. ‘You’re Jason Todd. My muse.’

[theaceofshovels]

There is something to be said about the connection between man and shark…

Couldn’t be me, making a joke about giving Izzy a Blahaj and then proceeding to think about whole au based on the emotional significance he puts on this stupid shark plush.

Bonus:

I decided he would go to great efforts to make the shark to different things and then ask Lucius to draw it in order to immortalise it. Lucius, while sceptical at first, eventually goes alone with this after realising what the shark means to him. The shark’s name is Eddie btw :)

[honeylullaby]

You have bewitched me, body and soul.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by my sweet @megangovier 🫶🏽 / Although he finds dates terribly tedious, Rupert has to show up for his lady…

18+ FANFIC / Super sweet date with Rupert! Short Work. Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

To put it bluntly, Rupert had been awful recently. Not returning your calls, smugly dismissing your idea of a date, jetting off to The Maldives right before your important appraisal at work. So you were more than surprised to hear the raucous beeping of a car outside your tiny cottage nestled into the bosom of Rutshire, and even more surprised to see Rupert — dressed impeccably in a two-piece grey suit — draped into his Porsche convertible on this fresh, bright Summer morning. Dressed rather elegantly in a loose white linen dress, blindingly white kitten heels and your tawny hair scraped into a bun, a few tendrils of loose curls escaping.. you pulled open the door and laughed defeatedly as Rupert wiggled his eyebrows towards you suggestively.

“What on Earth are you doing here?” You asked, feigning displeasure and crossing your arms over your chest. “I’ve been a terrible shit lately, angel. I’m sorry. Get in.” He called out to you, watching on smugly as he saw you spin to lock your door. Clambering into the passenger seat, you giggled in delight as the Porsche sped off, rolling over the hills of Penscombe. “Where are we going?” You question, closing your eyes and basking as the sunlight enveloped you like a warm embrace. “You’ll see.” He teased, waving every few moments to passer-by’s who undoubtedly recognised him and swooned at being noticed.

You paid no real attention as the car approached the heart of Cotchester, slowly beginning to halt outside the library. Cotchester Library was most certainly a grand building — made of limestone and magnificently large. “The library? You told me this was the worst idea for a date you could think of.” You tutted, hopping out of the car and frantically trying to maintain Rupert’s pace as he wandered through the doors. Whilst he did think the library was excruciatingly tedious, he would most certainly endure it to see that twinkling smile on your lips. You were most certainly in your element.

-

Meandering through the library’s aisles at a lackadaisical pace, Rupert began to tear books away from their shelf. “1801 - I have just returned from a visit to my landlord… Dear God, this is just a diary. What is this drivel?” He questioned, rolling his eyes pompously. “Wuthering Heights,” You whispered, prising the book from between his fingers, “It’s a love story. Between a strong-willed heroine and the Byronic hero that falls in love with her.” You inform him, an air of a chastising tone in your voice. Rupert rolled his eyes once more and continued to silently judge the literature section. “Do you… have a favourite book then?” Rupert attempted to whisper, and couldn’t quite believe he was asking such a mundane question. “I do, actually.” You mutter, and pull out Pride and Prejudice. “I’ve read this.” Rupert enlightened you as his eyes scanned the title, and your heart could’ve flipped itself over in delight. He took a hold of your hands and cupped them over his chest, allowing you to feel his heart thumping rhythmically in his chest. “You have bewitched me, body and soul. And I love, I love, I love you.” He quoted before planting a soft kiss on your lips.

There was no love story that you adored more than that of yours and Rupert’s — the intimacy written between these lines forever immortalising your fairy tale.

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗹

paring: amy march x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, cute, kinda spicy towards the end but it mostly fluff and cuteness and amy kinda worshiping r, period piece, wlw established relationship

warning(s): hint of smut/spicy, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 1.1k

note: A little Amy March appreciation post. I just... I guess the Bridgerton hype is getting to me and with that comes the Amy hype back again. Hope you all enjoy this one, it's kinda based off of titanic (if you couldn't tell). I love you, M <3

requests are open! + check my rules + masterlist <3

“What are you doing?” you whispered right into her ear, causing Amy to jump on the spot a little. 

“Do not do that, Y/n,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I apologise,” you said, chuckling as you kissed her temple. “What are you up to?”

“I’m just trying to find something to paint.”

“What are your options so far?”

“Well, this bowl of fruits,” she pointed to her left. “Or that one,” she pointed to her right.

“Again?” you asked, scoffing and raising your brow at her. 

“I guess I could paint that vessel with the yellow flowers, they are nice, aren’t they?” she said, lost in her thoughts.

“You know, the other day, Aunt March showed me some French painting…”

“Did she now?” she said, gathering her things to paint the flowers, only half listening to your words.

“Yes, they were quite… interesting,” you said, mischief filing your voice.

“How so?”

“Well… they were lovely women, beautiful really…”

“Yes?” Amy was paying attention to you, she was trying at least, but her brain chose to focus more on the flowers in front of her. 

“And they were… um… naked.”

Amy stood still for a second at your words, but then continued on as if it was nothing. Because in reality it wasn’t, the French had a thing for the human body, so what? It annoyed her, just a little, that you saw other women naked. But as long as her body was the only one you would touch, then she could do peace with it.

“They were fascinating, breathtaking even. Imagine being immortalised that beautifully.”

“Mmmh,” Amy agreed. 

“I would love for someone to do that for me…” you said, enough with the playing around and getting to the point.

And then you had Amy’s whole attention. “Are you saying that you would stand, naked, in front of a man, just so he could paint you? That you would gladly expose your body?” she said sternly.

“No! God, no,” you scoffed. “You would paint me.”

You smile as you watch her cheeks turning red. It was no surprise really, you had lost count of all the times you and Amy had seen the other naked, did things while at it. But despite Amy’s strong personality, deep down she was as shy as a baby deer.

She cleared her throat. “I think I have heard wrong, it was as if you wanted me to paint you—.”

“Like a French model,” you finished for her. “Yes, you heard correctly.”

“Naked?”

“Yes, that was the whole point of this conversation,” you chuckled, as you stepped closer to her and took away the paint brushes from her hands to warm them with your own. “I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, Ames,” you peck the back of her hands. “I just thought… I was not really thinking, actually. You said you were looking for something to paint, and the pictures Aunt March showed me just came to my mind. But if you do not wish to—.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure,” she interumped you. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am,” you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your lips.

“How do you want me then?”

“You remember the pictures, right? Just do as you please, but… um… naked,” she winked at you, turning around to find her paintings, a new canvas and her favourite paint brushes. 

You took the opportunity, as she wasn't looking, to undress yourself. As you peeled off piece by piece off your body, you felt the temperature in the room shift and realised it was a bit cold. But as you settled in your position and Amy finally looked at you, you felt your whole body burning with fire. 

“Is this okay?” you shyly asked. 

Her eyes trailed down your body, taking in every curve, your soft skin, your chest. She could even tell how hard and heavy your breathing had gotten, which caused a shiver to run down her spine. It was silly, really. She would wake up to your naked body as many mornings as she could, but seeing you in that perfect golden light, exposed for her eyes only, took her breath away.

“Perfect,” she managed to word out somehow. 

She took a deep breath, and let her mind thrift away, only one thought remained in her mind and that was you. She allowed herself to be taken away by her light brush strokes, she let herself capture the intensity in your eyes, the softness of your body, the sun kissing your skin. 

She was extremely immersed in the painting, that she felt as if it wasn't you who she was painting anymore. Sure, you were naked, the piece would tend to have some sexual appeal, but Amy felt as if she was painting something —someone— too pure to ever be turned into just a mere object of lust. She was sure she was painting the vivid image of an angel, and she couldn't believe that she had gotten so lucky to love and be loved by this angel.

“Almost done,” she muttered after what felt like ages, but really it was the fastest she had ever worked on a piece. There were still some more details to add, some lighting to be fixed, some shadows that looked odd. But she didn’t need you to keep on posing, to keep on being naked in the cold room. 

“Is it finished?” you asked in disbelief. 

“Not yet,” she chuckled. “I’ll keep on working on it later, I don’t need you to stand still.”

“I like being still if I have your eyes on me,” you grinned at her.

“I like it as well, but I can’t have you catching a cold,” she said, as she wrapped you around some warm coat she had lying around for the cold days.

“Thank you, for doing this,” you said, pecking her lips. 

“I have you to thank, my muse.”

“Oh, so now I am your muse,” you playfully scoffed, your arms snaking around her shoulder while hers found your waist.

“You always have been,” she muttered as she left a kiss in the corner of your jaw. “I just guess it’s now official,” she chuckled, her uneven breath sending chills up your spine.

“Is that so?” you giggled. “Then, please do tell me more about it,” you said, throwing your head back giving her access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“I don’t feel like talking right now,” she bit your skin. 

“What do you feel like doing?” you were already breathless.

“Well…” she said as her hands drifted away to the belt securing your coat.

“Oh, I see,” you laugh, bringing her lips to yours. 

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[randomyuu]

Yuuji bowl :D

Let’s have a go with All!Yuuji because why not :D

One day I found this fic titled everything i couldn’t save by lying_sun and it got me hooked. It’s not everyday I can find a good Yuuji bowl fic (mostly because I focused a bit too much on Goyuu but I digress)

Btw, is it Yuuji harem? Yuuji bowl??? What do you call a harem with Yuuji btw? I’m too lazy to do research on this topic—

Anyway! The time has come to shower Yuuji with more love. I really adore this fic. The deadly and powerful nature of Yuuji as Sukuna’s vessel, yet his ability and heart are that of a healer. It’s contrastingly beautiful. And it’s SFW! Fluff! Fluff! ✨Fluff! ✨ And of course, a bit of angst because why not :)

If you like a Healer!Yuuji as SaShiSu trio’s teacher, please give this fic a read!

This time, I have shorter thoughts so no Read More is needed :DD

What is the best way to include all Yuuji pairings in a fanart?

Stack them up of course! Squish them all into a small space!

Everytime I see Hidden Inventory Arc characters, it always feels like going back to the past. So the concept of immortalising this precious Yuuji bowl into a Polaroid photo feels fitting. And without me even realising it, the outcome feels… cheerful? A bit romcom-ish? Despite the amount of black clothes and hair, the vibe is really light. It feels weird as I usually draw in a rather sombre tone, but I found I like this kind of tone as well!

And also because Yuuji deserves all the love :”)

Ah, this fic is truly giving me “healer yuuji for the soul”. Beautiful.

As I drew this, the fic is almost finished, with the future last chapter being a Sukuna chapter! Since I was not sure what their dynamic would look like, I decided he would be a chibi (I was in the mood for a chibi and he’s my sacrificial lamb). It kind of indicates that he’s different. As in not having his own body and cannot hug Yuuji physically haha

Unless? 👀

Drawing them all was really fun! It was a bit tricky since I couldn’t find references for the pose so I just winging it with my available anatomy knowledge. Bless the college for having black uniforms. Helps a lot lol

Anyway, that’s it from me. I hope you enjoy the drawing, and also the fic if you ever decided to give it a read! I wish you all a pleasant weekend! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

[seethew3stwithm3]

frost on the eaves // j. miller

hi there :) it's been a while since i've been on tumblr, and i started completely anew with this account, so let me introduce myself. i'm clarke <3 i love to write, even though my creativity has been pretty shit for the past year. but here's a little something i jotted down while listening to phoebe bridgers' christmas music, because i love me some seasonal melancholy. have a wonderful holiday season. and i hope this is the first fic of many. much love, clarke x

(gender-neutral reader. you can imagine show or game joel, it's up to you <3) warnings: angst. a little bit of lightheartedness. the general melancholy at the end of the world. mentions of sarah.

Snow was no stranger to blood, not after all this time at the end of the world. Seasons changed, leaves fell, the sun burned, but Winter always came back around.

Blood dripped from Joel’s nose as he walked back to the house, stumbling a little in the fresh sleet. He swore to himself, an ache in his lower back becoming more apparent with every step he took, as he pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

The cold had always made his nose bleed.

Shoving through the door, he kicked the snow from his boots before leaning against the wall to unlace them. Ellie wasn’t around, or else she would’ve come bounding down the stairs to complain about the racket he’d made.

He was still getting used to not having her at his side, was still working on easing the panic that arose whenever she was out of his sight. They were in Jackson now, as safe as they’d probably ever get, but the decades of vigilance and paranoia, of never trusting anybody, would take just as much time to undo.

Ellie is fine, he reminded himself as he tugged off his boots, grunting in pain at the strain it put on his back.

Lifetimes ago, he would’ve spent tonight in front of a fireplace, wrapping gifts for a little girl whose squeals of delight still lingered faintly in the deepest trenches of his memory. Christmas had once been his favourite time of year, if only for the stupendous amount of joy it brought to Sarah.

Whether it was the glimmering strings of lights, the window displays at the mall, or the general sense of festivity, Sarah’s excitement was constant and infectious for the entire month of December. And, by God, did he miss that.

Joel didn’t let himself remember very often, for it always brought a heaviness with it that was difficult to shake. But just this once, on this cold winter’s night, he let himself recall the sound of his daughter’s laugh. Of the gleam in her eyes, the same shade as his, when she’d unwrapped the digital camera he’d bought for her when she was thirteen.

He’d blinked spots out of his vision for weeks, always caught off guard by the click and flash when Sarah had pointed the damn thing in his direction. He thought of the photo albums she’d filled with whatever provoked enough joy in a thirteen-year-old to immortalise it in a photograph, and wondered what had become of them.

They, like everything —his Sarah, the world— would, of course, be long gone.

With a long sigh, Joel rested his head against the door. In the dark of the hallway, he blinked back the sting of tears. Christmas Eve was different now, all he’d planned to do was down a glass of whiskey, a heavy pour seemed necessary tonight, and go to sleep.

If he was lucky, he’d sleep through Christmas Day altogether.

But the wood vibrated against his forehead as somebody knocked on his door. Huffing a sigh, he opened it. You were the last person he’d expected to see on his doorstep.

“Hi,” you said softly, clutching a thermos in your gloved hands, wearing a gentle smile. But that smile dipped as he stepped into the porchlight. “You’re bleeding.”

“What? Oh.” Joel wiped his nose with the back of his hand, but it was no use, the blood had dried and crusted. “It’s nothin’, come in. Just let me clean up.”

As he led you inside, he couldn’t help but think of the last time you’d graced this hall. It had been two weeks since you’d kissed him, and maybe he’d been out of his damn mind. In the days that followed, he’d made himself scarce, signing up for extra patrols despite the ache in his back. It was foolish, and he’d regretted it each night when pain had lanced up his spine, down through his knees, as he’d tried to sleep.

In the days that followed, he’d fought an internal battle. His relief at a gentle touch waged a losing war against his stubbornness, against his certainty that forging any kind of meaningful connection would only end badly. With loss or abandonment, and he’d faced too much of that. He couldn’t do it again. He just… couldn’t.

Damn him for craving the warmth of you.

“Joel?”

Your voice shook him from his thoughts, and he turned away from the sink where he’d been wiping the blood from his nose.

“Yeah?” He sniffed, relieved that he could breathe clearly now. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the counter.

“I’m sorry,” you said, gaze drifting from the window to his closed-off stance, then to the floor. “For the kiss, and everything. I… yeah.”

With a shrug, your whole demeanour changed. Softening, accommodating to the fizzling awkwardness, brushing it aside. Without ever giving Joel a chance to say anything.

“Anyway, I was going to go for a walk to look at the lights and the tree they put up by the dining hall. I made cocoa. And, well, I guess I came here to ask if you’d come with me?”

Joel nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah, sure, okay.”

A few minutes later, once Joel had tugged his boots back on, the two of you were out in the cold. It hadn’t snowed too heavily this morning, but the ground was a little icier than usual. You had to focus on each step you took to keep from slipping. But despite your vigilance, you stumbled.

Joel’s hand shot out to grab your elbow, stabilising you in an instant, as he’d done countless times on patrol, or wandering through Jackson. Once you were sure of your footing, you gently shrugged him off, giving him space. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want you, and you weren’t about to disrespect his boundaries by selfishly lingering close.

In the square, the tree they’d set up glimmered with lights. Handmade ornaments adorned the branches, the same ones you’d watched the kids put together in the dining hall last week when you’d been on dish duty after lunch. Painted pinecones, handsewn fabric stars, little bits and bobs and scraps that sparkled and shone.

A few others wandered by, holding steaming mugs of tea, all gathered to take in this sliver of rare festivity. Bundled up in coats and beanies, their breath like clouds in front of them. It was almost like Christmas before.

Settling down on a bench, you took a sip of cocoa from the thermos you carried. Joel grunted quietly; his hands braced on his knees as he sat down beside you. When you offered him the thermos, he took it graciously.

“This is good,” he murmured as he took another few mouthfuls before handing it back.

Minutes passed in silence, and snow began to fall. Little flurries that swept through the brightly lit city centre. Kids laughed, one of them was Ellie, running by with the friends she’d made.

Then it was quiet once more, and the gathered townsfolk left one by one, until the square was empty. Just you and Joel, alone in the snow, illuminated in a dusky glow.

“You didn’t have to apologise,” Joel said after a while, his voice a low rumble. It reminded you of glowing embers, warm, but only if you were close enough. “For kissin’ me, I mean. It was… I didn’t mind.”

You shrugged, setting the thermos on the ground between your feet. “It’s alright. There’re no hard feelings, Joel. The fact that you disappeared and didn’t speak to me for days said enough. It wasn’t… I should’ve asked, before just… yeah.”

The snow picked up, the only witness to this moonlit conversation. A few flakes caught in Joel’s hair, and you found yourself staring, even though you knew you shouldn’t.

“I didn’t… I don’t…” Joel sighed, running a hand down his face, brows furrowed. “I regret avoidin’ you—”

“I already said it’s fine, really—”

“No, ‘cause it made it seem like I didn’t want you when I did,” he grit out, something akin to shame in his voice. “When I do,” he amended.

A snowflake landed on your nose, a tickle of cold that you wiped away. Your heart thudded in your chest, and though you opened your mouth, no words came out.

“And if you’d let me, I’d… I’d like to kiss you.” Joel’s voice had never sounded so gentle.

Haloed in the dim glow, gilded with a faint golden gleam, he looked… different. Different to the Joel you’d always known. His ruggedness had softened at the edges, his dark gaze fixed on you, an almost imperceptible blush upon his cheeks.

There was kindness in him, you’d always known there was, despite his stern exterior. He just wanted to get by, and you understood that, because with the world as it was now, there was no room for gentleness or peace. It was best to grit your teeth, crack your knuckles, and take everything on the offense. Or, alternatively, take the defensive approach and drive yourself mad with paranoia, watching your back with an obsessive nature that slowly chipped away at your health.

Joel had found a sort of balance between the two, and kept his kindness hidden away, stamped down by the years of survival. He was faded photograph of passing time, with the smattering of grey in his hair, the lines on his forehead and the wrinkles by his eyes, the calluses on his hands and the scars on his knuckles.

It was as though the entire universe, whatever was left of it, weighed on his broad shoulders. And maybe it did. These days, everybody had a cross to bear, memories they’d rather forget.

But if this moment, whatever it was, could ease that ache in him, in you, even if just for a second… You’d take that chance. You’d spent a long time waiting for it.

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding slowly.

His hand came up to cup your cheek as he leaned in, and you were startled by the impulse that bloomed in your chest. The desire to just surrender. To take a moment of respite, alone here in his arms.

He tasted of hot cocoa and mint, and his lips were a little chapped from the cold. But the warmth that seeped into you was a pleasant embrace. And he kissed you like he’d done it a million times before, with a sort of assurance that only accompanied truly knowing somebody.

His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, and you pulled away. There was still time, you didn’t want to rush this. Whatever it might become.

“Merry Christmas, Joel,” you whispered into the silence, your forehead resting against his. Your eyes were shut, and you could feel the featherlight weight of snowflakes as they landed on your lashes.

“Merry Christmas.”

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

thanks for reading! i hope to be posting frequently, so if there's anything you'd like to read, send it in and i'll give it my best shot.

[melodic-haze]

☆ — SONG TITLE: I know what you tell your friends (it's casual)

☆ — PAIRING: mermaid!Kokomi x artist!Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW, bittersweet angst? I honest to god don't know

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: POTENTIALLY OOC for the purpose of the character......mostly, light depictions of blood, drowning

☆ — NOTES: HI ALL I DIED BUT WHO'S SHOCKED LMAO 😜😜 this is for @edgeray's Halloween event, though it's a bit late bc I was ill at the last week of it and I'm lazy😭 GO CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S STUFF HOLY HELL. Also, my interp of a mermaid is moreso leaning towards what people nowadays THINK sirens are. I js couldn't bear to USE 'siren' bc of how they're acc supposed to be like. Winged creatures, not fish people

☆ — WORD COUNT: 2,801 words

It was often said that one must not go into the beach all alone.

Naturally, people would often tell you of sensible reasons such as possibly having your fragile items like your phone being dropped into the sand or, god forbid, the water or losing said belongings if you were to ever leave them somehow.

However, the most notably repetitive reasoning came out to be the possibility of being missing.. or ‘taken by the sea’, as everyone else would say.

It was a lot easier to just say that someone was lost or missing, but there was a certain reason why most have opted to disregard practicality for the sake of glamorisation—where you live, there has been a concerning surplus of missing persons cases with their last-seen location all being the beach, the seaside, the shore, all the same thing. And no matter how much the police had tried to investigate it (and it’s crazy that they actually did try, though that might be due to government concern), they found nothing conclusive about how the victims disappeared.

Perhaps it was because of the tides washing any sort of evidence away, though such an assumption led to the cases all collectively being dismissed as a suicide because.. well, really, they had to put some sort of conclusion to the case when they couldn’t really find any other possible outcomes without it sounding like more of a conspiracy than it already was.

(Fat lot that did anyway, because you can’t even put nightwatch on post there without them getting taken too.)

..So to a normal person, being at the beach all alone with nothing but a phone and a sketchbook in hand in the middle of the night would equate to one of the dumbest things you can do out here.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about what would happen to you, or that you were experiencing that particular phase where you went against what was advised of you just because you wanted to be cool or popular or something (you weren’t a child, you were a grown adult with a life, for god’s sake), but oftentimes people like you all had one common flaw: artists were all dedicated to their craft, suffocatingly so.

And you were no exception, even if it had been too long since you drew with any sort of creative inspiration.

You remember when you walked back from god knows where and witnessing the way the moonlight hit the water, its gentle glow reflecting on the tide like fluid glass.

You remember that sweet dulcet tone stopping you in your tracks in the midst of your misery once your headphones lost power, the singing voice holding a certain alluring cadence that rooted you to the spot.

You remember the sight of dark crimson on shimmering claws and scales of blue, pink and purple, the palette much too distinct to be considered ‘natural’.

You remember the brief contact of eyes between your own and a set of glowing orbs that were no less striking than the tail that flapped behind the entity once it turned to have its body be entirely consumed by the ocean’s depths.

As an artist, you knew you had to immortalise the vision seared into your brain. And so, the day after that fateful encounter and consecutive days after that, you visited the beach at the exact time you remembered from before, picked up a pencil and opened your sketchbook to sketch like a madman possessed.

But of course as time passed, so did the freshness of your memory and your recollection of the details that had you entranced in the moment. The background itself? You had no problem. The issue was the oceanic figure; what details were you missing? What was its scale pattern? Was the red meant to mesh with the purple? What was it doing there?

Eventually you convinced yourself that maybe you were seeing things, and the messy scribbles of faint recollections were erased and drawn over with lines that connected the ever-flowing sea. Even when artists were seen as delusional, prone to confuse one thing with another—perhaps that thing was just a trick of the light, or maybe you’re starting to go insane, whichever tickled your fancy—you knew where to stop and come back to reality.

..Still doesn’t mean you had to keep coming back to the spot at the same time over and over again but alas, you couldn’t help it when you woke up at the dead of night just for your legs to lead you to the exact same spot you remember being at that very night.

Despite the constant warnings against the act of going to the beach all by yourself, nothing had happened to you or interrupted your creative flow despite being completely alone so the nights you spent on that exact spot were often peaceful, if a bit devoid of life. That was fine for you though, it meant less distractions from finally finishing this piece and moving on with your--

(You feel warm breath against your skin before you hear--)

“What are you doing?”

You startle, the pencil losing its gentle stability and creating an atrocious line across the page, and for a moment the irritation actually takes over any form of self-preservation you have.

So you start to complain, “I was drawing until you scared me—” then you turn to look at her, "—and made me ruin my own--"

...

Shimmering blue.

"..work."

Your speech fell flat the minute your gaze clocked onto those glaringly familiar set of eyes that pulled you in as if it were the ocean's depths itself. Its highlights were some sort of pearly pink, a soft contrast to the deep dark unknown.

And no pupils.

Maybe a trick of the light again, maybe you're hallucinating. Though you guessed even some of the best painters were kinda crazy back then.

"I apologise for disturbing you but, ah.. I don't suppose you can stop staring now?" And the mystery woman giggles lightly, her hand—a normal human hand, although her nails were manicured sharp and painted a glittering blue—moving to hover over her mouth as if to cover it politely, "I don't think I have anything of interest on my person to give you for.. emotional compensation?"

You blink, and you are drawn back to reality, "Physical, actually. You ruined my work."

"Even worse."

"You don't seem all that apologetic."

"But I am... Can't you tell?"

"It's dark, and our only light source right now are some busted tungsen street lamps." You sighed, putting your sketchbook and pencil down beside you, "Whatever, did you need something? No one's supposed to be out at the beach this late."

"Why not?"

"..Are you a tourist? Actually, no, if you were a tourist, you'd have to be real ignorant to not know... Though I've never actually seen you before."

You weren't sure if you lied just now or not. In fact, you're pretty sure you told the truth, but...

You see her stare at you, and you're unsure of what to do with the quiet.. until she shrugs, "I've been curious of what you were doing all alone at night. No one else seems to come outside."

"Don't you think that's any sort of indication to maybe mind your own business?"

"Forgive my curiosity."

You almost do, and you know not of why.

(Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, putting your safety to sleep.)

Instead, you relent, "People have gone missing after giving this place a visit all alone in the dead of night. Nobody really wants to die, so mornings and afternoons are when the people crowd here."

And you tear your gaze away from the stranger to look at the ever-expanding sea, "Come midnight, you won't see a single soul standing on the sand."

"But you're here," she says. "Why?"

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."

"I don't think I will."

"I doubt that—I don't even know your name."

"Kokomi."

You look back at her, brows raised slightly, "What?"

"My name is Kokomi. Yours?"

...

You tell her your name and state your purpose for coming here every single night. And from then on, the two of you talk until the sun comes up, sketchbook forgotten.

She asks you if you're going to come back now that your drawing's been ruined. You tell her that you don't know, considering your current lack of purpose, but then she says that she'll sit with you as you recreate your ruined art as if that's going to make up for the ruined days—weeks, even—of meticulously-sketched pencil art.

..For some reason, you were compelled to agree.

(Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the eyes.)

(Maybe it was the feeling of unsettling familiarity that drew you in, or that strange feeling of fight-or-flight.)

And so you continue to go down to the beach at night despite everyone's constant warnings, putting pencil to a new page in your sketchbook after having taken out and thrown away your previous attempt. Though even then, while there are still all sorts of warnings, people have noticed that there have been less and less people going missing from the shore. Can't help but think 'no wonder', considering how you haven't been killed or kidnapped after continuously coming here for so long.

Either way, nothing much has changed in your schedule.. save for a brand new companion appearing at night, her pink hair flowing behind you before going to sit beside you and observe.

Sometimes the two of you sit in comfortable silence, other times one of you talks of whatever comes to mind and it turns into some sort of winding discussion that ends with your sketchbook completely forgotten until you need to leave.

"..If you have something to say, you may as well spit it out."

"Hm?"

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my skull. You may as well."

"Ah, I hadn't realised that I was staring so hard!" You feel her body draw back from originally leaning onto you and you suppress the urge to pull her back next to you as she continues, "I'm just wondering... Was no one particularly interested in coming outside with you?"

You put your pencil down on the page and look at her with a raised brow, "Are you calling me lonely?"

"No? ..Well, perhaps a little, I admit. I don't ever see you outside with anyone else."

"Oh, so you've been watching me. A bit creepy, no?"

She shook her head, "The observation merely struck me just now. I haven't seen you with anyone else at night, apart from me."

Instead of giving the curious girl an answer, you look down on the pencilled page. There wasn't much that you could really say beyond the fact that everyone else was asleep at this time.. and...

"I like being alone at the end of the day."

"Mmm. Me too."

"..That so."

No one points out the fact that neither of you are alone right now.

Nothing else is said, and you continue on sketching.

Oftentimes, that's what usually happens.

And it's.. nice, being able to just sit there with soothing company—she isn't overwhelming, nor is she insufferably awkward or borderline unbearable. She was like a smooth current, her voice akin to the sound of gentle water and her touch against your skin as she leaned into you cool and refreshing.

Not like you'd admit it.

(You wouldn't because saying that to a stranger's face is, quite frankly, really lame.. though you couldn't help but touch upon the water's detailing a lot more delicately in your sketches.)

(Or think about drawing her as your muse under the moonlight instead.)

One certain topic she was particularly interested in was the iridescent visage you witnessed all those nights ago—anyone would be, of course, in an 'entertaining-the-schizo' sort of way, not.. not her way. Not with genuine curiosity laced with something much more hidden, inquisitive.

"What would you do if that thing came back?"

"Like, to do what?"

"Who knows." Kokomi wore a soft, jesting smile, "Eat you, perhaps?"

"Would you be there with me?"

"Let's start with a 'no'."

"Probably sit there."

"Really?"

As you muse on the question, you take the cap off your water bottle, "May as well die finishing this rather than live with it gnawing on my mind."

"You have no self-preservation, do you?"

"Would it be edgy if I said it was overrated?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged, letting her hair shift and cascade from her shoulders and her arms down to her back. "What would you do if I was there, then?"

You took a sip, "..Say thank you, maybe."

"Oh? Why?"

"For keeping me company? I guess? Dunno, I just feel like I should thank you if I died on this beach with you."

You turn to look at her, and before you could say anything more, you notice the look on her face; it's indecipherable, blank, as if she were sizing you up and profiling you within her mind palace.. but what for?

Her eyes are unsettling—a touch of hunger glimmers in the ocean depths—as they stare at you (and has she ever even blinked once?) but then the moment you blink, her light expression is back as if it was never taken off.

"Let's hope that neither of us die, haha."

"Right..."

You also can't help but notice the way that you are reminded of said visage whenever you look at her, especially when she's by the water.

"Join me?"

"Why should I?"

"Perhaps you need a change of pace," she says as she takes off her lavender jacket and leaves her slippers off the sand. "I get the feeling, but you've been concentrating on your work for a while now."

"I don't swim."

"Don't? Or can't? I can teach you."

"Why?"

"Perhaps being in the water may help you gain a bit more perspective with your art."

"But I only need one perspective. Plus the water would be cold."

Kokomi stares at you with a slightly tilted head, and you can't help but notice her unusual eyes softly glowing but you do nothing but dismiss it, and then ends up shrugging, "Alright. I won't force you, of course. Just..."

She turns her head, "You never know, maybe getting into the water will turn out to be your final step."

..And as she walks off into the ocean, you don't even notice yourself taking off your shoes and chasing her after a beat until--

"Wait!"

She turns around, an eyebrow raised and a gentle half smile on her lips, "Yes?"

You stop just short of her, "Fine, I'll.. I'll go. With you. But you're not letting me go. I know how to swim but it's dark. So."

"Of course not," she reassures you, "I sought you out, after all."

"Huh?"

You don't get a chance to react, not when she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the water.

You don't get a chance to react, not when the both of you submerge yourselves and you are thrown back to that very night at the sight of clustered scales on pale skin.

..Or maybe you can't react at all, not when water starts clogging up your lungs and your consciousness sung to sleep.

...

You woke up coughing your lungs out, sore and very much still full of saltwater.

You woke up alone on the shore, probably for the first time since Kokomi had decided to come up and startle you enough to ruin your focus.

And you got up and ran.

You don't tell anyone, because the only person who would have ever believed you turned out to be someone you wish you hallucinated.

(Never felt so lonely like this in so long, like you don't have a purpose--)

You don't visit the beach for a while. And when you do, you wish you hadn't.

Not when you see a crumpled piece of paper—your scrapped mistake—on the spot the both of you had always occupied at night.

Not when you see the scribbled-out 'thank you' on the back of the page.

Not when you spot that same visage at night all over again, yet with the tainted memory of your near-death and of the brief company that you kept.

And certainly not when she looked at you with those shimmering blue eyes, her claws clear of any sort of metallic red, before she looked away and disappeared into the ocean depths.

(Though you end up finishing what could have been your magnum opus forged from looking at death in the eye all those many nights, you voluntarily put a line across the page and close your sketchbook.)

(You don't end up opening it anymore, not when you feel disjointed.)

(Incomplete.)

[idontplaytrack]

City of dreams

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader(+ big sis Regina)

Warnings: some coarse language, fluff, mentions of sex

Read other parts here!

“Hehe, congrats.” Regina grinned.

You gasped dramatically, “You knew, didn’t you?!”

“Knew? I helped her plan it. The whole gang did.”

Janis propped her phone up on the coffee table, getting up to get a snack from the pantry. “Pita chips? Or pretzels?”

“Pita chips.” You answered, eyes staying focused on the phone screen. “How is it that I had zero clue?”

“Which was good, no? You were really surprised.” Regina added on.

“I was sobbing like a baby by the time she kneeled down in front of me. I’m just lucky no one else was there to take a photo of my ridiculous face at the moment.”

“Oh, there are still photos. Even a video, actually.” Janis informed you, “There is no way I didn’t want to immortalise that moment.”

You sigh, “Very well then.” You turned to look at Janis, squinting. Through the FaceTime call, Cady and Regina were laughing. “It was something worth capturing, honey.” Janis soothed, sitting down next to you again as she opened up the bag of cinnamon pita chips. Gretchen said you guys could help yourselves to anything, by the way

“How’ve you been?” You asked.

“Same. The same, nothing’s changed.” Regina replied, “Quit being so worried, alright? Everything is going perfectly fine.”

“Can’t help it.” You admitted.

“The doctor said so.” Cady quipped.

“It’s natural for me to worry. I just— but yeah, I hear you though.

“Enjoy the alone time.” Regina smirked.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes jokingly, “Don’t have to worry about that part.”

Regina’s eyes went wide for a moment, “Finally answering a little differently, are we?”

“Trust me, she’s not as shy as you think she is.” Janis remarked. You smacked her shoulder, “Hey!”

Janis giggled, “You love me.”

“Yes, I do.” You sulked.

“You’re so cute when you do that.” Janis snuck a kiss to your cheek.

“You guys are too cute.” Regina sighs.

“Oh?” Janis grins. “That’s good to know.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m used to this PDA, ‘Imi’ike.”

Janis scoffs, “Oh, look who’s talking.”

“Shut up.” Regina said with a laugh.

“You shut up.” Janis retorted, pulling you onto her lap. You huffed, “What—”

“You’re mineeee.” Janis jokingly threatened, chomping your shoulder.

You couldn’t help it but laugh, “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Janis rests her chin on your shoulder, bringing a pita chip to your lip. You took a bite and held the piece between your teeth. “So…how’s everything?”

“Uh, well. Everything’s fine with the baby but I’m not feeling too hot. Having to pee so much, my feet hurt, my back aches. Fun.”

“Regina.” Cady chided.

“Well, she asked me.” Regina shot the redhead a look.

“I did.” You said to Cady, “It’s fine. And I’m sorry you’re so uncomfortable but.”

“Yeah, we’re getting closer.” She smiled at the thought. “How’s the trip going?”

“It’s noon and we’re still at home so…” Janis says, her voice trailing off.

“Okay, message received.” Regina snorted, “Glad you’re having some good sex.”

“Oh God.” Cady facepalmed.

“Wow, haven’t I heard that before.” The blonde lets out a breathy laugh. “This is a sex-positive house, Cady.”

“Mm, sure. Okay, so any fun plans today? Sex aside?” Cady interjected.

“We’re seeing a Broadway show tonight.” You beamed.

“That we are. The Lion King, maybe The Notebook tomorrow.” Janis chimed in.

“I want a bagel.” You glanced at Janis.

“Then we’ll go get you a bagel.” Janis booped your nose.

You giggled, “Janis.”

“Okay, I won’t keep you guys any longer. Go have fun.” Regina chortled, “Enjoy your bagel. I want pictures.”

“Okay, Reg.” You agreed, “Will send to the group.”

————

It was always nice for you and Janis to get to experience a little bit of life together, just the two of you. The Wiener family’s Chelsea townhouse was the dream residence for the both of you, if you guys were being completely honest. But of course, you and Janis were in a completely different tax bracket. You were no longer relying on your parents for money, and you haven’t been since junior year of high school. Though you’ve always just had Regina’s help with it even prior to that, so you were pretty fortunate. Being in this house just felt right, but it could never be a permanent thing. This wasn’t your house.

“What ya thinking about?” Janis asks, joining you at the bay window.

“Nothing much.” You sighed, chin resting on your palm as you sat cross legged and looking at the fall leaves outside. “Or at least trying not to think of anything much.”

“You can talk about it if you’re ready to.” She judged gently, “I’m all ears.”

“Well…Regina is right. What they’re going through now? That’s what our future’s gonna be like.” You began, “And I’m not sure if I’m ready for the heartbreak that is a failed IVF attempt, or worse— a miscarriage. That scares me half to death. Like— what if we do everything right but we still lose the baby?”

Janis just quietly listens, a hand on your back, letting her presence be known to you.

“That’s gonna fuck me up. So bad, and how will our bodies change? Our minds? Our lives? But…despite those questions it will also kill me to not have tried, to not be able to have a child of our own that…that’s an extension of our love. And I — I don’t know what to do, Jan. I’m scared, I don’t have a clear answer. I don’t want to make the wrong choice. But as terrible as it sounds, what if I regret my choice? What if I’m not a good mom?”

“We won’t know for sure what the aftermath of our decisions will be like. But what I do know for sure, is that…with you. No matter where life takes us, whether or not we have kids…it’ll still be the best life we can live. We did our best, and sometimes, some things maybe just aren’t for us in this lifetime.” Janis says after a few seconds, rubbing your back when you sniffled. “But that shouldn’t stop us from doing the best we can to fight for what we want. It’s hard, yes. But sometimes the hardest decisions are the biggest lessons. They teach us to be strong…or to be stronger because there’s still a lot in store for us.”

You just stayed silent, taking in a deep breath.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be an incredible mother.”

“No.” You disagreed, chuckling tearfully, “I’m still afraid I’d end up like my mother.”

“If you’re afraid, you’re aware. You won’t be like her. You, y/n…you’re your own person. You might not trust yourself in some moments, and that’s okay. We’re human. But, trust me. I see you everyday the way I see you. And I know you. So…believe me when I tell you that.”

You looked at her, still teary eyed but the crying had just begun. Pulling her into a hug, she kisses your cheek on the way. “We got this, okay? Promise. We’ll go through it all, together. Just like we are now, and just like we have been.”

You nodded firmly, drying your tears. But Janis pulls you right back in for a longer hug.

After you and Janis have arrived back in Chicago, you two were picked up by Cady. “Hi, sweetheart.” Cady hugged you first.

“Hey.” You gave her a smile.

“Hi, Janis.” Cady hugged her too.

“What’s up?” The brunette chuckles, “Good to be back.”

“I did not wanna leave.” You laughed at the thought as the three of you headed to the parking structure for the car.

“That’s true.” Janis confirmed.

“Well, it is very nice over there so, I get it.” Cady hummed, “Alrighty, get in the car and let’s go home.”

Regina was beyond thrilled to see you again after your two-week absence. “I’ve missed you too, Reg.” You were kind of stood frozen thanks to her sudden affection. Yeah, you still were not top used to this side of her yet.

“Hey, G.” Janis bit back a laugh, “How are ya?”

“Meh, you guys know how it’s been so I’m not gonna repeat it.” Regina answered.

“You have an appointment tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, I do. You actually remembered?”

“Of course.” You nodded swiftly.

“Anyway, how are you two doing with wedding planning? Started yet?” Regina asked.

“Not yet.” You sighed.

“Okay, did something happen…?” Regina squinted at you.

“No.” You quickly lied. You weren’t about to tell your pregnant sister about the breakdown you had over your own future and the possibility of wanting to be pregnant. Or not. You still didn’t know for sure. “I’m gonna take a shower. You wanna come with me, Jan?”

“Uh, sure!” The girl narrowed her eyes at you, slightly worried by your avoidance of that question from Regina. She knew your sister would definitely press you for answers. But she was more concerned about you.

While you were taking out a set of clothes from the wardrobe, you hear Janis walking up behind you. You know what was coming, and you did not want to talk about it again. You knew this was on you to work through. And you knew you had a great support system, but as always…some days will be harder than others. Well, the past couple of days have been ‘some days’. You’ve given your future a lot of thought, but the matter of starting a family was still a big question mark.

“Hey, deep breaths, honey.” She had a hand on your shoulder, “Everything’s okay. Listen to me— everything is okay. Just breathe.”

“I’m trying.” You sighed, “I’m trying. Why is it bothering me so much? Oh my God.”

She hugs you, “We’ll make it through just fine. Right now, just focus on your shower, put on your favourite playlist and get freshened up. Hm?”

You nodded firmly, determined to get out of this little ‘mood’. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She pecks your cheek, “And after you’re done, we’re gonna make some dinner together, yeah? Let’s do something.”

“Sounds good.” You agreed, giving her a kiss in return before you disappeared into the bathroom.

Janis exits the bedroom once she hears the tap being turned on, and the beat of your favourite song. “Is she okay?”

“She will be, don’t worry about that. She’s got it.”

“Make sure she goes to her therapy appointments.” Regina says with a nod.

“Always.” Janis answered seriously, “Alright— any requests for dinner?”

“Um, anything honestly is great when you cook.”

“Way to flatter me.” Janis bursts out laughing, “You wanna suggest a cuisine at least?”

“Please, you can make a salad taste good.” Regina scoffed, “Cook whatever you want. But if you insist, use only what we have in the fridge and pantry right now.”

“That works too,” Janis chuckles, walking towards the kitchen, “Let’s see what we end up with, eh?”

“Looking forward to it.” Regina smirked.

“Do you trust your sister in the kitchen?”

“What?” Regina looks at the brunette, bewildered, “Course I do.”

“Kidding.” Janis quickly chimed in. “Just saying…”

“She can cook together with you, alright? She’s perfectly capable of that.” Regina laughs, pulling a face at the Hawaiian. By the time Janis finished setting up everything, you were fresh out of the shower. “Hi, love.” Janis’ face lit up.

“Hey.” Your smile mirrored hers. “What are you cooking tonight?”

“G, how are you with salmon?” Asked Janis.

“I’m fine, I can eat it now.” Regina confirmed.

“Great!” Janis says, “and y/n, I know. No fish for you.”

You smiled, “Are we doing rice or something else?”

“Yeah, rice.” Janis nodded, “2 cups. That small one in the bag.”

“Okay.” You went ahead with that task while she got started on hers.

“Tofu or chicken, baby?” She asks.

You decided on the former, “Tofu.”

While you and Janis worked in the kitchen, your eyes wandered over to Cady and Regina on the couch. You watched them watching a movie together, cuddled up comfortably as Cady’s hand rested on Regina’s bump. Your heart melted, that was sweet. Janis soon saw what you were looking at, too. “I know.” Janis whispered, “Cute.”

Focusing on making dinner took your mind off of the worrying. Janis always knew what to do when you didn’t. “Thanks for…um making sure I don’t keep staying in that state of mind.”

“Always gonna be here for you.” She answered simply while seasoning the salmon fillets. Turning the stove on, she waited until the pan was warm enough before dropping some butter onto it. Eventually, the teriyaki sauce-seasoned meat was sizzling in the pan and if you were being completely honest? It smelled amazing, but you just did not dare to eat fish ever again after an incident.

Janis used an entirely different pan for your tofu, just to give you a peace of mind. She’s never made a big deal out of it, it came naturally to her to do this. You didn’t even think she was aware of why you refused to eat any sort of fish, but apparently she was. After dinner, Regina said good night to you all and headed to bed. Cady helped wash and dry the dishes, while you and Janis cleaned up the kitchen. It wasn’t long before you two were in your bedroom, laptop open with a notebook and some pens in your laps.

“Let’s start with dates…gather a few then slowly narrow them down?” Janis began.

“How about a summer wedding?”

“Lovely.”

“Actually, I have an idea for the date.”

“Yeah, shoot.” Janis nodded, looking at you attentively.

“June 26th? Honestly I thought of Stitch, you know experiment 626. But anyway.” You laughed, “‘Ohana means family. Stitch reminds me of that quote, and if we’re gonna go with a summer wedding. How’s Hawai’i?’

“That is adorable.”

“Sure.” You laughed it off, “But is it good? Like, actually, would a wedding there work out cost wise?”

“I don’t think it would cost much, or at all to do a wedding on the beach.” Janis assured, “I think this is it. This is perfect. Our family will be there. My mom, Keani…I didn’t think it’d be this easy, I guess this is what we were meant to choose. It just fell into our laps, you know? It wasn’t a hard decision.”

You agreed with a nod, noting that down on an open document on your laptop. “Also, for food and beverages, my aunts and uncles can help.”

“Please don’t tell me that they’re doing that for free. We need to pay them.”

“They’re gonna insist, but we’re gonna insist harder. Maybe work it out to a discount rate instead of completely FOC.” Janis says, “I know.”

“About the whole pr—”

“Baby, we already talked about this. One thing at a time. We still have a lot to look forward to first before we get ahead of ourselves. We can think about it, we can discuss it but we shouldn’t let it take over our minds.”

With your lips pursed, you gave her a nod, “Okay.”

“Whatever we decide, nothing will change between us. Okay? Nothing bad. It’s always going to be us versus the obstacles, not each other.”

You pondered over her words, heart rate slowing down and you let go of the corner of your shirt that you were grabbing onto. “Let’s lay down, go to bed for the night.” Janis pulls you closer. “Okay? It’s time for bed.”

“Yeah, okay.” You laid down.

And, that was the end of the conversation. For now. It will come up again, just much later, and when the time is right— when you were both ready. “Good night, ipo.”

You went to sleep with a smile on your face, calm too, “Good night.”

Feeling a kiss to the side of your head, you began to drift off to sleep while you both held each other.

Were you dreaming too big about wanting to start a family? Maybe, considering the costs and efforts you two had to put into it compared to say, a more traditional means. But you knew for sure that you’ll be fine no matter how things pan out. You had Janis, and you had the rest of your little family right next to you to get through this life together. It wasn’t impossible, you just had to work hard. But most importantly, you would be alright. And you were so proud of yourself for how far you’ve come. You never thought this would happen for you…

You were getting married, to the love of your life. And you couldn’t be any happier.

🏷️Tag list:

@ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

💭A/N:

Cadina are welcoming the baby in the next chapter, then it’s time for the wedding in Hawai’i😙

[marigold-hills]

Dunes and Waters

PART 1 • NEXT PART

PART 2:

Here is the thing about living alone: the routines. Little patterns of behaviour, daily rituals. Like turning on the kettle for tea before going to brush your teeth. A cigarette smoked out the kitchen window while waiting for it to cool down. Cryptic crosswords in the morning paper.

Remus has been living by himself for six years, ever since his mum died and his dad decided he couldn’t live with the reminder, going off to travel the Scottish Highlands and never returning. And he likes it, Remus does; never mind if he’s in his tiny studio in London, his old university accommodation, or in this lovely hotel in Egypt. Being alone suits him.

This morning, his crossword is half (and incorrectly) completed. The water from the kettle emptied and not replaced. His cigarettes – of which he still had three, he’s certain – all gone.

Worst of all? Sirius Black, hair up in a knot held up with his wand, sprawled out onto Remus’ favourite windowsill smoking what must be his last cigarette.

He looks like a cover of an album. Framed by the morning sun. Velvet Underground would pay a fortune for a picture of him right now, dressed in a loose billowy shirt he’s procured from Merlin knows where, and nothing else but boxers. Andy Warhol would paint him like he painted Marilyn – obsessively, repeatedly. Immortalise how he flicks the cigarette, a bit of ash falling onto the windowsill. Runs a restless thumb down the line of his bottom lip. Hums to himself softly and Remus thinks I was right because even subdued like this, it truly is a voice to behold.  

“I didn’t know how you take your tea,” Black says in leu of greeting.

“With hot water, to start with.” The meaning (refill the damned kettle!) seems lost on him, as he goes back to watching the world outside the window.

Must be a strange thing, to be here. Yesterday, and for the last two months, he woke up in a tiny cell made even smaller by the range of the chain holding him down. The window too high up and too small to give sunlight or a view, and even if he’d managed to get up there, he’d only have seen the sunken walls surrounding the jail.

Remus refills the kettle (again) and turns it on (again).

“Might making me one too?”

And Remus is a polite person. His mother taught him to be. So he turns off the kettle. Adds enough water for another tea, and hopes that this time is the last time.

“I like it real sweet,” Sirius drawls, stretching his vowels like a cat after a sun nap. “Lots of sugar.”

“You can add your own.”

“So inhospitable. So cruel. I’m sick, you know?”

“Sick enough to smoke all my cigarettes. Did you take your potions at least?”

A sharp tiny smile, a break in the veneer. “Knew you wouldn’t mind, Professor. You look like a right standup guy. The kind that lends others his smokes and his tea.”

“Potions?” Remus doesn’t let the man derail him. It must be an insult, with the way Black says it, but the doctor asked him to keep an eye, and he promised.

Never mind that he really doesn’t want his work delayed if Black gets worse on account of his own stupidity. It’s too important. Too time-sensitive.

“Yes, yes. I’ve taken them. Scouts honour, Professor. Or should I call you Doctor, instead, hmm? I’m sure you have one of those as well.”

“A doctorate? No. Not yet.”

“Pity. Professor it is then.”

“Just Remus. Please.”

NEXT PART

NOTES:

So I’m not going with the prompts this month because they just REALLY didn’t fit this story, but should still have 500 word bits every day :)

im currently applying for jobs so can’t write as fast as I normally do (they all have tests! Or hackathons! So so long), but will keep updating hopefully as usual

i love love love cryptic crosswords. They’re confusing as hell and fry my brain in such a delightful way :):):)

how are we all surviving AO3 being down?

@tealeavesandtrash

@moon-girl88

@hoje--aqui

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged!)

[jackactuallywrites]

Drunk and Disorderly Chapter Four

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

Warnings: mild cringe. MC is a cutie patootie and anxiety-monologues

Summary: You have to go and file the paperwork from last weeks incident, and wouldn’t you know it, you’re filing it with Ghost

Notes: Blame/Thank @xxven she doesn’t let me sleep 🦫💕

Word Count: 1,285

ao3 link

If there was anything you hated more than paperwork, it was paperwork when it had to be delivered and then also discussed all in one meeting. Considering the army was stereotyped as shoot-first idiots with rifles, there was an annoying amount of paperwork involved. Every bullet shot had to be made a note of, every single plaster and bandage; the bureaucracy was endless. That was bad enough, yet this set of paperwork had a delightfully painful twist in that it was a paper record of you breaking your nose in a training exercise. You would have liked to have buried that memory rather than immortalise it in official military documents, but it had been insisted upon, a paper trail for any future incidents.

You’d done your best to look absolutely pristine, not a crease out of place on your uniform, your boots polished until they shone, your collar starched until it could support a grown woman’s weight. At the very least, your meeting was with Ghost, as he had been the superior officer during the incident. Elle had suggested a great many things for you to do under and over his desk until you threatened to report her for inappropriate fraternisation, and you tried to shove the filth she’d implanted in your mind's eye aside as you approached Ghost’s office.

Standing outside, leaning against the wall, was his shadow and your momentarily romantic nemesis, Soap. He gave you an upward nod as a form of greeting as you neared, his eyes flicking down to the stack of paperwork in your hand. “That your incident report?” You flicked through the pages with your thumb, rocking back and forth on your heels, “Six pages for a broken nose. Bit excessive if you ask me. Ghost in his office?” Soap nodded, “Aye, but he’s in a foul mood.” “Not one for paperwork?” He looked you over suspiciously, though you couldn’t begin to imagine his reasons, “Something like that.” The door to Ghost’s office opened, and a chastised-looking soldier scurried out, avoiding both your gazes. Soap called out to Ghost, “Got another one, LT.” You could hear the beastly snarl in Ghost’s voice as he responded, “For fucks sake. Send ‘em in.”

You popped your head around the door to find Ghost sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temples through his mask. The mountain of paperwork beside him made yours look very much like a molehill, and you paused in the doorway awkwardly, “Hello.” You drew out the o’s for a reason you couldn’t quite explain, wanting to ease some of the tension before you added your paperwork to the pile. Ghost’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, his eyes narrowing as he took you in, “Oh. It’s you.” You gave him a nervous smile, shifting your weight from foot to foot, “The one and only.” He sighed, gesturing for you to close the door behind you as he organised the paperwork in front of him and added it to the mountain.

Flashes of Elle’s words flickered in your mind as you pushed the door to a close, and you cursed her internally before you walked over to Ghost’s desk, hoping that he wouldn’t suddenly become a mind reader. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have that power, casually gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him, and you did, sinking down into the thinly cushioned chair. You promptly set the paperwork down on the desk, pushing it over to him, “I filled it out this morning.” Ghost reached over to take it from you, leafing through it and reading in silence you didn’t dare break.

When he’d finished reading, a little of the tension seemed to go out of Ghost’s shoulders, and he relaxed in his chair, interlocking his gloved fingers as he looked at you. “And that’s entirely accurate?” You nodded and then hesitated, “Yeah- I mean, I didn’t see whatever happened after I hit the floor, so I couldn’t write about that, so I guess it’s not entirely accurate because I couldn’t be omniscient-“ “Relax.” The idea of messing up the paperwork and having to redo it all was aggressively present in your mind, but you forced yourself to sit back in your chair, trying hard not to continue your monologuing. Ghost waved vaguely with his hand, “The paperwork doesn’t matter. What matters is you. Your health.” He gestured at your nose, “Any difficulty breathing? Any nosebleeds?” You thought on it, “I mean, other than the initial one, no.” He nodded and then leant forward, reaching out before he paused, “May I?” “Sure.”

Yet again, Ghost’s gloved fingers were on your face, his eyes scanning your nose for any sign of further damage as he held your jaw, his thumb resting on your cheek. “Any pain?” He questioned, and you gave a slight shake of your head, “Nope. It does click sometimes, though.” You could see his brows furrow underneath the edge of his mask, and you smiled, “Seriously, if I push it at all, blowing my nose or anything, it clicks. Annoying as shit. Medic says it’s normal, but it bugs me.” Ghost’s mask shifted as he let out a soft snort, perhaps smiling underneath the thick fabric. You grinned at him, and he withdrew his hand, looking back down at the paperwork, “You included that in here?” “Of course, sir. Spared no detail.” “I can tell.” “You’re not telling me you don’t like paperwork now after I put all that effort in?”

Yet again, Ghost leaned back in his chair, and this time, you could see the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, signalling he was certainly smiling underneath that balaclava. “I’ll treasure it.” “You better. Took me ages.” He grabbed one of the pens on his desk, flipping through to where it required his signature at the end, scrawling it on the dotted line. When it was done, he tossed the pen aside, sitting back in his chair, “Fuckin’ paperwork.” ��You’re welcome for my contribution to Paperwork Mountain. Rich toffs will be trying to climb it any second now.” He shook his head, making a shooing motion with one hand, “Go on, get out of here.” Another glance at the mountain of paperwork shot a pang of sympathy through your heart as you paused in leaving, “You fancy coming out to the club this weekend? After all the paperwork, that is.”

Usually, a casual invite like that was responded to immediately, yet Ghost seemed to be taking his time with it, an imperceptible emotion clouding his eyes as he looked at you. “This weekend?” His words echoed your own as though he was puzzled by the question. “Well, yeah. The girls and I make a habit of going out every Friday, but Elle’s got plans with her new girlfriend and Kate’s gone up north to see her lot, so if you’re not busy or going out with anyone else-“ “I’ll be there.” He seemed to have a knack for cutting you off before you could truly fall into a monologue, and you bit back your words, giving him a nod, “Alright then! I’ll look forward to seeing you then.” He nodded again, “Look forward to it. Close the door behind you.”

With that, you were dismissed, and you left your paperwork with him, pulling the door shut behind you as instructed. Soap was still loitering in the hallway, and he looked at you curiously. “LT’s taken a shine to you.” You chose not to question the meaning of his words, giving him an awkward smile and a deferential ‘sir’ as you made a swift exit, needing nothing more than to talk to Elle and Kate as soon as possible.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Could I request Welt, Dan Heng, Sunday, Gepard, and Argenti finding their s/o's poetry collection of them?

Argenti:

Would sit himself down somewhere nearby and read every last poem, each one leaving him with a full heart, butterflies in his stomach and another addition to the list of reasons why he adored your creative soul.

He’s extremely honoured that you decided to chose him as your muse for your poems, for he could feel the love and respect you have for him through your writing, before holding the collections of poetry made in his name against his chest as he beamed with happiness.

He’d even openly praise you for your works if he were to see you later on in the day, which would make you understandably upset and embarrassed that he went through your things, but with the way that he passionately talked about your writing and the look upon his face that clearly shown his appreciation and admiration for poetry.

At the end you’re the one who ends up being flustered whilst Argenti was still sending appraisal after appraisal your way, all the while re-reading your works and proudly reciting his favourite passages without shame.

Sunday:

He thought it was sweet that you write poetry about him.

He didn’t feel as though he was invading your privacy at all, seeing as how he’d like to claim that whatever of yours was now also his by osmosis…totally not because he’s fishing for stuff to hold over you and maintain control should you act out…

Anyway- he’s taking his sweet time reading each and every poem you’ve written with him in mind and smiling at the hold he’s taken within your heart, finding it fascinating what adoration could make one do just to express their whole array of emotions.

It was almost as though they were on some timer that others couldn’t see just to express all their innermost feelings towards the special person in their life. Then again love tended to make people feel as though they were invincible, so the unthinkable and accomplish things that they never thought that they were capable of achieving in the first place.

So it didn’t matter whether or not you were able to wax poetry before him, but it was obvious to Sunday that the moment he had taken hold of your life and your every thought, poetry has became your primary outlet for feelings that you weren’t nearly brave enough to say aloud to him. Rest assured however for that day will come for you to open up about those unspoken feelings of yours…sooner or later.

Gepard:

He feels as though he was invading your privacy by reading your poetry collection and wanted to leave before he’d inevitably get caught, but just as he was about to take his leave, he stopped when the title of the first poem caught his eye;

Everlasting winter

He found himself reading through the first few opening sentences and immeditly made connections between himself and the person within your poem. To say it didn’t take long for Gepard to realises that the similarities between him and the person in your poem were purely intentional, and that he was the one the poem was actual about.

His face was blossoming red upon the realisation and averted his eyes elsewhere as he takes in the fact that you found him a perfect enough muse for your poetry. Him, the man who couldn’t hold a tune to save his life, grows flowers that unfortunately don’t last long, and wasn’t possessed with the basic skills of drawing.

And yet you found something about him that was worth writing poem after poem about. He didn’t know why that was but he was appreciative that you found something in him that urged you into written it down on paper, where your affection and admiration for him would be forever immortalised…He also may or may not have taken a poem to read to himself later on at night.

Dan heng:

He had noticed that you left a piece of paper laying about one day and was about to call out to you and give it back, while scolding you for leaving your messes everywhere for him to pick up after, only to see that it was in fact a poem about him.

Red faced, Dan Heng still planned on taking the poem back to you and journeyed to your room where he found that the door was left ajar, but could immeditly tell that your room was empty. Sighing, Dan Heng opened the door and quickly made his way towards your desk, where’d he found more poems in regards to him.

Much like Gepard, Dan Heng felt as though he was reading something he shouldn’t but he found himself unable to look away as he was secretly tempted to know how you viewed him. What he found was nothing short of you portraying him in a way that he’s never quite thought of himself before. If he wasn’t already so easily made flustered by your words alone, your writing was enough to put the poor man into a catatonic state.

Dan Heng wasn’t use to being smothered in a love like yours. Where you felt as though speaking your love for him wasn’t nearly enough, so you had to expand and start writing it instead in the form of poetry. He doesn’t feel as though he’s deserving of it but isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and is more then willing to try to accept the fact that you care deeply for him; especially when he can not find it within him to find anything about him remotely worth being with.

Welt:

He’s made copious amounts of drawings of you that he’s kept hidden in his room. So upon coming across your poetry collection about him, it only made him feel more comfortable knowing that he wasn’t the only one to express his innermost feelings through an art form.

Besides it wasn’t like he was actively searching your room for your poetry collection, he really wasn’t as he just came across them out of pure coincidence. He was currently about four poetries deep and was finding it extremely endearing how you viewed him in most of your writing: which was mainly as an well educated, wise man with a young man’s heart and restlessness sense for adventure, who had a talent for drawing.

Welt would chuckle under his breath at all the moments you’ve shared together, before you’d then went on to write about how beautiful he was in every possible way. From his sweet, insightful eyes that seemingly held all the knowledge you could ever ask for, to his calming, velvety voice that could lull you into a deep sleep within seconds.

You posed him as this figure of comfort, a figure of warmth and Welt soon finding himself not so subtly sneaking some of your poetry into his pocket to read for later. Your poetry only gives Welt the confidence he been looking for, as he would then starts to leave his drawings of you in places where you’d be able to see them; all in hopes that you would know that you had just as much of a huge place in his heart as he did in yours.

[hellverse]

wrote a little thing (emphasis on little) about dean trying to provoke cas and cas being, well, a little slow about it. check it out on ao3 or below the cut if you wanna, xo

Dean was bored. So. Very. Bored. He was convinced that if there was anything left to learn, they would have learnt it by now. Sam had already clocked himself out about an hour or so ago, which in his mind, served as a pretty good sign that they could be done for the night. They could just continue this tomorrow. Or later. Or simply at any other time but now. Because right now, Dean just wanted to drag Cas to their bedroom, and certainly not for sleeping purposes. It wasn't like he was touch starved, the two of them spent plenty of time passing up on some good night sleeps, trading them for early morning coffees and midday naps. But sometimes, Cas would get into one of those stubborn, help-the-world moods, where nothing else seemed to register. One could call it dedication, Dean, however, liked to think of it as the evil reverse viagra he had to defeat. 

And of course, as Dean’s luck would have it, they had been stuck in a bit of a loop recently. Although he was pretty sure Sam could handle it on his own, if he wanted, or passed it on to someone else, he and Cas were insistent on helping. At the end of the day, Dean knew he would’ve made the same decision, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. He felt somewhat normal for the first time in, well, a while, and wanted to stay in their little bubble just a little longer. Sue him. But...duty calls. 

Dean was sitting with his legs stretched, crossed at the ankles, staring at the ceiling, when he turned his head to take a peek at Cas. The angel was burning holes into some book, concentrating at such a level he almost looked like a statue - an immortalised bookworm. Cute. Hot, even. There was something about the way his face looked, how serious he was, how his brows were just a little furrowed, and how the line between them was starting to show itself. It certainly reminded me of Dean of something. 

“Cas," no answer, "Cas!” 

The angel lifted his head in Dean’s direction, keeping his eyes on the book for five seconds longer before eventually looking at him. Cas smiled, something small and sweet dancing at the corners of his mouth. It was making Dean even more antsy, just thinking about how different his smile could be if he were to just- 

“Did you want something?” Cas interrupted before he could even finish his thought. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I did. Um, are you gonna be, uh, done soon?” 

"You can go to bed if you're tired, Dean, I don't mind staying here on my own," he said almost matter-of-factly. 

If only that were the issue , Dean thought to himself. Admittedly, he could just tell Cas what he wants, it's not like the angel couldn't return to this later, after all, he's not the one who needs sleep. The issue, however, would be that Dean wouldn’t want him to leave. He never does. And although they haven’t ever discussed it, he has a feeling that Cas doesn’t like it either. Call it a hunch. 

As much as Dean couldn’t focus on the research, he also knew, believed really, that he had enough brain power left in him to come up with a plan. Okay, maybe less plan, more technique of how to turn Cas away from reading and more to, well, him. 

While the wheels were turning in his head, he must've been staring at Cas pretty intensely, as his blue eyes suddenly left the page again, locking with Dean's own. He could see the other glance down for just a second, where his thumb was resting on his lower lip, before speaking. 

"Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm wonderful," Dean quickly answered, smiling, purposefully dragging the thumb across his lip. 

Cas stared at him for a second, wheels of his own probably spinning in that pretty head of his. Eventually, however, much to Dean's dislike, he turned back to the book. 

The thing about Cas was that he could be a little...unaware sometimes. Especially when his mind was focused on something else. And what is there for Dean to do, if not have a little fun with it? He wasn't opposed to some light teasing, provoking, especially when he could watch Cas slowly get the point of what Dean was suggesting, watch the little light bulb go off behind his eyes. 

Even with the anticipation buzzing all the way down to his fingertips, Dean wanted to make sure he would see this through. It was already past midnight, but he was sure coffee could only do some good, considering the plans he had. And besides, Cas could have some too. Not that he needed it, of course, but it had become something of a habit for the angel. 

"I'm gonna go fetch some coffee, do you want some, sweetheart?" Dean let his voice go sweet, putting a certain weight behind the pet name. They weren't exactly big on those, but when the moment calls...

Cas stared at him again, head slightly titled. Dean couldn't quite tell if he was getting suspicious or just a little ticked off by all the interruptions. 

"Sure, I'll take some if you're going."

Dean beamed at him, as he got up from his chair. Before going to the kitchen, however, he decided to see exactly what Cas was reading. And by 'see', he really meant lean down and pretend like he had a reason as to why he's gone over to Cas' side of the table before getting the coffee. Dean positioned himself on the left of the angel, resting the palm of his hand on the table, and putting the other hand on Cas' back, lightly drawing circles on the skin with his middle finger, right above where his shirt that Cas was wearing began. 

"Which book is this?" Dean asked, slightly turning his head in Cas' direction, but not looking at him. 

"The, um, it's about-"

"No," he chuckled, "I mean the number, how many have you read?" 

"Oh," Cas smiled, "I think this must be my fifth if I'm remembering correctly."

"Ah, well, haven't you just been such a hard worker today?" he placed a quick kiss on Cas' temple, before finally making his way to the kitchen. 

"Such hard work should be followed by a good reward," Dean whispered to himself. 

When he returned with the two coffees, Cas was still in the same position. Figures. He shuffled towards him, placing both of the mugs closer to the middle of the table, so as not to disturb the books placed in a half circle around the angel. 

"Hey," Dean muttered quietly, letting Cas know he was back, just in case he was too focused and didn't hear him come back. 

"Hi, Dean, thank you," he smiled.

It was moments like these, where it was just the two of them, the world quiet and calm like a field covered in snow, no wind and no footsteps, that convinced Dean he would never not feel the way he does now. Even before the confessions and first kisses, there was something about the way Cas would smile at him. It always went hand in hand with a pinch between his ribs, somewhat painful and warm. He kind of expected it to change, now that he knew the other felt the same, now that he had stopped telling himself it would never happen, now that the two of them were different. And yet it hadn't, not really. It knocks something in him loose every time, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad. 

Cas put his book down, interrupting Dean's thoughts once again, presumably to take a sip of his coffee, and Dean simply couldn't pass up that chance. He leant down, gently placing his hands on either side of the angel's face, and kissed him. The immediate jolt at the base of his spine served as a great reminder of what he was after. Cas kissed him back with no hesitation, something lazy and content in the way his lips were moving against Dean's own. That alone was enough for him to rethink his ways, thoughts of just grabbing Cas by the hand and dragging him to their bedroom flooding his mind. But again, where was the fun in that? More than anything, he was craving to see that light bulb moment, when Cas' eyes turned a darker shade of blue, knowing that the buzz in their stomachs and fingers matched each others. 

Dean decided to stay set in his ways, but that didn't mean his self-control was intact. He deepened the kiss, urgency colouring his own quiet sounds, tongue brushing against Cas' lower lip. He could feel one of the angel's hands, the one resting on his waist, softly grabbing at his shirt. 

He ended the kiss with a sharp inhale, eyes closed for a second longer, til the ground beneath his feet felt solid again. 

"Dean.." the rasp in Cas' voice almost made Dean lose his footing again. A beat of silence covered the room, letting Dean focus on the pulsating feeling in his cheeks. 

"What was that for?" Cas looked serious but only in a confused, have-I-missed-something kind of way. It took Dean everything he had not to jump him again. Instead, he just flashed a quick grin at Cas and winked. 

"Nothin', blue eyes, 's just because," he said, giving Cas one last peck on the lips.

He could feel Cas' eyes follow him, as he walked back to his side of the table, right across from Cas. When he looked up, he could see the slight twitch in the angel's eyebrow. For a celestial being, especially one that has seen a lot of what the world has to offer, he really couldn't be any more oblivious sometimes. 

Dean sat back in his chair, the warm coffee cup in his hands matching the warmth in the pit of his stomach. Cas was back to reading again, though Dean could tell he was a little more fidgety than before. He smiled to himself, as he lifted the cup to his lips. He could pretend he was reading, but even that seemed like too much work. After all, he was more than happy to just watch Cas. With the angel already slightly on edge, it was only a matter of time before he was glancing up at Dean every few minutes. 

"Dean...," Cas finally broke after about 30 minutes.

"What?" Dean answered, playing it up just a little bit to sound offended. 

"Why are you staring?"

"Can I not look at my very handsome boyfriend?" he smiled. If there was a gun to his head, he'd have to admit he even fluttered his eyelashes a little.  

The term 'boyfriend', similar to pet names, wasn't something that the pair used very often, but sometimes, well, there was just no way getting past it. Dean didn't necessarily mind the word, just needed some time to get used to it, he thought. 

He could see the slight blush forming in Cas' cheeks. The angel lowered his head, about to return to his task, before looking back up at Dean through his eyebrows for a split second. A look nearly bordering on 'knock it off', but not quite. 

The glances continued, almost like Cas was trying to catch him in the act, like something he did would give away whatever it was that he was thinking. Dean, of course, only saw that as an opportunity to continue his little show. 

By this point he had already finished his coffee, the ring finger of his right hand sliding in circles around the rim of the cup. It wasn't exactly a conscious action, not until he saw Cas glance at his hand. After that, he made it a point to look Cas up and down the next time his eyes wandered back to Dean. The angel only squinted at him.

He had noticed Cas finish off his own coffee not too long ago, so after a few minutes of pretend daydreaming, he got up, hand under his shirt, the palm of his hand resting on his ribs. This time around it wasn't so unintentional, his shirt pulling up slightly, exposing the skin. If Cas could burn holes in him, he was sure he'd be all burnt up by now. But who was he to complain? 

He slowly made his way to the kitchen for a second time, washing up the cups, and sorting out a few other things while he was there. It was nearing 4 am, and as entertaining as it had been, Dean was ready to actually get things going. 

He walked back into the library with a purpose, heading straight to Cas. The angel didn't even have time to blink before Dean was already in front of him, arm stretched out as if he was asking him to dance. Cas put his hand in Dean's, suspicion in his eyes almost completely masked by the gentle amusement. 

Dean barely waited for him to get on his feet before grabbing Cas by the waist with one hand and dragging him closer. Cas just smiled, head tilted to the left ever so slightly.  Good , Dean thought,  better access . 

"I think you should be done now," Dean muttered before scattering light kisses on Cas' neck. 

"Oh, should I?" the angel said, amusement now clear in his voice, Dean humming against his neck.

Dean lifted his head only to give Cas a look that in his head couldn't have looked anything short of hungry. That must've finally filled the missing gap in the angel's mind, as Cas' face finally mirrored the expression that Dean had been thinking about for hours now. The split second of surprise bled into understanding, and his eyes darkened. Maybe it wasn't so much a light bulb going off, as it was a light bulb exploding.

"Oh," Cas whispered.

"Oh," Dean echoed, teasing, whilst it was still his turn. 

"I think you might be right," Cas said, as he stepped forward, hand resting on Dean's chest, softly pushing him back, "I've done enough work for today."

Dean let the angel guide him until he felt his back hit the pillar, the coldness of it seeping through his shirt, a nice distraction from the heat of his own body. Though that didn't last long, as Cas pressed against him, hands sneaking under his shirt, much like Dean himself had done earlier. Cas slid his hand up and down Dean's sides, his fingertips occasionally sinking into Dean's skin. 

He launched forward, only to have Cas swiftly pull back like he was already expecting it. As soon as Dean let his head fall back, resting against the pillar, Cas leaned closer to him again, lips almost touching and whispered:

"I understand you've had your fun, but what about me?" voice sweet, smiling, moving further back and then closer again in waves. 

"Cas..." Dean breathed just as quietly, his throat dry, "Cas, once we get to the bedroom you can have all the fun you want."

"Oh," Cas immediately pulled back, "well, if you say so, Dean." 

As soon as the sentence left Cas' lips, Dean knew. He knew that Cas wouldn't let up until Dean was bordering on incoherent, and, oh, he just couldn't wait. 

[cacoetheswriting]

Hello! I hope all is well. I had a fluffy request if that’s ok? Eddie x fem!reader where reader is an art nerd that likes to draw for their campaigns. One day, they’re hanging out preparing for the campaign and maybe Eddie had a run in with Jason earlier and was feeling a little down that day so then reader just starts aggressivley complimenting him out if nowhere. I really love your work! ❤️

thank youuu for this request & for your sweet words, makes my heart happy that you like my little fics ❤️ hope i did your vision justice!

-

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.6k content warnings: adult language, use of pet names, a little mutual pining, insecurities / self-doubt, mentions of bullying, mainly just fluff - very much unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

Your friendship with Eddie was an odd one — if you could even call it that. More colleagues than friends, to be honest. Or better yet, acquaintances by association.

Freaks. Geeks. Social outcasts.

There was however, one big difference.

Your status at Hawkins High was by design. A strategic decision you put into play long before you even stepped through the building doors. Growing up in a busy house with a younger brother too loud for his own good, solitude was your best friend. Art was your escape. Often you only found time for both at school. So no, you didn’t wanna socialise or try out for the cheerleading team. You were quite content being left alone.

Being neighbours with Nancy Wheeler, and your younger brothers being practically attached at the hip, helped with staying invisible ‘cause who’s gonna bully the girl that sometimes hung out with Nancy and King Steve.

Eddie unfortunately was not as lucky. His label wasn’t his choice — not at first anyway. It followed him through the years from an age arguably too young. No kid deserved to be treated the way he was simply ‘cause of how/where he was brought up. The curly-haired boy couldn’t escape the names, the teasing, the dirty looks. He couldn’t change his fate. So eventually he stopped trying. The Freak.

And perhaps that’s why he’s never fully warmed up to you. You were a fraud, not actually understanding what it’s like to be an outcast.

But it’s not like you cared what Eddie Munson thought of you or if the metalhead liked you in any way. Hanging around him was simply a means to an end. He needed someone to immortalise his D&D campaigns and you needed continuous inspiration as well as material for your portfolio.

Most of your meet-ups were surrounded by quiet.

Thinking back, that was the first mistake since it was in that congenial silence, you noticed how he sucked his lip between his teeth whenever he was deep in thought, and how he’d scrunch his brows together if what he came up with didn’t quite make sense. He was undoubtedly pretty. The faded freckles on his face are reminiscent of a million stars. The dips in his cheeks, appearing whenever he smiled, comparable to picturesque valleys. Those big brown of his eyes were like chocolate buttons and the more time you spent together, the more you thought you caught him glancing in your direction with that cocoa gaze, but that would be insane. Right?

It was also in those moments, as you drew the monsters he described in grave detail, you got to see the Eddie he so desperately tried to hide away from the rest of the world. The real Eddie. He was ridiculously smart. Not many people in Hawkins, if any at all aside from your silly little brother with his band of friends, could come up with such intricate ideas. Funny too, making you snort a laugh one too many times with practically zero effort. And he was kind. Asking you how your day was, seeming genuinely interested in your answer.

The small talk was kept to a minimum in the hours you two spent working on the campaigns, but whenever you did have a short conversation, Eddie always made sure his attention was focused solely on you. The second mistake was letting him, because being his priority, if only in the moment, made your stomach flutter.

But today Eddie hasn't uttered a single word aside from a measly hello when you opened your front door earlier that afternoon to let him in.

Normally the silence doesn’t bother you. If anything, you welcome it as it helps you concentrate on the details of any piece you’re currently working on. There was just something about the way Eddie was sitting that made you feel uneasy. He didn’t seem present. Leaning against your dresser, legs sprawled out in front of him, gaze focused on something out the window as he fidgeted with the pencil in his hand.

At first you thought maybe he was planning the next move in his new campaign and just needed a minute, but then fifteen minutes passed and the metalhead still hadn’t moved. If you didn’t know any better, you’d doubt he was even breathing. As still as a rock.

A sudden wave of concern rushes through you and without taking a second to consider what you were doing, you grab one of the pillows from your bed and throw it in his direction.

“Shit, what the—”

“Are you okay?”

Eddie’s not sure how to answer that question, especially when he looks at you. Eyes wider than normal, accompanied by delicate worry lines that he's never really been on the receiving end of — aside from Wayne's constant frown. Eddie first thinks you're clearly faking the concern 'cause why would you actually care? But the longer his gaze remains connected with yours, the more he wants to believe your sincerity is genuine. And that's fucking scary.

“Yeah,” he says eventually. “Just a lot on my mind. Nothin' you need to worry about.”

But you don't give up as easily as he hoped you would.

“Wanna talk about it?”

His lips twitch though he never actually smiles and you are certain then something definitely happened because it's as if he really wants to offer you a glimpse of happiness, but his body is refusing.

Dropping his gaze to the pencil in his hands, Eddie sighs. “You don't have to do that.”

“Do what?” You ask, stringing your brows together.

“Pretend like you actually give a shit,” he replies with a little more disdain than intended while once again catching your eyes with his own.

You don't mean to scoff, but you do. “Look, Eddie, I know we're not like best of friends or anything,”  you begin, hopping off the bed with an elegant bounce. “But considering lately I spend more time with you than Nancy or Steve, I feel like we can at least talk about shit, no? Like when something is bothering us, we can talk about that.”

He's slightly surprised at your words. The admission that you hang out with him more than your actual friends didn't seem right to him. In his mind, you and Wheeler are inseparable. He sees you two together all the time, sharing a ride to school, having lunch at the same table. And in the evenings or at the weekends, you're always around Harrington and that other girl, Buckley. Not like Eddie seeks you wherever he goes... He's just... observant.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Eddie rolls his eyes, tone full of disbelief. “You don't gotta lie to make me feel better.”

“I'm not,” you defend and sit cross-legged at his feet, knees brushing against the soles of his dirty Converse in the process. You know you don't owe him an explanation or reasoning, but it seems Eddie won't let up about what's on his mind without one. 

“Nancy and I have drifted apart since I kinda took Steve's side in their breakup. Sure we carpool and sit at the same table in the cafeteria, and our idiotic brothers are good friends, but that's pretty much it.”

Eddie starts to feel like a jerk for assuming shit when he clearly had no clue, but you don't give him a chance to interject. 

“And yeah, I see Steve often, but it's not like we're all buddy-buddy. He likes it when I stop by the video store to literally sit on the counter and draw his stupid head of hair just so he can make other girls jealous.”

“Jesus, that's shitty.”

You shrug, a small smile circling your lips. “I don't mind. Free film rental and peaceful sketching time.”

The lighthearted tone of your voice makes the corners of Eddie's mouth curl upwards, matching the expression currently present on your face. There's a semi-second of quiet. He's no longer feeling bad 'cause you've taken those worries away with one simple look. And when you knock your knee against his shoe again, Eddie's completely relaxed.

Lost in the way the sun reflects in your eyes, the metalhead doesn't really think when he asks, “So how come you've never invited me over for movie night, huh?”

You smirk. “Horrors aren't really my thing. I actually like to enjoy what I'm watching,” you tease, “Even if the shit is free. Don't wanna see any decapitations, thank you very much.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. He pulls his legs up before sliding along the carpeted floor of your bedroom until he's about a reach away from you. Closer than he's ever been. His arms make way around his legs, ring-clad fingers hanging low, poking at your calf.

Surprisingly, you don't flinch at Eddie's sudden proximity or the delicate touch.

“Quite presumptuous of you, sweetheart.” He affirms, gaze focused on where his skin brushes against the denim of your jeans.

“So you don't only watch gruesome things?” You challenge, your own fingers hesitantly reaching towards him, stopping before you can actually graze him in any way.

Eddie's smirking. “Not the point.”

“Sounds like I'm right,” you muse, your smile growing wider. “But I'll make you a deal.”

He looks up to meet your eyes then, hiking a brow. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod. “If you tell me what you were thinking about earlier, I'll let you pick a movie we can watch together. Even something horrific.”

This was uncharted territory — (and also your third mistake). The two of you have never hung out outside of working on D&D campaigns, but since Eddie asked a mere minute ago, even if he was just teasing, you figured why the fuck not. What's the worst that could happen? Plus this seemed the only way to get him to open up.

Eddie tugs his bottom lip between his teeth as he mewls over your proposal. On the one hand, talking about feelings or problems isn't something he's necessarily into. And when it comes to spending time with you, part of the allure is congenial silence, unless he's the one fishing for information. On the other hand, his heart rate has increased tenfold at the thought of you hiding in his embrace during a particularly gross scene or before any jump scare.

In the end, the physical urge to be close to you, an unmistakable desire he's been experiencing for far longer than Eddie would care to admit out loud, wins.

“Carver just got in my head.”

The instant frown on your face, and how your fingers are suddenly reaching for his, looping together, make Eddie want to elaborate.

“Called me talentless. Usually the shit that douche and his gang of imbeciles spewer doesn't bother me 'cause I've been called many things throughout my life and whatever they come up with is more idiotic than hurtful, but I dunno, that comment just rubbed me the wrong way.”

He drops his gaze, focusing instead on your hands now perfectly intertwined. He began to rub gentle circles into your soft flesh and although this was completely odd behaviour for the two of you, it felt more than right.

“Because it's not true, Eddie.”

The metalhead's heart flips at your words and the encouraging tone behind them. Although he didn’t let it show, focusing instead on the dips between your knuckles and every single crease in your skin as he squeezed your hand just a little tighter.

“You're not talentless,” you affirm, dipping your head lower in hopes of catching his brown eyes. “If anything, you're one of the most talented people I've ever met.”

“Bullshit,” he mutters, still refusing to look up.

“Eddie, you can't let those idiots make you feel worthless. You've got more talent in your left pinky than Carver and his band of bullies have put together.” You declare, rather passionately at that. “These campaigns you come up with, do you know the imagination that takes? I-I also know you play the guitar a-and sing too. Plus those extra curricular activities of yours require a mathematical brain. That's already also more talent than I have.”

He glances up at you then. “Shut up. As if you actually think I'm more talented than you?” he disputes and jerks his head towards some of the drawings covering the walls. “No one I know could do that and I know I never told you, but my campaigns would be nothin' without your art, sweetheart.”

Although heat rushes to your face at the unexpected compliment, you don't let Eddie's kind words steer you off course. This wasn't about what he thought of you, this was about what you thought of him and, as it turns out, how badly you wanted him to know.

“My stupid brother won't shut up about how fucking cool you are,” you reveal, chewing briefly on the inside of your cheek. “He's never said anything remotely as nice about me.”

Eddie lets out an airy chuckle. He drops his hold on you, but he doesn't give you a moment to even register how you instantly miss his touch, how your hands are burning with invisible imprints of where his skin brushed yours. No, because he's pushing your legs apart with little to no effort and sliding in-between them.

“Well, I happen to think you're cooler than me.”

It's your turn to laugh while again choosing not to comment on his closeness and ignoring how it made you feel. Ignoring how your stomach fluttered as he pressed his legs to your sides, hands hovering near your face as if he debated whether he was crossing some sort of line.

“Right. Don't fuck with me, Munson.”

“Cross my heart,” the metalhead promises. “Why do you think I asked you to help me out in the first place? Why do you think I willingly spend most of my afternoons with you? Like, there's no need for us to do this together. I can come up with the campaigns on my own then share the concepts so you can draw them out.”

You swallow 'cause the thought has never crossed your mind.

Before Eddie approached you with the offer, your knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons was definitely limited, only privy to whatever your brother and his friends shared. When Eddie asked you to draw something that very first time, and every time after that, you didn't stop and think if it was really necessary for you two to sit together for hours on end, crafting and creating on opposite ends of the room. Now that he's mentioned it, you really didn't need to.

“I-I don't—”

“There's no cooler chick than you, sweetheart.” Eddie interrupts, hands now cupping your face, no longer hesitant, and you're left wondering when the topic shifted from a conversation about his talents to whatever this was shaping up to be.

“Eddie...”

“How Harrington can use you to make other girls jealous instead of realising he should just ask you out, I-I don't understand.” The sentence fades with each word until his voice is a low muffle and you're not entirely sure you heard him correctly.

But every fibre of your being is screaming, so you know he definitely said it. And the way his doe-eyes are glimmering, your own reflection prominent in the pretty brown, only cinches that feeling.

Your final mistake is not asking then and there what Eddie meant.

He stands shortly after and extends a hand to also help you up.

“Speaking of, is the King of Hawkins working right now?” Eddie asks and when you nod slowly, still recovering from the small bomb he's after dropping, he claps his hands together. “Let's go then. I'm thinking we can start with My Bloody Valentine and because you're providing the entertainment, I'll get us some snacks.”

thank you for reading!

eddie munson masterlist | main masterlist

[cookiesupplier]

I saw your post and want to throw a request your way.

Noah Sebastian x reader

The reader has been struggling with depression and decides that she wants Nick to give her her first tattoo. Something that she would be able to look at when she is going through a rough time mentally and remind her that she matters. Noah would be there with her while she gets the tattoo. Maybe have it be on her ribcage or something like that.

Okay, so I’ve never gotten my ribcage tattoo’d personally, but from what I’ve been told it can be a painful/sensitive area to tattoo so I’m going to go with that. I am going to play on the face that my first tattoo was quite large and everyone tried to talk me out of it for my first one lolll This is only a blurby, but I sort of used a tattoo idea I really want to get for myself.. and I went with first person, which I've never done before.. so I hope I didn't do too badly for you!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Noah squeezed my hand tightly, and I looked up to him where he sat in his chair by the tattoo bed looking over me. I was laying on my side, I’d worn a halter top to make it easier for Nicholas to access the skin along my ribs without having to take my entire top half off. Not that I’d have a problem with it, some might think my boyfriend might, but the fact that it was his best friend that he trusted most in the whole world that was the one tattooing me, well, I knew it wasn’t going to be a problem. We’d already had this discussion, and I’d been sure to talk to Noah about it first. I was the one that asked him to be here. He wasn’t here to be the overprotective boyfriend, he was here as emotional support. He was here for me to break his hand if the needle gun got too much. After all, it was the very first time I was to get a tattoo. It was understandable I was nervous. After Nicholas had rubbed the cool gel into my skin, both Nicholas and Noah checked if I was okay. I told them I was. After he placed the stencil, peeling it back to reveal the transferred imagery that included the fated lyrics that spoke to me so intensely. Seeing them there on my skin, even if temporarily for the moment, my breath caught and I could feel my eyes sting with slight tears and that was when Noah squeezed my hand so tight, “Are you sure you’re okay Baby?” Resting my head back down on the tattoo bed, looking up to Noah as he look down to my, smiling even as my  eyes glazed a little, “Yea, I’m great.” I wasn’t lying either, smiling a bit more, excited as Nicholas reached for the tattoo gun. “This is really going to hurt you know…” You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Noah had reminded me so many times ever since I’d told him what I wanted to do. “I know, I know! Geeze, it’s like you’re trying to talk me out of walking the plank!” It was a tattoo, my first, and yes it was my ribs. At least he hadn’t once tried to talk me out of getting lyrics from one of their songs, knowing what they meant to me. Careful What You Wish For, had been a song that had gotten me out of such a horrible place in my life, the whole second album had in a way. I sometimes found it hard to express just how much outside of that song, which was why I wanted to immortalise it on my skin. Most of the tattoo was inspired imagery that Nicholas had designed, he was an amazing artist, but he had slipped some of the lyrics in there, the ones that meant the most to me.. This tattoo was to remind me that tough times didn’t last forever, and to always keep going. After all, the man that took part in writing the very lyrics I was inking to my skin, the man that held my hand and supported me even if I was jumping in feet first for a tattoo that most people wouldn’t choose for their first.. At all.. He still was right here beside me. Nicholas started up the tattoo gun and the buzzing filled the room, “Let’s do this.” Grinning brightly as I looked from Noah over my shoulder to Nicholas with a nod, I was  ready when he was. The way Noah gripped my fingers too tight, I would swear he was more nervous than I was. That thought made me giggle a little. “Are you alright Babe? Don’t need to lie down with me, do you?” Smirking as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t laugh, you need to lay still.” He nodded to Nick, “Go on, she’s good.” Smiling down to me fondly. I loved him so much. I was glad I was careful what I wished for, because I would never want to miss one day with this man for any stupid mistake in the world.