#but it seems as though people like when i paint? so that's a plus

[vanweezer]

unfinished jancy, idk when i started this. head bonk ❗

theres a lot about this that i would change if i ever got my mittens on a computer again, but i still enjoyed the process. would yall wanna see more unfinished work that i have in this style?

[strang3lov3]

Rescue Mission

“You take him beautifully, birdie. Beautifully,” Ezra says, now drawing in and out of you at a faster pace. “Look how happy he is inside a’ ya. You’re soakin’ the fella.”

Tags - smut, dubcon, dbf/dad’s weed guy/uncle!ezra (he’s not your biological uncle. I promise), pussy job, unprotected piv, creampie, cock pronouns in excess, cock nicknames (fella, bastard), Ezra’s cock has a titan’s girth (thank @beefrobeefcal), fire hazards, plumber’s crack, smoking weed, a tasteful amount of pussy pronouns, me writing Ezra comes with its own warning, surprise surprise Ezra is morally bankrupt, Beefro contributed so I’m not all to blame, Ezra has a lot more jizz than the average man. i don't know how to summarize this. Fic Help - thank you @beefrobeefcal for being my guiding light. Without you this fic would be nothing! thank you @endlessthxxghts and @noxturnalnymph for your eyeballs! A/N - heddo! I finished my research paper but I still have a few things to do as far as school goes, but the end of the semester is right around the corner!! Thank you all for being so patient with me this month. I love you. Mwah!

This is my submission for @sp00kymulderr’s cock pronoun event. I had so much fun with this!! Thank you for hosting, Gideon!!

After packing your old Vera Bradley weekender duffel bag with the last of your clothes for the long weekend ahead of you, you open up your phone one last time to check the weather. It’s not supposed to snow until later in the afternoon, but you’ll make it to your dad’s before then. 

You haul your duffel into the backseat of your car, then carefully place two 9x13 Pyrex pans covered in tin foil next to it. Your dad asked that you prepare a couple of Thanksgiving sides - sweet potatoes and broccoli cheese casserole. Your dad is taking care of the turkey, with other extended family members taking care of everything else. 

You do one last quick check to make sure everything is in order, taking care to give your cat an extra scoop of food.

Fuck - the litter box. You almost forgot! You thoroughly clean it so your neighbor doesn’t have as much work to do when they’re caring for your cat in your absence, but you realize you forgot to buy a new tub of litter at the store the other day. Not to worry, your dad left you some in the trunk of your car for some reason or another. You’ll just leave that for your neighbor to use. 

You get into the driver’s seat after turning off all the lights and pull up directions to your dad’s on your phone and put on Father John Misty’s newest album, then you’re on your merry way. 

About a quarter way through your drive, you have to turn your windshield wipers on. It’s not bad, but there’s the tiniest sprinkle of snow coming down. It’s probably nothing. People are driving like morons under just the threat of snow, but it’s nothing. It’ll be fine. At a stoplight, you change the music. This time, you listen to Love Deluxe by Sadé, one of your Uncle Ezra’s favorite albums. You wonder if you’ll see him at Thanksgiving. 

Quickly, the snow becomes not-nothing. The further you drive, the worse it gets. The snowflakes are getting bigger and coming down heavier, and the road ahead of you is becoming so covered that you can hardly make out the white and yellow lines painted on the road. You’ve slowed to driving at about twenty miles an hour, and you’re growing nervous. It seems like you’re headed deeper into the storm. 

Forty-five minutes pass, though you’ve not driven more than ten miles. It’s coming down now, and the roads are so thick with snow that you’re driving at what feels slower than a glacial pace. This is getting dangerous. The good news, however, is that you did see plow trucks driving down the opposite side of the median. Not confident in your ability to safely drive through what is now probably three inches of snow on the ground, plus the added slush and ice, you decide to pull over and wait for a truck to salt and plow the roads before continuing on your way. You turn on your hazards and watch the traffic move slowly ahead of you; it seems that nobody else has the same idea as you. 

You text your dad first just to let him know that you’ll be a bit late, that you’re pulling over to wait out the storm and wait for the roads to be plowed. 

Ok. Stay safe. - Dad.

Things could be worse, right? You’re safe and warm in your car, you have plenty of gas in the tank. It’s probably another 45 minutes of just waiting, but finally, it happens: plow trucks drive by, salting the roads in their wake. Halle-fucking-lujah. You adjust your mirrors, put your seatbelt back on, and throw the gear shift into drive. Aaand…

You’re stuck. 

You press the gas again, and you’re still stuck. It doesn’t take long for you to start to panic. But your dad will know what to do, right? You call your dad and explain the situation to him. 

“Try rocking the car,” your dad tells you.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Forward, reverse. Forward, reverse.”

With your dad on speakerphone, you try just that, but it’s a difficult maneuver. “It’s not working, Dad.”

“Okay, okay. Can you dig yourself out?”

“No!” you whine. “I am not doing that.”

Your dad’s eye roll is audible. “Alright. Cat litter. I left you cat litter in your trunk last time you came up, remember? Sprinkle that around your tires, it should give you enough traction to get out.”

“Cat litter…cat litter…”

“Yes, the cat litter. That I left in your trunk.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Yes. About that.” 

Your dad groans on the other end of the phone, “You have to be kidding. Okay. Hang on, where are you again?”

“Just past…I don’t know. I’ll drop you a pin.” You text your dad your location. The text takes some time to go through, but it does. 

“Alright. Uncle Ezra’s not far from you. I’ll give him a call, see if he can’t pick you up. Hang tight.”

“Isn’t he with you?”

“No,” your dad replies. “Why would he be with me?”

“I just figured he’d be up for Thanksgiving too.”

“I invited him, but I never heard back. Dude probably forgot. Okay, call you back.”

Sounds like Ezra. Ezra always was an…odd duck. You remember him visiting from time to time when you were a kid, and he and your dad would spend a lot of time locked in the garage together. It wasn’t until much later that you realized they were smoking weed. 

Ezra’s not your uncle, not really. It’s just what he calls himself. He’s your dad’s old coworker turned weed dealer turned buddy. Probably still sells your dad weed, though. Ezra also used to sell your dad quarter sticks of dynamite for the Fourth of July, and both of them made you promise not to tell anyone about that.

  Ezra was always a comforting, if somewhat peculiar, presence in your life. He called himself your guardian angel and texted you from an unknown number - he never has the same phone number whenever he texts you - on your twenty-first birthday, promising that one day soon he’d take you out for a beer. 

Your dad calls you back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet him back. 

Your dad cuts right to the chase. He tells you that Uncle Ezra is on his way, that he has your location and he’ll come pick you up in thirty minutes. Worry about towing your car later, et cetera. 

“Okay. Love you. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Love you too, honey. Be safe.”

-

‘On his way’ your ass. True to Uncle Ezra’s style, he doesn’t show up until nearly two and a half hours later. It’s just like that time he told you he’d pick you up from something at eleven and didn’t show up until the clock said 11:47. ‘Yeah,” he said, ‘Clock still says eleven, don’t it?’  He pulls up next to your car in a beat up old Kia van, the same Kia he’s been driving for years. 

Ezra hops out of his car, clad in snow boots, plaid pajama bottoms, a Carhartt jacket, and a fleece trapper hat. He stomps through the snow and opens your door, then ushers you into his van. “I apologize for the delay. Wasn’t expectin’ to be assigned a rescue mission,” he shouts at you. You’re not sure why he’s yelling. 

You watch Ezra grab your prepared food and the duffel from the back of your car, his ass crack visible through his falling pants. Ezra tosses it all haphazardly in his before getting back into the driver’s seat. He’s covered in snow, stomping off the flakes before looking over at you. With his dark brown eyes narrowed in your direction, he scans you up and down. “What on God’s green earth is the matter with you? You intended to traverse without the proper coverage?” 

“Excuse me?”

It takes your brain double the time to process Ezra’s words. You forgot about the unique way he speaks, his very particular vocabulary. You wonder where he picked up that way of speaking.

Ezra gestures to your torso. Oh, you think. Right. You’re just wearing a hoodie. You suppose it could have been a problem, had your car’s heat gone out.  

“Jacket,” he chastises you. 

“Yeah, no. I got it.”

“Then where is it?”

“No- like, I understood what you-” Ezra stares at you expectantly, with raised eyebrows. “Never mind.”

Ezra shakes his head in disappointment, then puts his foot on the brake of his Kia and pulls it into drive. “My domicile will have to do for you tonight, birdie. If you are amenable to it, of course.” 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Works for me.”

-

It takes Ezra about forty-five minutes to drive back to his house, which is located behind a water tower and a church off of a highway exit. It’s in a secluded area, thick with trees, the snow much heavier on the unplowed roads over here. Ezra pulls into his driveway, then opens the garage via a remote control attached to his sun visor. He gets out of his seat first, then rounds the front of his van and opens your door. “Hold onto me,” he tells you, holding out his arm. “You’re liable to slip and fall on these slick grounds.” 

You take hold of Ezra’s sleeve, and he carefully helps you out of the van and ushers you inside his house. “Get settled in. I shall retrieve your belongings and return to you post haste.”

You toe off your shoes and leave them on Ezra’s doormat, then begin strolling through his home, perusing through his belongings. His home is cluttered yet clean; lava lamps left on, paintings of St. Francis and St. Gertrude on the walls in his game room, which has floor to ceiling bookshelves full of board games and Dungeons & Dragons paraphernalia. A Halloween bucket full of month-old candy on the table. The house smells strongly of incense, and when you turn the corner and enter the living room you see that Ezra’s left his fireplace lit. 

“Awh shit, must’ve slipped my mind,” Ezra says, noticing the same thing you do. He’s got your duffel bag on his back and the Pyrex pans in his arms. He sets all items down, then goes back into his garage without a word. A few minutes pass and you’re left confused by his absence, so you follow him. 

“Uncle Ezra?”

Ezra’s at his workbench, the warm flicker of a flame illuminating his handsome features as he lights a joint. He blows out the smoke, then smiles at you. “Joinin’ me?”

“Uhhh…”

“C’mon,” he urges. “It’s the holidays.” 

You join Ezra at his workbench, still unsure if you want to partake yet. While Ezra smokes, you study his workbench. There’s not one tool in sight, but there’s lucky bingo trolls, little Buddha statues, snow globes, and other little tchotchkes sitting on the bench. It’s lit by old, dim, rainbow Christmas lights, and little ornaments hang from the wire. You touch an ornament depicting John McClane from Die Hard in when he’s in the air vent, turning it side to side as you inspect it. 

“Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker,” Ezra croaks out with a smile then coughs. He offers you his joint. “Let’s have ourselves a merry little Christmas, now.” 

“It’s Thanksgiving, Ez.” 

Ezra’s brows knit together, “What’d I say?”

“Christmas.”

“Oh.”

Ezra’s still confused as he puts the pieces together, and then he realizes you’re correct. “I suppose you’re right, little bird. In any case, s’a reason to celebrate with a little green, no?”

“I’m not sure Thanksgiving is the weed-smoking holiday.” 

“Oh, but it is indeed, little bird. C’mere.” Ezra takes a pull from the joint held between his middle and forefingers, then, still holding the joint, puts both hands on your cheeks and pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours. He blows the smoke into your mouth, “Attagirl,” he says, his lips curled in a wry smile that makes your stomach churn and your heart flutter. You cough a bit, turning away from him to hide your flustered expression. Ezra pats you on the back. “You’re alright. You got it.” 

He pulls off his trapper hat then, setting it on the workbench. His black hair all messy, and he’s gotten grayer since you’ve seen him last, but that little white streak is still prominent as ever. “Let’s get you somethin’ to eat. Betcha need somethin’ in ya,” he says. 

Ezra ushers you inside, then sits you down on a barstool at the kitchen counter window. He opens his once white but yellowing-with-age refrigerator, scratching the back of his head as he examines his lack of contents in it. “I got…uh…” he trails off, bending his upper half to look through condiments and cans of ginger ale. “Wasn’t expectin’ company.” He opens a box of take-out, takes a whiff, and recoils. “Christ almighty,” he exclaims, “Don’t even wanna know what that most unholy concoction is.” then throws the box away. 

You have to laugh. Ezra is as Ezra as ever. Charming, bizarre, endearing, confusing. He’s never had his shit together, not once. You slide out of your barstool, then head into the kitchen to join him. You nudge him to the side, then pull out your Pyrex pans of Thanksgiving sides from his refrigerator. He’s got an R2-D2 magnet holding up a paper full of logins and passwords on it. ‘ezralikesballs’ is his WiFi password, apparently. 

Ezra smirks at you, tapping his index finger against his temple. “Smart girl,” he says, watching as you start pressing buttons on his oven. “Hold it right there–” Ezra pushes you out of the way and opens the oven door, pulling out various Halloween decorations, all of them plastic, before allowing you to preheat his oven. “Didn’t have a proper place to store ‘em.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. How this man made it past forty years is beyond you. You preheat Ezra’s oven, then sit back down at the barstool as you wait for it to heat up. Ezra pours you a glass of ginger ale, and you spend the time until your food is warmed talking. 

Ezra doesn’t have oven mitts or potholders, so you have to pull your pans out with kitchen towels. You carefully pull off the foil, and Ezra’s standing beside you with plates and forks, ready to serve you both. 

“Goddamn,” he marvels, salivating at the sight of the food you prepared. “You made all of this?”

“I did, yeah,” you reply, smiling shyly. 

“Beautiful. Jus’ beautiful.” Ezra serves himself first, a generous helping of both the sweet potatoes and broccoli casserole. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a can of Ocean Spray jellied cranberry sauce, “Knew this’d come in handy. Never hurts to have a can of this stuff for emergencies,” Ezra tells you, waving the can in your direction. He serves you next, then opens the cranberry sauce and puts a bit of it on both of your plates. You avert your eyes from the expiration date on the can. You don’t wanna know.

With a nod of his head, Ezra tells you to go sit in his living room. He pushes an ottoman in your direction with his foot, then sits down on his sofa. He pats the spot next to himself, “C’mere, sweetheart. Uncle Ezra missed his birdie.” You sit next to Ezra, who then turns on his TV. He puts on the Thanksgiving classic, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, which is also one of his favorite movies. “‘Tis the season.” 

-

Ezra nudges you and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Wake up, sleepyhead. The hour’s come for us to adjourn to my quarters,” he drawls. 

“Hm?”

You hadn’t even realized you were asleep, and asleep on Ezra’s shoulder at that. In your head, you thought you could still hear the movie, that you were following along to it. You’re surprised to see Steve Martin cursing out the airport attendant on Ezra’s TV. 

“Bedtime,” he says. “Upstairs.” 

“Oh. That’s okay, Uncle Ezra. I’m fine right here.” 

“On the sofa?”

“Yeah.” 

“No.”

You turn your head to face Ezra better, stunned. “No?”

“This couch is Hans’ domain. Best not to provoke the fella. Don’t feel like settin’ him off tonight.” 

Hans is Ezra’s cat that you’ve rarely ever seen, but have often felt when his feather-duster tail brushes your foot, heard him when he hisses at you before skittering off into a dark corner. He has to be in his twenties at this point, an Eldritch creature. Hans was ancient when Ezra found him palling around with a raccoon by his garbage, and that was years ago. Ezra’s always spoken about him like Hans is an abusive husband, that one wrong move could result in a reckoning most unpleasant. You’re glad to know the beast is well. 

Ezra stands up first, then stretches backward, exposing his soft, pillowy tummy and happy trail to you. He smirks when he catches you looking. “Your turn, birdie. Up you go.” Ezra bends forward and takes hold of both of your hands, then guides you upstairs and into his bedroom. 

You enter the dark room first, Ezra right behind you with his hand on the small of your back. He turns the lights on and his bed is neatly made with the scratchiest flannel sheets that have to be well over decades old, knit afghans that are even older and have absolutely seen better days. Ezra peels off his clothes, tossing them into a laundry basket on the floor. Clad in nothing but boxers, Ezra gets into his bed. 

God, it is sweltering. Ezra’s house is warm to begin with, but does not heat efficiently at all. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and change, pulling out from your duffel only an oversized t-shirt. You’ll just be strategic, so as not to flash Ezra. 

You return to Ezra’s bedroom, and he looks halfway asleep already. “Do Uncle Ezra a kindness, darlin’, and hit the lights for me.” Ezra makes a lazy gesture toward the light switch by the door. 

You turn off the light, and darkness consumes the small bedroom until Ezra turns on his small CRT-TV, Die Hard playing and already halfway through. Another one of Ezra’s favorite films, as evidenced by the name he gave his cat and the little ornament in the garage. You’re not much of a sleep-with-the-TV-on person, but Ezra’s blackout blinds kind of freak you out so it’s nice to have that light. Plus, the volume is low enough. It’s been a long, long day. It weirds you out a little to sleep next to Ezra, but you know that while he’s a strange and bizarre man, he’s ultimately harmless. You slide into bed, exhausted to the point that you’re not even bothered by Ezra’s rock-hard mattress or the scratchiness of his sheets and blankets. The minute your head hits the pillow, you’re asleep. 

-

You wake up in Ezra’s bedroom to that suffocating, smothering heat, the hot air so thick that it burns your nose and your throat. God, how does he sleep this way? His flannel sheets under your body are also warm, and Ezra’s insulating all that heat with his own body. Ezra’s cuddling you tightly, and you’re not sure when that happened, not sure whether he initiated it or if you did. Despite the heat, you don’t entirely mind when he snuggles you closer, curling himself around your body. Nuzzling the back of your neck, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. 

Until you do mind. 

He groans when he presses himself tightly against your frame, his hard cock against your ass as he ruts his hips into you. 

“Uncle Ezra,” you whisper, scooting your body in the opposite direction. In Ezra’s unconscious state, he pulls you back against his body, now fully grinding his hard bulge into your backside with a rhythmic tilting of his hips. “Ezra,” you hiss, voice firmer.

“Wha…” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep, his words slow and slurred. His brow pinched together and his eyes are squeezed shut to block out bluish light from his TV. “What’s ‘a matter?”

“You- your-” You swallow, trying to summon the words. 

“What’s that? You’re havin’ a nightmare of sorts? C’mere, sweet birdie. Go back to sleep. I gotcha.” Ezra presses a kiss against the back of your head.

“N-no, fuck. Ezra-” You wiggle out from Ezra’s hold, then flip over onto your back. 

The loss of your warm body against his cock, that’s when it all clicks for Ezra. “Ohhhh, I get it,” he murmurs, chuckling. “I understand perfectly well.”

“Yeah…”

“I do apologize, little bird,” Ezra says in a raspy, low voice. He reaches for your cheek and drags his pointer finger up and down the soft skin there. “The bastard’s got a mind of his own, doesn’t he?”

Jesus Christ, he’s so fucking weird. He? Ezra’s given his cock pronouns?

“S’alright, go on back to sleep, now.” 

This has to be a nightmare. Or something in between a nightmare and a wet dream. You’ve had those before, anyway. You drift off to sleep once more, then awake again to Ezra’s bulge against you. This time, you feel more of him. His underwear is off, and he’s rubbing the head of his cock against your pussy. “Ezra!”

“What’s troublin’ ya now, birdie, tell me.” 

“You…fuck.”

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong and you know it. But goddamn, if his cock isn’t thick. Ezra keeps rocking his hips, grunting softly in your ear as he rubs his hard length against your pussy, arousal dampening the cotton of your underwear. 

“I do apologize for wakin’ ya with my member, but he’s got a titan’s girth, birdie. What’s a man to do?”

Titan’s girth…what the fuck. You don’t even know where to begin deciphering that statement. Right now, the only thing on your mind is fighting the growing heat, that sticky feeling building deep in your belly as Ezra continues to grind against you. His little noises of pleasure aren’t helping in the slightest. 

“Let’s get you outta these,” Ezra huffs rather impatiently, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties, then pulls them down with a practiced ease. He tilts your ass, “Yeah, lay like that. You won’t even know he’s there,” he whispers, then slots his length between your lips, coating himself in your arousal as he moves his hips. “Don’t pay him any mind, birdie.”

“Ez- oh, fuck–” you gasp when the thick head of his cock catches against your clit, sparking a pleasure even more intense. “We - you can’t.”

“Oh, I know, angel. He just needs to feel ya a bit, that’s all. Not gonna feel any sort ‘a - fuck–” Ezra notches his tip inside you, only temporarily as he continues rutting, “Any intrusion of any sort.” 

“O-okay.” 

Ezra snakes a hand under your shirt and paws at your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh in such a manner so as not to be too harsh, but god, he could tear you apart. Ever the gentleman, he holds back, teasing your nipples with his fingers instead. You moan a little louder, a little more sweetly when he does that to you. 

It’s an excruciating tease - long, arduous, excruciating. Ezra needs more from you. He could get himself off just like this, fucking your slick folds and no more, but Ezra’s really not one to deprive himself. He’s always been a bit of a libertine in that regard, believing that pleasure’s good for the heart, good for the soul, too. He can’t stave off his hedonistic tendencies much longer, “Ohh, Christ. You feel how fuckin’ hard he is? He needs ya somethin’ fierce, birdie. Needs to be inside that sweet cunt of yours.”

“Ezra…”

“Why don’t you let him in, sweetheart? You need it too, I know you do.”

“We really shouldn’t, Ezra.”

“Says who, sweetheart? Ah–” Ezra notches his tip inside you fully, inching inside you little by little, “You cure what ails him, little bird. Be a lamb, now.” Ezra pushes inside you in one full thrust, burying himself down to the hilt. Ezra did get you sufficiently wet, but it’s still, still such a stretch. You wince in pain, and Ezra covers your mouth to quiet your cry. “You’ll get used to him. Relax, angel. M’gonna have him take good care of ya.” 

With that, Ezra builds a slow pace at first. Just steadily moving in and out of you, his short term goal only to get you used to the thickness of his member. “Ezra,” you sigh. 

“You take him beautifully, birdie. Beautifully,” Ezra says, now drawing in and out of you at a faster pace. “Look how happy he is inside a’ ya. You’re soakin’ the fella.”

Ezra moves fluidly, thrusting in and out of you as he breathes heavily in your ear, whispering swears you’ve only rarely heard him speak. This angle in particular has Ezra hitting that most special place inside of you as that hot, fiery pleasure inside you intensifies tenfold. 

He’s sweaty and warm against you, his body slick with sweat. You clutch his forearm as he fucks you, rocking your hips to match his thrusts. He feels so fucking good, good enough to scramble every thought in your brain. His cock is so long and thick and curved at just the perfect angle. 

Ezra wriggles his arm down the front of you, fingers immediately finding your clit. You gasp when he touches it, rubbing perfect, practiced circles into the sensitive bud. “Oh fuck, Ezra.” 

“Yeah, she likes that, doesn't she, birdie? Don’t take much at all.” Ezra smiles behind you, then presses a kiss against your cheek. He breathes you in as he fucks you, rubbing your clit with precision to bring you to the edge. Within seconds, you’re whimpering, thighs twitching against his large, masculine hand. “Let go,” he grunts. “Come all over him.” 

With his ministrations, his cock fucking you perfectly, you come with a loud symphony of moans, a mixture of swears and Ezra’s own name. Your pulsing cunt coaxes Ezra’s own orgasm along, walls squeezing around him as he paints your insides with so, so much come. A truly astounding amount of come. 

“Ohhh, he needed that,” Ezra groans, pulling out of you with no regard for his spend that spills out of you and onto his flannel sheets. “Thanks for humorin’ him, birdie. Go on and get some sleep now.”

If you enjoyed, please please please reblog with some kind thoughts or send me an ask!! Your feedback means the world to me and keeps me motivated to write, and goes so far in making this blog feel like a community 🩷

[tobiasdrake]

I really do love how much you can tell about Doomguy just from looking around his room.

Like. Yeah, all the stuff you expect to see is there.

He's got his big ol' gun rack.

What appears to be a rock he uses as a punching bag.

Whetstone for sharpening his knives. All the Real Manly Violence Man stuff you'd think would be there.

But also a pair of nunchaku. Doomguy has never used nunchaku in any of his games. Those are just there because apparently he's the kind of dork who likes to play around with nunchaku and pretend he's doing kung fu.

Also a jump rope. Gotta keep his cardio up for all that running and jumping he has to do.

He reads Guns & Bullets magazine, but he also reads Science Monthly. Which makes sense that he'd be a bit of a techie since....

...he seems to have made his new Praetor Suit by disassembling the old one and rebuilding it to be higher-quality. You can see from the guts of the suit that it's powered armor, and he just... knows how to work that.

He's mad. Not stupid.

He also reads cooking magazines, of course. His only friend is Doom J.A.R.V.I.S.; He's gotta be self-sufficient. Though how he got those pizzas delivered is certainly beyond me.

And, of course, he has a collection of regular books that he likes to read as well. Though his taste in literature reveals a certain trend.

Also, he reads comics.

So many comics.

So, so many comics that he's left discarded comics lying around on his munitions cases. This man is a nerd.

And if you doubt his nerd cred, remember that he even keeps collectible toy displays. Doomguy is explicitly the kind of person who will go out of his way in a firefight with the forces of Hell itself to go snatch up a new toy for his collection.

He even has collectible toy figures hanging out on his computer desk. He put a little hard hat on one of them.

On the other side of his desk, he's got some leftover pizza from the inexplicable delivery service, plus takoyaki flavor chips and some candy. It seems Doomguy is a fruity candy kind of guy, not a chocolate guy. Man after my own heart.

Oh, you know he has shredded every single surface of the Fortress of Doom at some point. How do you think he learned to react so quickly in combat?

That is, of course....

When he's not ROCKING OUT with one of his three separate guitars. I bet the middle one's his favorite. It has a place of honor under the giant demon skull.

Some people might say that a record player and casette tapes are old-fashioned but cut him some slack; He's a Gen X-er.

Of course, there's one thing that any walk through Doomguy's room reveals more than anything else. The one thing that matters more than the world to him. The thing that drives him in his every waking moment.

He loved his bunny rabbit. My favorite thing about the portrait - Well, my favorite thing about it is that it's a piece of fanart that got officially canonized, but aside from that - is that he's wearing his Praetor Suit in it.

That's not something he brought from home. He commissioned an artist to paint that after becoming a Night Sentinel. He still loves his poor, late bunny rabbit.

And he keeps her close to him when he's home.

[starwrighter]

1/?? Halloween prompt

I’ve got brain rot for creepy Deadserious content but only when it’s only seen as creepy by outsiders. (I know I’m writing a fic with a similar plot but it’s different I swear! Also my grammar is shit because I’m getting dental work done tomorrow and I’m nervous) Tw for stalker behavior

So Damian has a crush on Danny and immediately goes about acting on these feelings much to onlookers horror. Danny is swooning because someone made the effort to do a background check on him. Danny thinks Damian doing this is really smart because, he could be a serial killer for ancients sake why would you risk that? Others say this is a horrible invasion of privacy.

Damian not realizing he's being creepy (being liminal and being an ex assassin, turned vigilante wasn't doing him any favors) Plus Danny also not realizing it's creepy unless you relay Damian behavior towards him with different names.

Damian's just being a textbook stalker, breaking into his house and shit and Danny's all like "awwww he likes me" because this is just normal ghostly courting rituals! His dormroom isn't his lair so Damian breaking in doesn't feel like he's violating any sort of boundary. To him it's like a friend showing up at the coffee shop you work at to say hi.

Danny's had stalkers before, he's very cautious of his behavior to insure he never stalked anyone. Being stalked back in Amity was a horrific experience for him. From cameras in the locker rooms at school (wes) to cameras in his bathroom and bedroom at home (Vlad)! He couldn't feel safe anywhere! To Danny Damian's not a stalker, he's his protector. Nobody seems to understand when he tries to explain this though they just look at him like he's lost his mind.

Damian’s not subtle at all and Danny’s kicking his feet like a lovesick school girl who found out her crush likes her back. Overall it’s super cute from their points of view Damian’s planning an official confession to ask him on a date while Danny’s trying to figure out if Damian actually likes him or is just being nice. They’re just doing normal couple things but people just jump and attack Damian’s character while painting Danny as some kind of brainwashed victim.

The thing is… Danny’s become very good at appearing normal while Damian refuses to pretend to be a bumbling idiot like the rest of his family. He also refuses to dull down his personality for anything other than secret identity reasons. For these reasons since their relationship had become public, Damian had been painted by the media as a creepy possessive boyfriend who threatened Danny into a relationship. This infuriates Danny, the only one doing any kind of possession is him god damn it!

They want to be around each other all the time and that’s normal behavior for ghost/liminal couples! They live much longer than regular humans do they’re like elves, their perceptions of time are messed up. They still spend time apart they still have hobbies and an independent life, people just get hung up on the amount of time they do spend together. It’s normal behavior for them to know mountains of information about each others interests to the point they almost know more than each other. It’s normal to know each other’s schedules and background check the people they associate with. (The realms are very dangerous with shapeshifters and manipulators like spectra and Desiree who can ruin your afterlife in a matter of minutes) Their relationship is creepy to those who haven’t gone to extremes to survive.

Damian has taken to ignoring the reputation press has given him. He’s dealt with paparazzi and tabloids before it’s just frustrating to deal with. It’s when people start accusing him of hurting his beloved that really pisses him off.

(Bonus if Danny’s the one frothing at the mouth to maul a reporter while they try to paint him as a poor innocent victim)

I’mma end the prompt with this so everyone understands why Damian specifically being targeted by press. The more liminal you are the more creepy/uncanny you appear to other people and the more effort you have to put in to hide it. It’s why the bats are more believed to be Eldritch creatures than actual humans in suits. Surprisingly becoming a Halfa completely changes this effect to do the complete opposite. It’s easier for the human brain to look at a halfa and think “Innocent or normal,” Vlad and Danny were morons when it came to actually hiding their identity’s it was only their statuses as halfa’s that prevented people from comprehending them being anything other than normal.

In short Damian’s too dead to be perceived as normal while Danny’s too alive to be perceived as anything other than normal.

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of Charmed Slasher Simon!

Simon really ought to teach you not to look at him like that. Those big watery eyes and pouty lips make his teeth feel too sharp for his own mouth. He wants to sink them into you, find out if you taste as sweet as you look. He knows you would, knows it like he knows the slick heat of fresh viscera.

“What.” he demands, voice hard to keep the rasp of dark desire from it.

“I have a little favor to ask.”

He arches an eyebrow, does not believe you. Not when you’re looking at him so beseechingly. He’ll have to get you to make that face again, maybe when he’s got you on your knees, asking to suck his cock.

“Go on.”

You seem ridiculously, foolishly charmed by this stoic, unimpressed front he puts on for you. A little beam of sunshine refracting off of a black mirror. Wonders sometimes what cruel maker built you so unintentionally self-destructive.

“There’s this work trip coming up…”

He has to cross his arms to keep himself from snatching you up and locking you in the bedroom. Mistaking the gesture, you hurry to continue.

“And I have to go, but! We’re allowed to bring plus ones.”

Satisfaction curls warm in his gut, a purring predator cat. He wants to hear you ask, though.

“I’m not hearing the favor.”

“Riley….” you complain, face adorably embarrassed.

“I’m waiting, luv.”

You damn near stomp your little foot at him. “Will you please come as my plus one?”

He arches his eyebrows. “That’s a big ask.”

You could ask for the stars and moon and he’d make them bleed for you. Paint the sky crimson and make a necklace of the heavens to collar you in.

“I know and I understand if you don’t want to - but… but that coworker you met, Brandon? He’s going too, and he’s been looking at me weird all week. Please, Ri? I-I don’t want to go by myself and you make me feel safe.”

Oh it was a sure thing that he’d be going with you, but now there’s no question. He’s so glad for the video cameras; he going to milk himself dry tonight listening to you say please like that. Admitting that he makes you feel safe. His poor, stupid, fragile thing. It’s a good thing he found you.

“Alright, alright,” he soothes. “No waterworks now. I’ll go with you.”

Like a switch, you light up and throw yourself into his chest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you trill. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, I promise.”

He snorts. You’ve done him the favor by giving him an excuse to follow you - but he’s not about to correct you.

“You let me worry about that. Just send me the details and I’ll be there.”

—

Your job has rented out a ski lodge for this little trip. Not only is it secluded, the booking is for the middle of the week. There will be few, if any, people over than instructors and your coworkers.

He couldn’t plan it better.

The day is spent pretending to care about your coworkers’ names and babysitting you along the slopes. You nearly crack your head open twice, each time he scoops you up, frowning down at your giggly face.

You also nail him in the head with a snowball too. That. That’s he’s going to get revenge for.

When night falls, you squeeze his hand at the door to your room. He leans his palm against the door over your head, relishes in the way you fluster as you tilt your head to look at him.

“Thank you for coming, Riley,” you murmurs. “You’ve made this really fun.”

He lets himself smile at you, just a bit. Knows it’s lopsided and probably a little too sharp, should raise alarm bells in your pretty little head, but you only smile back at him.

“Mm, you’ll have to make it up to me. Doin’ you this big favor ‘n all.”

You laugh. “Yeah? Let me know when you want your pound of flesh.”

Oh he’ll be taking more than a pound.

“Better be ready when I come to collect.”

“Ooh, so scary!” you tease, sticking your tongue out.

“You’ve no idea.”

—

A storm hits that night. A wicked, frigid thing that brews up and boils over in a matter of hours. Whiteout conditions. The power goes out a quarter past 11.

Well, you’ve had your fun. Now it’s time for Simon to have his.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Isn't she pretty? 1870 Victorian in Marengo, IL has 3bds, 1.5ba, $325k.

Light, bright, open entrance hall. I don't even mind that they painted the moldings white, b/c look at the original front door, paneled walls and original floors.

Beautiful keeping room where guests sat to wait for the host to appear.

Lovely light blue sitting room. It's got white woodwork, but it all seems to be there, even the ceiling molding and a small medallion.

It looks like they use this as a TV room. It's so nice when people actually use the house.

This is nice and appears to have an original light fixture. Not sure about the fireplace, though.

The dining room is so pretty. Looks like there're pocket doors, too. I'm wondering if they restored this house, b/c the fireplaces have been replaced by non-working ones.

The kitchen's cute and has a modern/vintage look.

Chef's stove. Look at the lanterns.

There's a vintage sink and a fridge in the pantry.

Isn't this fun? They have an antique penny lock on the powder room door, that was used in a public restroom.

The bedrooms are blank slates. In the primary bd. the panels can be painted a different color or finished with wallpaper. There's a small walk-in closet, too.

Bd. #2 also has a closet.

Bd. 3 is quite large. They're waiting for some beautiful decor and look at the carpet. It's brand new.

The bath has a lovely sink vanity made from an antique piece.

The tub looks so elegant with its gold feet. Nice job.

I don't know why they list 3 bds., b/c here's a nice roomy 4th.

Plus, a 5th. And, they all have closets. Maybe b/c there's only 1 bath?

In the back hall, there's a laundry room under the stairs.

This is lovely. A large screened in porch off the pantry.

There's a small patio and a beautiful garden.

Full 1 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/406-W-Prairie-St-Marengo-IL-60152/5033844_zpid/

[gay-dorito-dust]

HEYYYY

Soo I'm here to rq another Damian x reader(platonic). But real quick, I'm sorry if I'm requesting too much or being a nuisance. Pls lmk if I am so I can stop! It's just hard to find somebody that writes for him like dis.

Anyways, basically the same thing were theyre friends but this time it's a diff scenario. So Damian n reader are obvi friends but theyre also complete oposites. Like Damian is intelegent, focused and meanwhile has reader is a bit dumber, daydreams too much, and kinder. They also get walked over a lot.

So he invites reader over to the manor and she meets his brothers n dad. It's all fine n dandy but they can't help but notice how diff they are.

Bonus points if reader talks positively abt him to his brothers and they're all like "fym he's nice?" And readers all like "fym he isnt?" (They're just not used to being treated like a normal human being) ‼️

Honestly I love writing for platonic! Damian. So pls don’t apologise for anything bc I’m having so much fun rn. 🦦plus I don’t know if this will read well as I’ve written this late at night when o should probably be in bed.

‘Am I seeing things or has Damian finally made a friend.’ Dick whispered to Jason, his eyes unable to tear his eyes away from you and Damian followed Bruce through the manor.

‘Nope, I’m definitely seeing it too.’ Jason replied also looking at you and Damian as if he was looking at the human personifications of night and day.

‘The fact that the demon spawn managed to get a friend sure is…something.’ Tim piped up, having overheard his brothers conversation from standing in between them. ‘I can only hope he didn’t kidnap the poor soul.’ Dick added as he was quick to click onto how Damian kept a hand on your arm, tugging and pulling you along when you stop to stare at a painting in awe for a little too long, gently encouraging you to keep up with him and Bruce by promising to go back to the painting later. Jason then looked over at Tim, ‘any ideas on who they are?’ Tim shrugged. ‘Only the fact that they go to the same school as Damian, share the same art classes and is known for being a little bit of a daydreaming pushover, but despite all that they’re still a kind person.’

Dick smiled sympathetically as his heart ached for you. It wasn’t easy being nice in a city like Gotham, if anything nice ever wandered into the accursed city it seemed as though Gotham itself would stop at nothing to see it destroyed, decimated and become as miserable and as bleak as the city itself; So it was rare to find someone who genuinely could still bring it in themselves to smile whilst in a city like this. And for that Dick had to give you props for being brave enough -and strong enough- to be kind in a place that would gladly take pleasure in stepping over and on you at any inconvenience. For it was truly a sign of bravery at its finest.

‘That kid is sure brave.’ Jason signed, knowing that people like you don’t last in Gotham but it was people like you that Gotham needed the most, but how could a retched place like Gotham heal when it’s always been a rotten city since it’s very conception? He didn’t believe it could be possible but there were always solutions to fighting the problem that seemed impossible to overcome. So who cares if you weren’t the brightest bulb at school? The education system in Gotham was shit anyway the last time he checked and he doubted much had changed when he…well you know…

Tim was silent. He was too busy recognising the protective measures that Damian was taking specifically for you; mainly the hand tugging at your arm anytime he thought you were getting distracted or wandering off elsewhere and muttering about how you need to keep or you’ll get left behind, despite the fact that even if you did Damian would allow himself to fall behind just so that he could walk besides you. While he might be part of the majority that didn’t think he’s ever see the day that Damian brought a friend home, never less a friend who was the total opposite of him. He couldn’t help but feel a sort of relief that Damian finally found a friend, and he knew that both Jason and Dick felt similarly from the looks upon their faces, silently observing how you interact with one another.

The one thing that Tim was confident in was the fact that Damian needed you as much as you needed Damian because you were a beacon of opportunity for his younger brother in many ways that Tim was certain you weren’t made aware of just yet. So while he and his brothers may tease and take this piss about how different you were from Damian, they mean well and express their happiness the only way they knew best; teasing and taking the piss.

‘This library is beautiful Mr Wayne! Do you have any fantasy books?’ You could be heard asking down the hallway, followed by the sound of Bruce softly laughing as he showed you the grand library. ‘This library has any book you can think of and please call me Bruce, it’s not often that Damian brings anyone home for the weekend.’ He says as you looked the Damian confused and a little betrayed. ‘You’ve got friends other than me?’

Damian groaned. ‘No. I don’t, you’re the only friend I’m willing myself to have.’

You smiled and gripped his hand. ‘Aww Dami! That’s so sweet of you to say, despite how brash and blunt you may come across, I’m glad to say that you’re the only friend I’m willing to have too!’ You said without shame. ‘Everyone else isn’t a nice as you are.’ You trailed off while a rare solemn look appeared upon your face as Damian was quick to squeeze your hand reassuringly, Bruce smiled sympathetically. ‘I’m not smart like your son mr Wayne, I can’t help it if things don’t come to me as easy as they do others but I try! I try really heard to do my best at every test but…but people tend to laugh of me because to them I’m either slow or thick.’ Damian’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed upon being remembered of what people tended to call you.

He hated it and whenever he saw it happen, he was quick to utter some threatening words before taking his usual position as your pseudo-bodyguard for the rest of the school day. At first he wasn’t bothered but when you became restless in your pursuit of being his friend, he remembered vividly how people were mocking and making fun of you for trying to be his friend, that he often regrets not accepting your friendship sooner if it meant being able to be there when it counts.

‘When will you get it that Damian doesn’t want to be friends with someone like you.’ One person said.

‘Then I’ll just have to keep trying.’ You rebutted, still smiling somehow.

Another person scoffs. ‘Get fucking real. You’re a weirdo, no one wants to be friends with a weirdo who so fucking slow at everything.’

You merely shrugged, even when someone’s insulting you, your brain doesn’t recognises it as such. ‘I’m sure he won’t mind.’

‘God you’re so fucking useless that I’m surprised that anyone bothers with you. Let me say this in a way you won’t have to try so hard to understand dipshit. Damian. Will. Never. Be. Friends. With. Someone. Like. You. Ever.’ A third slowly spoke and Damian had heard enough and within a blink of an eye had laid them out flat. You blinked before looking at Damian with a bright smile. ‘Hi Damian! Did you hurt these guys, that’s not very nice.’

‘They insulted you and yet you defend their honour.’ Damian asked incredulously as you both walked down the hallway, leaving the three bullies to groan from their injuries. You shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

‘They were insulting you.’ Damian reiterated. ‘They insulted your intelligence and your abilities. People like them often hide bigger insecurities than others.’ Damian replied, finding your ability to keep smiling after such things both annoying as it was admirable.

‘Are we friends now?’ You asked innocently enough and Damian knew he had sealed his fate, and so he sighs and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, we’re…friends.’ He mutters and doesn’t do anything to stop you from dragging him to art class.

‘I was alone before Damian.’ You admitted as you looked at Bruce with a smile as you squeezed Damian’s hand in kind. ‘But now he’s here and he’s my bestest friend ever!’ Damian honestly wishes that you respect yourself more because you could claim that he saved you multiple times, but you’d never acknowledge the times where you have saved him by being unequivocally kind, sweet and over all a better person then all of Gotham’s civilians combined. ‘I was finding my first week at school horrid before I befriended l/n.’ Damian admitted as you softly cooed. The boy then swallows thickly. ‘Their friendship is much appreciated.’

‘Aww! Dami!’ You cried as you crashed into him, causing you both to hit the floor in a heap of limbs.

While Damian was cursing mom lethal threats and you were laughing, Bruce had already made his mind up about you and was certain to make sure to have Damian invite you over as much as possible. It was obvious for him to see that you and Damian were good for each other despite your vast and glaring differences, however that’s what worked in your favour, the power to have over come all odds was incredible; not to mention the fact that your friendship with Damian had lasted as long as it has was another impressive feet on top of that. Bruce knows it’s been hard for Damian to fit in and find a friend, but he couldn’t have made a better friend than he did in the likes of you.

You were more than defiantly welcomed back to the manor if Bruce had anything to say about it.

‘Get off of me!’ Damian shouts.

‘Damian, I think my foot is stuck with yours.’ You reply, scared.

‘That’s your own foot- how did you manage to tangle yourself up in yourself? You landed onto of me?’ Damian asked incredulously.

‘Sorry.’ You apologised.

‘Don’t be.’ Damian said.

Bruce smiled one last time before leaving you both alone in the library to untangle yourselves, only to be greeted by Tim, Dick and Jason. ‘Can I help you three?’ Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boys.

‘Nope.’ Dick started.

‘Not really, just…seeing how the little scamps are dealing.’ Jason followed after.

‘Damian? Nice? The same Damian who tried to, oh I don’t know…KILL ME?!’ Tim asked, revealing to Bruce all he needed to know, their breathing behind the library door was telling that they were clearly eavesdropping on the three of you. Jason and Dick looked at him displeased as Tim looked back at them. ‘I’m not the only one of us who thought that.’ He defended himself. ‘I mean it’s nice that he’s looking out for y/n but still that’s not something someone casually forgets.’

Bruce merely leaves Tim, Dick and Jason to their own quarrel, he loves his boys he truly does, but sometimes they’re more trouble than what they’re worth. He can only hope that they don’t scare you off from coming back for good because he was already planning your next visit.

[gojoux]

『 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: In the middle of your mission, he makes a move on you, until you realize that's not the case.

· CW: 3.8k // Sensitive content (SA). Hurt/comfort. Act of deception.

Please do not proceed if it could trigger you.

“Why are you with me again?” You look at him who is walking casually by your side with his hands in his pockets.

“Why not? I have nothing better to do right now.” Gojo shrugs. “And besides, a second pair of eyes can always come in handy.” He looks at you. “Plus, I can keep an eye on you and keep you safe.” He grins.

“Aww, are you trying to play the prince or something?” You grin back at him, nudging his side with your elbow.

He smirks at your answer. “If the shoe fits.” The sunlight shimmers off of his white hair. A few strands fall into his eyes, making it seem like he’s trying to peek at you.

“So, what's our objective on this mission?” He looks at you. “Any details?”

“I've been informed about a grade 1 cursed spirit between the abandoned buildings.” You answered with your eyes looking forward, analyzing the buildings in this less crowded place.

He listens quietly as you fill him in on your mission. He nods at your words, absorbing the information. He reaches up and scratches his neck lightly, and a smile spreads across his face. “A grade 1 cursed spirit?” He pauses. “They should be no problem to take down.” 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Strongest Sorcerer.” You roll your eyes playfully. He grins at you, “Exactly.”

“A Grade 1 Spirit will be no problem at all. No need for you to worry.” His eyes twinkle in amusement as they meet yours. “We'll finish this mission in no time.”

“I thought this was my mission?” You look at him with a raised brow. “I can handle this by myself, Satoru.”

Your conversation with Gojo is always lighthearted no matter the situation. But you do appreciate his offer, even though you're confident that you can finish this mission yourself, without his help.

“Sure, sure. You could take this cursed spirit down by yourself. But why do that when you could have your best friend with you?” He tilts his head with a chuckle.

“I'm fine on my own.” You brush him off as you feel like you're getting closer to your destination. “Just go buy some ice cream while you wait for me or something.”

Gojo’s lips quirk up. “How about, no?” He glances at you and the side of the road. “No use in fighting me. Unless you’ve got a secret crush on me or something? I mean, who wouldn’t have one?” He gives you a teasingly-wide grin.

“We're here.” You ignore his words as you both stand between the two empty-looking buildings, or it's just not many people who live around here. The dark hallway leads to another wider place way further back. The sunlight could only expose so little.

You take a deep breath before walking forward. He follows you into the dark hallway. He looks around, his head tilting to the side as he takes in the surroundings. “Looks like nobody has stepped foot here in a long time.” He adjusts the glasses on his face.

“Yeah.” You slowly walk further until you see a smaller building at the end of the hallway. ‘Strange.’ You thought to yourself.

The gray building looks like an old abandoned house with peeled-off dry paint and moss sticking on the sides of walls, not to mention it's dusty and smelled unpleasant.

Gojo peers at the old house, his hands in his pockets. He looks around, scanning the area around you for any possible signs of cursed spirits. “Seems... quiet right now.” 

“Are we about to enter a haunted house?” He says casually with his playful grin. “Yes, we are.” There is no door at the entrance, so you just walk in and you look around the dark interior.

He steps inside the house beside you, his eyes taking in every detail of the abandoned house. “This place looks like it hasn’t been used in decades.” He glances at you. “Well then... let’s start hunting for this cursed spirit.” He looks around, his eyes darting.

“I'll take upstairs and you'll take down here, okay?” You say as you step on the stair, ready to go up while you wait for his response.

He nods. “Got it.” His eyes follow you as you walk up the stairs to the second floor of the abandoned house. “I’m sure I’ll be fine down here all by myself,” his voice is laced with sarcasm.

Gojo looks around the first floor as he searches for any traces of a cursed spirit. He checks the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms, and the bathroom. “Man, what a creepy place.” He mumbles to himself.

You check around upstairs, but you find nothing but old, unused stuff covered in dust.

You found interest in a particular room at the end of the corridor. You check inside the room for a while, analyzing your surrounding as you try to sense anything in your surroundings.

“Found anything yet?”

You jumped back at the sound coming by the door before you let out a shaky exhale of relief. “Oh, it's just you.”

You didn't sense his cursed energy, probably too busy looking for a cursed spirit or any residue. 

Gojo chuckles as he hears you speak. He leans against the door, a cocky smile on his face. "Yeah, it's just me. You look like you're scared of this old abandoned house." 

“I'm not.” You mumble. Gojo walks towards you. His footsteps are eerily silent. He pauses, glancing at you. “What? Lost your senses, hmm?” He crosses his arms and tilts his head.

His eyes fall on the dark corners of the room, on the objects inside. He notices the old abandoned chair on the far side of the room. “Did something scare you? Scared of the boogeyman?” He smirks.

“I'm not scared. Just caught off-guard, that's all.” You continue to check around the big room.

His smirk widens. “Right, right. I thought you’d be more jumpy.” He lets out a small chuckle. “You sure are more relaxed than usual. You should be more vigilant.” He crosses his arms again.

Gojo’s eyes glance at you, a smile creeping across his lips. “So, you wanna tell me what you found there?” He gestures towards the room behind you, still keeping his attention on you. “Not much. Just some old stuff.” You answer, not looking at him.

Then, Gojo’s arms wrap around your waist in a surprise hug. “Boo~” He whispers, his lips grazing your ear. “Did I scare you?” He leans in closer, his voice whispering softly. He bites your ear lobe teasingly.

“S-Satoru!” You got startled this time, more like from his sudden gesture, and you feel tingly when you feel his lips on your earlobe.

His smirk widens as he hears your startled reaction. He presses himself closer to you, his arms squeezing you tightly. He whispers in your ear. “You’ve got such a cute scream.” He chuckles. “I swear, your reactions are so cute.”

“What are you doing?” Your heart is beating fast from the closeness of your body, the feeling of your ridiculously handsome best friend's body against yours. How can you not be flustered?

His lips form a smug grin. “Just teasing my favorite person right now.” He pauses briefly. “Are... you nervous?” His gaze is locked into yours while his arms are still wrapped around your waist.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You pull yourself away from his embrace and turn to face him, trying to play it off with a nonchalant attitude. “Really, what are you doing, hm?” 

He chuckles, noticing how flustered you look despite you trying to hide it. “I’m teasing you with physical touch.” He smirks and steps closer to you. He leans his head towards you until your forehead is almost touching and his fingertips holding onto your chin.

“Would you like some more teasing?” Your flustered face is an endearing sight for his eyes. His eyes dart back and forth between you and your lips. His thumb caresses your lips softly. 

“I’m actually... in love with you.” He whispers. He pauses for a moment as he takes in every detail of your face. “I’ve liked you... No, I’ve loved you since we met. I’ve kept my feelings hidden for a long time because of how I thought you’d react.” He leans in, his fingertips gently caressing your cheek. His eyes never leave yours.

You were stunned by his sudden confession, can't believe that your best friend just said those words to you. “You're just joking, right...? This is not funny.” You shake your head to shake the thoughts off as you pull your face back from his.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction. “No, no, it’s true. I'm in love with you.” He raises one of his eyebrows as you look away from him. His eyes follow yours, trying to grab your gaze. “Look at me. I want you to listen and realize how much I meant what I said.” He pauses before continuing. “Don’t dismiss my feelings. I mean it.”

“Is it that difficult to believe that your best friend for years now, has a crush on you?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb gently. “I like you as more than just a friend. Why don't you believe me?” His words end in a whisper.

Again, you shake your head at his confession. “Don't joke with my feelings like that... Is not funny.” You frown at him as you back away from his touch.

“I'm not joking.” He replies. “I swear to you that I'm serious.” He reaches out and grabs your wrist. “Don't push me away so soon. How can you say no to me after all we've been through together?” He shifts closer to you again and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his eyes.

“Let's get back to our mission, shall we?” You chuckle awkwardly to change the subject. But he doesn't let go of your wrist. “(Y/N), please.” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “I've just opened up to you. You can't be serious about rejecting me.” He frowns a little. “Do you really think I'm joking?”

“I mean, you joke a lot.” You shrug, not knowing what to say in this sudden situation. “And why would you even confess like this? We're on a mission, you know, get serious.” You brush him off as you continue to wander around the room.

He grabs your wrist again, pulls you back, and turns you to face him. His voice is now serious. “You are not walking away from me yet.” His grip tightens once again.

“Look at me.” He pulls you closer to him, his breath heavy against your skin. He looks you over from head to toe, his other hand resting on your waist. “My words might not mean much to you, but my touch certainly does.” He leans down until your faces are just inches apart. 

“What?” You look at him in surprise at his sudden change of demeanor. You know that he does get quite aggressive sometimes, but he doesn't really do it to you like this.

He moves his hand away from your waist, placing it on your cheek and stroking your neck. “Come on, (Y/N). Your heart is beating at double speed, and your breath is slightly ragged.” He leans in again, his touch becoming a little firmer on your face. “Just this once, let me take what's mine.”

“Hey, hey, what do you mean ‘what's yours’?” You pull yourself away from his grasp again. By now, you're already freaked out from how odd he's behaving.

He puts himself in front of you again, and once more, places his hands on your waist. “I want to kiss you, (Y/N). I want to taste you.” His fingers move to the hem of your uniform jacket. “Let me love you.”

“Enough!” You swat his hand away from your jacket. He holds you back against your arms, firmly trying to bring you close once more. “There's something special between you and me. We can do this here.” He whispers to you. “No one will know.”

“Satoru. Enough with this nonsense. And take your hands away from me.” You glare at him this time, your tone is serious. But he doesn't budge when you tell him to take his hands away.

“No.” He lets out a harsh breath. “I've been trying to show you my feelings so you'll understand. I want you. All of you.”

A smirk creeps its way across his face. “Or would you prefer I tear all of your clothes off and take you right here?” He presses his body closer to you once again.

You widen your eyes in disbelief at his words. Is this the Gojo Satoru you know?

“You're unbelievable...” You feel tears gathering in your eyes. “Oh, is it?” His voice is filled with amusement with your reaction. He slowly reaches out and tilts your head up once more, his fingers stroking your cheeks.

“You're so easy, you know that?” He smiles. “Maybe I should just tear you out of your clothes right now... But I'll be gentle with you if you want.” He lowers his voice now, smiling seductively. “Just let me have you, (Y/N).”

“No.” You shake your head, trying to get off from his grasp. He lets out a groan, growing frustrated as you continue to reject him. His hands grab your arms now, and you notice his expression darkens.

“I'm done asking.” He whispers. “I'm going to take you now.” He leans in towards you, and his breath becomes hot as your face is almost touching. “Say you're mine.” He demands. “If you don't listen, I'll just have to take what's mine with force.”

Your heart beats faster, this time not from being flustered by him, but rather from fear. “Are you... trying to attempt something?!”

You really don't see the playful and carefree Gojo Satoru now.

“I'm not attempting anything, (Y/N).” He becomes more serious. “This is me taking what's mine.” He pauses for a minute, his thumb slowly tracing across your lips once again. He closes the gap between his lips and your neck to lick your skin. “Say yes. Or I'll make you say yes.”

You shake your head again, feeling helpless by now. You feel weak, not as a sorcerer, but as a human. You're alone in this secluded place with someone you trust, yet he turns out to be like this.

“No... I don't want it... I don't want this...” You look at him in disbelief and disappointment.

His finger is still softly stroking your bottom lip. “I can be gentle with you...” The tone of his voice changes back to seductive once again. “Please, let me take you.” He bites down on his lip, his other hand slowly moving up and down your thigh. “You know that you want me to touch you.”

“Stop! Stop!” You yell at him before pushing him away with the remaining of your strength and running out of the room.

You bump into someone once you almost reach the stairs until you fall on your ass. And when you look up, much more to your shock, you see him.

“Satoru...?” You feel like your breath is being sucked out of your lungs. “Wait, what...? But you- you were...” You look at him back and forth between the man in front of you and the room you just ran off from.

He immediately kneels down to your level in concern. “Hey, hey, are you—” but he cuts himself off when he realizes that you're backing away from him. “— okay...?”

Gojo stares at you for a moment as you look at him with so much fear. “Why are you scared?” He tilts his head, his expression is filled with concern. 

He slowly moves towards you once again, his hands up in the air as he shows you that he isn't planning on touching you. “It's me. I'm not going to harm you.”

He's focused on you, and he's genuinely concerned and confused about why you're acting like this. You were just fine a while ago.

You shake your head, refusing to be touched by him. “No... You're... Inside the room...”

“What is it, (Y/N)? Talk to me, please.” His voice is soft, he doesn't want to push you further to the edge like you already are.

He's also careful to not move too close to you, not wanting to push you away in fear. He remains calm, although you can see that his hands slightly shake when his hand stops midway reaching you.

“Y-yo-you are Satoru, right...?” Your breathing is ragged while you look at him closely.

“Yes, (Y/N). It's me, Satoru.” Gojo's voice stays calm as he speaks to you. He watches you nervously, hoping that you don't see him as a threat now.

”But... you were there...” You look back towards the room far behind you. His expression becomes concerned once more. “What did you see? I was downstairs the entire time.” He tries to reach out more to you but hesitates once he sees how scared you still are.

He pulls his hand back and his fingers fiddle with his sleeves as he speaks, his mind racing with thoughts. Are you scared of him? How does he convince you that it's actually him? 

Then, his Six Eyes caught something from the way you came running from. The end of the corridor. “Wait here, okay? I will be quick.”

He stands up and walks towards the room you were in before. You rest your back against the wall, trying to calm yourself down and process what just happened.

And before you knew it, he came back and sat in front of you with his legs crossed. “(Y/N)...” He calls out your name softly, he tilts his head to meet your gaze better.

“I'm going to explain to you real quick, okay?” He talks to you carefully, his fingers nibbling his sleeves once more. “You were inside the cursed spirit's domain. In that room, which I guess is where you came from earlier.”

Your confusion lasts only a moment before you realize that you were talking to a cursed spirit that had pretended to be Gojo.

That was the cursed spirit you're supposed to exorcise yet you were caught in its trap without realizing it. Who knows what could have happened if Gojo didn't come with you in the first place.

He takes a short breath before he continues. “I think you saw something, right...? Whatever it is, it's not real.”

Your gaze shifts from the floor to him. “You...” Your voice is quiet and still shaky. “I saw you.” 

He looks at you in silence for a moment. “Me?” He asks, wanting you to repeat to make sure he's hearing your words right.

“You were... there... trying to...” You don't even want to finish your words. You don't want to be reminded of what could have happened if you didn't gather yourself that time to push fake Gojo and run away.

“Trying to what?” His voice is calm and quiet, but he can't help but notice how she still won't make any eye contact with him. 

His eyes silently scan you, searching for any wounds. His eyes then linger on your damp cheeks and the expression of fear on your face.

He moves his hands away from his sleeves and places them together in front of him, hoping that he'll be able to convince you. “Are you... scared of me?” His tone seems to shift into sadness when you don't answer him, guessing what could possibly be the problem that made you like this.

“You were touching me... and...” You can't continue the rest as you look away from him.

“Was I doing... what I think it is?” Gojo seems caught off guard when you describe the situation. His face darkens when he realizes what he must seem like to you. “(Y/N), I would never do anything like that.” You can see that he's genuinely worried about losing you now. “You have to trust me... I would never betray your trust like that. Just look at me. It's me.”

You shake your head while avoiding looking at him. You just want to shake the thoughts off, and seeing his face reminds you of what happened back then.

“But it is me, (Y/N).” His voice grows quieter as he speaks. “Do I really seem like that kind of man? I know that I've teased you and said some inappropriate things, but I would never force myself onto you.”

His words may be filled with emotion, but his eyes remain filled with genuine worry as he watches you avoid his gaze. 

He scoots closer to close the gap between the two of you, grasping your hand as he speaks. “Please, look at me? Just give me a chance so that you can trust me.” His words are filled with desperation now. “That's all I ask.”

His voice becomes a whisper as he speaks, his hands shaking, “Please, don't be scared of me.”

You finally look up to meet his gaze. He is rarely this soft. You realized that the fake Gojo back then lacked the warmth that this Gojo has, and you can feel it when he grabs your hand and how he speaks to you. 

“Can you... comfort me?” You ask quietly, letting yourself be vulnerable in his presence. “Please?”

“You want comfort?” He smiles softly, his grip on your hand tightening as he speaks. “Then let me give it to you.”

He pulls you closer to him, placing your head against his chest so that you're able to hear his heartbeat. “That's my heart, (Y/N)... It beats for you and you alone.”

He lowers his voice once again, wanting you to be able to hear him clearly. “Whatever you experienced earlier, that would never be me. I promise I'll never hurt you."

“I was so scared...” Your body is slumped in his embrace.

“Shh… don’t be scared anymore.” Gojo strokes your hair gently, rubbing comforting circles on your head as you rest against him. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispers into your ear. “You’re safe with me.” His words are quiet and soothing as he keeps holding you close. “Just let me hold you until you feel better,” he whispers.

“I didn't expect anything like that to happen in my mission…” You murmur. “I'm glad that I didn't shoo you away to eat ice cream.” You try to lighten up your own mood.

He laughs softly, his head moving to the side to look down at you. “You're right.” His voice is soft as he continues to cradle you in his arms. “It’s over now.” His tone is once again calm and soothing, hoping that you’ll be able to relax against his chest.

He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, but only does so for a moment before he stops. “Keep leaning on me. Just rest in my arms for now. We'll talk whenever you're ready.”

He kisses your forehead before resting his head against yours. He’s already thinking about how should he confess to you, and promise to himself that he’ll keep you safe.

He's thinking of an ice cream date, actually. But for now, he’s content in giving you the comfort you needed.

“I’ll take care of you.”

[lady-griffin]

Did Ekko Make Jinx’s Prosthetic Finger?

I’m curious what other people think, but I don’t think Jinx made her prosthetic finger. The only thing about it that screams JINX to me is the painted smiley face. That’s it.

It’s far too practical and simple of a design to be made by Jinx; seriously, if you remove the smiley face, you wouldn’t be able to tell this was her finger.

By comparison - Fishbones was a complete and total surprise to me when I first watched Arcane and yet I didn't question his existence for a single second; because of course Jinx made a giant shark bazooka. That makes perfect sense given everything we know about her.

With this finger though, I’m like... maybe she made it under these specific circumstances, but even then, I doubt it, because she’s so committed to her aesthetic.

She consistently goes all out, even when there's no reason to.

She individually painted each of her moth bombs, you know the things designed for the sole purpose of exploding. And yet, I'm supposed to believe she made her own finger and only drew a smiley face on it?! Really?!

Are we sure we’re talking about Jinx?

Jinx’s two guns from S1 are her most practical and aesthetically simple designs and even they have more flourish, I mean one’s pink for fuck’s sake.

So, if Jinx didn’t make her own finger, then who did?

Ekko!!

He's the only one who makes sense to me.

Now maybe this is just my delusional Timebomb wishing heart, it's certainly a possibility, but looking over the Firelights’ hoverboards, accessories, and home, Jinx’s prosthetic finger doesn’t look out of place.

There’s no perfect match to Jinx's finger; but overall, the design itself, plus the color and the specific way the metal looks worn and is clearly repurposed – looks very Ekko/Firelights to me.

To be clear, beaten up or repurposed anything (especially metal) is not an Ekko only thing, not by a long shot, as it’s found throughout Zaun.

It is Zaun.

Still, the way Ekko and Jinx’s aesthetics come through their designs and inventions, usually makes them very identifiable and this finger looks far more like Ekko, than it does Jinx. Even the color says Ekko to me.

Neither one exclusively uses a single color/type of metal, but Jinx tends to favor metals that are grey, while Ekko favors more bronze or coppery colored metals - like Jinx's finger.

The color is by no means a smoking gun, it’s just this bit of extra oddness.

It already felt super odd the design is so simple and practical but on top of that - she also didn't opt for her usual grey metals? Even in the smallest of details, this finger doesn’t feel like Jinx; and Arcane is so specific and detail oriented with its designs.

Now, obviously Ekko is not the only other inventor in Zaun, but I can't see Jinx using something just anyone made, let alone a new body part. Maybe she would for practicality’s sake, but as soon as she could, she would either customize it to her own aesthetic or just make her own.

She's so specific and intentional with her everything, so why would she make an exception for her new finger; something that's going to be attached to her body and used by her for a decently long time.

The fact this design seems to be Jinx's permanent new finger makes me assume whoever made it, did a good enough job that it met Jinx’s standards and they're important enough to her she was content to just draw a cute little smiley face on it and nothing more.

And right now, I only see Ekko being that person.

Also, I just think it would be really cute and sweet. Seriously, think about it –

Jinx: Look at what my boyfriend made me! *Gives you the middle finger*

[tb3ih]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS, fushiguro megumi.

[ CLASSMATE!megumi has you wishing for more than the night... ]

⨳ cw: smut, 18+ (mdni), alcohol consumption, university jjk parallel, cunnilingus, pussy-drunk!megumi, creampie, use of 'sweetheart', fem!reader.

fushiguro megumi is all bite no bark. he is a silent killer, stealing hearts from across the crowded club floor and sneaking out the back doors. he's got a face of porcelain and inky black locks that you find only extend his encapsulating aura if you manage to slip past the grasp of those beautiful jade irises.

rarely smiles and never manages to sustain his interest for more than a minute, you find yourself only a little surprised to see him sitting quietly in one of the club booths, his friends laughing over booze while he sits wordlessly holding a cup of something expensive.

you know him from some of your classes at university, though you hardly had the time to consider who he was. after all; being a scholarship student meant you spared no time for silly little pleasantries. it was only now--with graduation around the corner and all your exams done--did you allow yourself to unwind.

and he was the type of guy you promised to steer clear of--the inconsiderate kind to wear maison margiela to reel you in and leave you wondering why you even let him the next morning in his empty bedsheets.

so you're at the bar, shooting something that burns all the way down your throat before you let your heel-clad feet carry you to the sea of people on the floor. the bass of the music is booming and you let the your limbs flow with the rhythm you seem to swim in.

it's hot, crowded, and claustrophobic, but you've never felt more free.

"any room for a plus one?" when you turn to follow the sound of his voice, megumi stands close to you, the lights of the club dancing across the planes of his face.

you scoff, eyes falling down to the see that the tips of his fingers ghost at your waist.

he's waiting for an invitation.

so you carry your eyes back up to meet his gaze. "that depends," you reply, "if you can keep up."

and you never thought yourself much of a dancer, but something in the way his lips pull with the faintest bit of amusement and the weight of his hands when they do settle on the small of your back has you wanting nothing more than to fall into this unspoken tango between the two of you.

so you do.

and maybe when you feel the burning in your throat you blame it on the empty brandy bottle on your apartment floor because it never be the way his lips dance across your neck as you sit on the cold marble of your kitchen counter. your fingers find his collar, popping the expensive buttons and relishing the way the clinking sound they make bouncing across the tile of your kitchen.

you hear him laugh lowly against your jugular, muttering something about how you're the first to ever ruin such an expensive shirt. you only laugh in reply, telling him to shut up as you practically tear the material off of him, eyes raking over the way the contours of his chest and shoulders are painted in the moonlight of your kitchen. and in a flash, your poor dress is next, the cool of the air causing a sigh to escape your lips as the zipper comes undone and the fabric is discarded somewhere in the room.

his strong hands are pressing against your thighs, his force slow yet strong as he opens you up like a book. his lips find yours once more and you think you like the way he groans when you sink your incisors into the flesh of his bottom lip.

"fuck," he breathes, hands moving to grip under your thighs to pull you to the edge of the counter. "i could devour you and it'd never be enough."

and the two of you are a mess. half muttered curses and moans fall from your lips as he traces a path from your collarbones through the plain of your chest and down your abdomen. you feel the way his voice whispers promises into your skin as he unfurls you like silk on the marble counter, the occasional groan leaving his lips when his ears catch the way you call his name.

"may i?" you almost don't hear it because he's whispering it, eyes on the damp patch on your panties.

you take a second to catch your breath, "what?"

his thumb applies pressure to your clothed entrance, your walls quivering just slightly at the contact in a way that has you embarrassed. your body betrays you the way it craves the man before you.

megumi's gaze comes to meet yours, somehow repeating the question silently. you nod, "yes, please, anything..."

and that's all he needs before he's hooking a deft finger into the hem of your panties, discarding it over his shoulder like every boundary and shred of self-respect you thought you had when the night started in that crowded club.

two fingers prod at your entrance, and you can't help the arch that forms in your back when he does finally push in, relieve the aching in your core that has you breathless. "god, you're fuckin' beautiful..."

his mouth is parted, eyes hazy as they watch the way you cover his fingers in arousal. from the tone of your whines to the way your body reacts to his touch has something feral clicking in his head and he can't help himself when he finally brings his mouth down to your aching pussy. "holy shit."

he's tongue and lips on your aching core. he eats, you think, like a man starved. and you think to thank all the girls before you because he's got you mewling his name and your mind going blank with pleasure. you feel the familiar pull in your stomach, the occasional bump of his nose against your swollen clit bringing you closer and closer to your high, and you fear you might just like the way his edging makes the corners of your vision burn.

"hey," he mumbles against you, and you feel him pause, the loss of contact causing you to find his expression from between your legs in the dim light of the room. "it's not too late to stop, you know."

megumi's voice is soft and you like the way his words fall from his tongue to settle in your ears. "no i'm okay, really..." there is a clinking of metal, probably the buckle of his belt as it hits the floor of the kitchen and you hear his zipper follow.

he is no longer below you but above you, pushing you to lay back on the cool of the counter. there's something warm pressing to your exposed core and you're not quite processing things until his hand comes hold your face ever so gently.

"focus, sweetheart," he says, though from the look in his eyes and the way he sucks in a ragged breath, you think he's trying to will himself to do the same.

so you let your eyes drink him in, from the outline of his tousled hair, the jade of his eyes, and the heaving of his chest. he still has hand holding your face and you shift your head to bring your lips to his fingers, pressing gently.

"please?"

and that breathless whisper is all he needs before slamming his hips against yours, filling you till all the breath's escaped your lungs and your vision hasn't even the room for stars to fill it.

it's all so strange to you; the way his eyes trace over where your bodies connect, a nearly amorous glint in those beautiful jade irises. his pace is fast yet sure, and you're not so intoxicated by him that you don't catch the way his thumbs rub lightly over where his grip had been bruising only moments ago.

think nothing of it, you repeat in your mind every time you think his kisses on your neck linger a bit too long or the way his tone seems to rouse your heart when he's muttering how good this feels, how good you feel.

you know he's close when you feel the stuttering of his pace, the lilt of his voice getting desperate as he continues. his hand is back on your clit, applying a delicious amount of pressure that has you gasping his name again and again and again.

"ah ah," he coos, his free hand releasing your hip to frame your face, jade eyes alight with something more than amusement when you have no choice but to meet his gaze. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, i wanna know how you feel," he says.

and you can feel your own climax coming closer, his pace slowing but his thumb working simultaneous at your bundle of nerves. your stomach is tight and you think you might scream but he's got his lips against yours in an instant, your thighs locked tightly around his hips as he makes a final thrust, pouring warmth into you as finish with him. back arched and stomach pressed against his chest, you're both chasing the oxygen you find from each other, letting the rest of your high settle yet making no move to separate.

"'m sorry about that," megumi mumbles against your lips, eyes looking falling to where the two of you are still connected, "i forgot to ask if that was alright..."

you blink at him, something light bubbling in your stomach until it breaks a smile across your swollen lips and rings out as laughter. his expression is genuinely perplexed and you take a moment to gather yourself, tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes. "you... just had me on my kitchen counter," you start, "and you're apologizing for finishing inside without asking first?"

his face contorts into a scowl, rose dusting his cheeks a little. he ducks his head, lips meeting your neck before muttering a small "yeah". his eyes are a little bashful when they meet yours again and you're surprised by the vulnerability in the way he's looking at you. "...felt like heaven..."

your hands hold his face and you chuckle, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks to reassure him that it was alright for him to do that. "but uhm," you say, clearing your throat a little, "could we move somewhere a little more comfortable? i think you might break my spine if we go another round on the counter..."

his lips curl and you don't know if you've prepared yourself spiritually for the way his eyes hold a mischievous glint in them. "thought you'd never ask, sweetheart," he replies, shifting his face to press a chaste kiss against the palm of your hand before lifting you off the counter effortlessly.

fushiguro megumi was the kind of man you couldn't hold expectations for; but here, in the dim atmosphere of your apartment, you find yourself letting his lips against your skin settle like a promise, hoping more than anything that your heart won't be hurting when the sun comes to replace the moon in sky.

after all, nothing could be more desirable than when it is illicit.

© tb3ih mmxxiv all rights reserved.

[dreaming-medium]

White Nail Polish

Pairing: I.N x reader

Genre: pure fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Every Sunday when Yang Jeongin comes home to your shared apartment, there you’ll be, in your corner seat on the couch, painting your nails the same white color. But today, when he steps inside, you’re not there.

——————————————————————-

You always painted your nails yourself.

“It’s easier!” You would tell Jeongin with a bubbly smile. “Plus, it’s so nice to take some time to pamper myself. And I get to save money.”

It was a simple tradition he’s come to look forward to.

Every Sunday, when Jeongin walked in the door to your shared apartment and the smell of acetone smacked him in the face, he would always smile.

There you would be, on your designated corner seat on the couch, in your coziest, oversized hoodie, a fresh clay face mask on your face with your hair held back by a fuzzy headband.

The same fuzzy headband he stuck in your Christmas stocking last year.

You’d only just be finishing taking the last coat off your nails by the time he got home.

Without fail, Jeongin would walk in and immediately open the window to air out the chemical smell. He would then lecture you about fumes and how dangerous it was to be inhaling them.

Then, you would giggle and ask him to sit with you. He would do so without any fuss and a happy tingle in his chest.

Both of you would talk and watch TV until it was time for bed.

Sundays were his new favorite days.

The roommate line of your relationship was quickly crossed with how you were as a person, your overly friendly nature couldn’t keep you apart for long. After living together for two years now, Jeongin would easily proclaim you as one of his best friends.

His life was always changing, nothing was ever the same; nothing except for you and your white nail polish.

So, when he opened the door and was met with only the smell of a burning candle, Jeongin frowned.

The living room was dark. The TV wasn’t on. The entire apartment was standing still.

Not even a fresh pot of coffee was sitting on the counter.

You were home, though. Your shoes were by the door and your keys were hanging on the hook.

Never once have you missed a ‘Self Care Sunday’ as you coined them.

Even when you had the flu, you made sure to paint your pretty nails.

The door shut behind him, the click of the lock was as hollow as the apartment felt.

Jeongin kicked his shoes off and made his way down the hall, tossing his bag in his room before walking across the hall to stand in front of your closed door. The soft glow of your fairy lights shined from the crack underneath the wood.

There’s soft sounds coming from inside, it sounds like you’re watching videos on your phone.

He knocks a few times, you hum for him to come in.

Jeongin pushes the door open gently, his head peeking in first before his body.

You’re a lump of blankets on top of the bed. If he looked quickly, he might not have realized that it was you underneath all the blankets and pillows.

“Y/N?” he asks quietly, stepping inside slowly.

Your eyes look at him, they seem… dull. When you see his face, you lock your phone and place it down on your bed.

Again, you only hum.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asks. Jeongin walks towards the bed and sits on the edge. “You’ve never missed a Sunday before.”

You shrug— or at least, he thinks it’s a shrug, all Jeongin’s able to see is the lump of blankets move around.

His eyebrows pull together and he purses his lip. “What’s going on?”

You look away from him. “Just… life weighing down extra today. Exams, job, finding an internship, life, everything.”

Every day you were bubbly. Not a moment went by where you didn’t have a varying degree of a smile on your face. Some people had a resting bitch face, you had a resting happy face.

The corners of your lips were perpetually upturned.

Seeing you now, like this, a sad lump of fleece, pulled at Jeongin’s heartstrings.

You reach one hand out from under the blankets and place it gently on top of his. “Sorry for being all meh,” you huff a humorless laugh through your nose. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. I think I need to be a bedbug today.”

Jeongin thinks for a moment, he looks around your room to your desk. Everything that you usually use on Sundays is there on top.

He flips his hand around and picks yours up, bringing it closer to his face. Cocking his head to the side, he peers down at your nails, making sure to exaggerate how much he’s judging the chipped polish.

“No, no,” he says, clicking his tongue. “This won’t do at all.”

“Jeongin—“

“Nope, look at this.” He holds your hand up for you to see. “How unprofessional. We have to take care of this.”

You roll your eyes. And it doesn’t slip past Jeongin’s watchful eye that your lips twitch in a smile.

“I just don’t feel like it right now,” you whine.

“That’s fine, I’ll do it.”

Jeongin pulls on your arm to yank you out of the blanket pile.

You blink a few times and allow him to sit you up on the bed. A large, stretched out t-shirt hung off your shoulder, your hair sticks up in different directions.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes.

“I’ll paint your nails, come on. Free of charge.”

Jeongin stands up from the bed and holds his hand out for you. You just blink at him over and over.

“You’re going to paint my nails?” The question ends with an incredulous laugh.

Rolling his eyes, Jeongin thrusts his hand out for you to take again. “Yes, I’m going to paint your nails, what’s so odd about that?”

“Have you ever painted your nails before?”

“No, but I watch you do it every week. How hard could it be?”

Your face scrunches up but a small twinkle returns to your eyes. It doesn’t slip past Jeongin.

Deciding that you’re taking too long, Jeongin leans down and picks you up over his shoulder.

A loud squeal comes from your throat that dissolves into giggles. His heart lights up at the sound— it always has.

Even on his worst days, hearing your laughter was like sitting in front of a fireplace during a snowstorm. When he’s sick, he swears he doesn’t need medicine, he just needs to sit near you.

He can still remember one night where he was at his wit’s end, everything that could go wrong, did. He was so overstimulated and angry at everything that he could scream and cry at the same time.

But then, your laughter pierced through the gray clouds of his mind. Your fit of giggles traveled through your door and into his room, they were so muffled but uncontrolled.

Slowly, they dissolved into cackles. Breathless wheezes and snorts that made him smile without knowing what you’re looking at.

You had one of those laughs that was so contagious, especially to him.

There was a bit of shuffling, a door opened, and then you came through his with one of the happiest smiles he’s ever seen. Tears coming down your red face from laughing so hard.

“You have to see this!” you wheezed out.

What was it? A video of a duck sitting on top of a water park geyser, when the water jet activated, the duck went flying.

It wasn’t even that funny. But hearing your angelic laughter made it hilarious.

Suddenly, his day wasn’t so bad anymore. He couldn’t even remember what he was mad about.

That’s the friendship you both have always carried on with.

A shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, an arm to grab when you’re laughing too hard, an extra coffee to bring home, a constant reminder to refill the Brita. It gets deeper and deeper every day.

Jeongin unceremoniously plops you into your corner seat and you let out an ‘ooof!’

He points down at your face. “Stay.”

“I’m not a dog!” You laugh nonetheless while Jeongin’s lithe form disappears down the hallway again.

You look down at your nails. They desperately needed to be done. After studying for hours on end while chewing on your nails, typing on your laptop, and picking nervously at them, there’s barely any polish left.

Truly, you were just going to wait until tomorrow— but if Jeongin was offering, who were you to turn it down?

He comes back out into the living room with everything you typically used. You honestly never noticed how much he paid attention to your pampering.

Setting everything down on the table, he sits cross legged on the seat next to yours and clicks the TV on. A random Christmas movie plays in the background.

He grabs the remover and a cotton pad and goes to work. All the motions look so natural after he grabs your first hand; like he’s the one that does this every Sunday, not you.

The two of you are facing one another, knees practically touching. He’s so gentle when he works.

The chemical burning smell of acetone makes him scrunch his nose up.

“Aren’t you going to open the windows?” you tease.

He grins. “In a minute. The smell has to permeate the house first.”

“And here I thought you hated the smell.”

“I do,” he wipes off polish and goes to the next finger. “But it’s just … something that’s grown on me.”

“Acetone?”

“Yeah,” he snorts. “Strangely enough. I hate it, but I love it.”

He switches to the next hand.

The Christmas movie continues to play, it’s a classic one with Korean translated subtitles at the bottom of the screen. It’s weird hearing English come out of the TV.

Jeongin’s been trying extra hard with English since you moved in. With you being from America, it was like having a live-in tutor.

“I … need remote, please.” He asked in a slow, calculated tone.

“You need the remote,” you corrected him, holding it out of his reach.

“I need the remote.”

“Why?”

“Change channel.”

“Change the channel.”

“Oh my god.”

Your attention goes back to Jeongin. He’s wiping the last of the nail polish off your fingers.

He’s been your rock these last two years. And you’ve been his.

Neither of you really enjoy having emotional conversations or talking about your feelings, you both prefer to stay quiet about it. But that doesn’t mean you don’t need some form of support.

That’s how you two work out so well. When one needs help, the other is there with jokes or food or a movie ready to watch.

Or in this case, nail polish ready to be applied.

With a huff, he stands up from the couch and pushes open one of the windows. He fans his hand in front of his face just to be extra dramatic.

Rolling your eyes, you poke him in the side when he sits back down on the couch.

You were expecting him to put the paint on right away afterwards, so imagine your surprise when he picks up the small pair of clippers.

With a raised eyebrow, you take your hand away a little. His grip tightens and his head snaps up to look at you with a mock-offended expression.

“Nuh-uh!” you tease. “You’re gunna give me man nails!”

“I will not!” he jests back. “I will clip your nails exactly how you usually do it!”

Your eyes narrow, he mirrors it.

You jut out your bottom lip, he mirrors it.

You slowly turn your head to the side to side-eye him, he mirrors it.

“I'm trusting you, Yang Jeongin. Christmas is next week. I don’t want man hands.”

He scoffs and looks back down at your hand. “I have rough news, Y/N.”

You balk and rip your hand away from him and then usher a swift smack to his bicep.

The two of you giggle the more you smack him around playfully.

“I do not have man hands!” you yell.

He laughs with you, holding his arms up to shield himself. “Okay, okay! Fine! You have beautiful womanly hands! Enough!”

You stop smacking him. “That’s more like it.”

With that adorable smile, Jeongin reaches forward and grabs your hand once again.

“One set of ridiculously short nails coming up.”

“I’ll poison your coffee tomorrow.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, Yang.”

He snickers once more and then starts cutting your nails in small, little snips.

Jeongin just trims them a bit— he does a perfect job if you’re being completely honest. You preferred them a little longer anyway.

When he picks the nail file up, you’re less wary.

He files your nails down a little more, rounding off the edges just how you like.

“How was rehearsal?” you ask quietly.

“Are we gossiping now? Is this what it’s like getting your nails done at a salon?”

You chuckle. “Yes, now tell me all about it.”

“It was good, I had vocal training after, so it was a long day.”

“What does your day look like tomorrow?”

“Nothing tomorrow. But Tuesday we leave for Japan until Thursday.”

You hum, watching him file your nails. “Nervous?”

“Always. It’s never gone away.”

You giggle. “I think if you weren’t nervous, you would have too big of a head.”

“Or I would be Minho.”

Then, simultaneously, you both go: “Same thing.” And then break into a fit of laughter.

He files your one pinky finger and looks down at both of your hands at once.

“How’s that shape look?”

You bring them up closer for you to look at. They all look even and perfect.

How is he doing this?

“I think you should open a salon,” you tell him, still inspecting your nails.

“Ah, yes, let me abandon my idol lifestyle to be a nail tech.”

Jeongin grabs your one hand and files a little notch off that you didn’t see.

Again, you giggle.

He puts the nail file down and picks up the bottle of white polish you use every week. He shakes it around just like you do, hitting it against the heel of his palm.

Holding his hand out, you put yours in his.

“If you couldn’t be an idol, what would you do?” you ask suddenly.

Jeongin doesn’t even pause, but you can see he’s thinking about your question as he unscrews the bottle. The excess on the brush is swiped on the neck.

“Hmm,” he weighs your question. “I don’t know, really. I love singing so much.”

Jeongin grabs your one finger and swipes the polish over your nail.

“You could be a lounge singer,” you tease. “Singing in those fancy, swanky nightclubs at the piano.”

“Would I have a tip jar on top?”

“Oh, of course. It would be overflowing from all the women who fall in love with you every night.”

His cheeks heat up from the compliment, moving from nail to nail with the first coat.

“Don’t say things like that,” he mumbles.

You snicker. “Sorry, but all the old ladies would be head over heels for you. They’d empty their wallets into your tip jar and you would smile and wink at them with those dimples.”

With your free hand, you poke at his face. Jeongin swats at your hand with a whine.

“I’ll mess up your nails on purpose!” he threatens.

Still laughing, you take your hand away from his face. He switches to the second hand. You blow on the first one.

“Okay, your turn: why white?” He asks, paying attention to his careful brush strokes.

“The color?”

He hums an ‘mhmm’.

You smile down at the color on your first hand he did, admiring the way the white looks.

“I think it’s pretty,” you tell him.

“That’s all?”

You snort. “Does there need to be another reason?”

“No, I guess not.” He moves from finger to finger.

“It makes me feel a little extra beautiful. I can’t explain it, but having my nails painted white feels so pretty.”

His own smile is warm and happy. His cheeks scrunch up and the small blush of pink that sits on them make your stomach dance.

You’ve never really needed anything else like you’ve needed his presence— nor have you craved anything similar.

Jeongin is Jeongin. He’s simple and everything you could ever ask for.

“My turn again; if you could change one decision you’ve made in the last five years, what would it be?”

Jeongin whistles and finishes the first coat on your hands. “That’s a heavy question, Y/N.”

You continue to blow on your nails. “Well, I figured we were getting deeper and deeper.”

“I asked you why you liked white nail polish!”

“And I asked you to take a deep dive into your regrets, I think these are pretty similar.”

“Is it?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jeongin grabs the first hand he was working on and takes a look at the polish. “How long does it take to dry?”

“It’s a special gel polish, so ten minutes between coats.”

“How long do you think it’s been?”

“Maybe five?”

He nods and turns to look at the TV. His eyes scan over the subtitles at the bottom to understand what’s happening.

But you don’t look at the TV, you continue to stare at him.

Jeongin’s boyish charm never seems to go away no matter what. Even after all the soft lines of his face turned into hard ones, that teasing happiness is still there.

When you became roommates two years ago it was because you desperately needed a place to stay and he just as direly needed someone to pay the other half of the rent.

A match made in Heaven.

He continued to be an idol and you continued college.

When you first moved in, Jeongin told you that if you wanted more privacy, to let him know, that he was more than content to leave communal spaces to you.

You looked him in the eye and asked, “What if I wanted to hang out with you?”

Neither of you have looked back.

You needed a friend and he needed someone who wasn’t in his group. The boys can only do so much for his sanity.

Sometimes he just needs to come home to acetone and fresh coffee.

Scrunching your nose, you look down at your first hand and poke at the first coat. When your fingerprint doesn’t show up, you hold it out to Jeongin.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He looks back at you, then down at your hand and takes it. God, his hands are so soft.

“It’s too heavy of a question,” he whines.

“I wanna know the answer, though.”

He applies the second coat to a nail.

“I mean, I regret having to wear some of the outfits they had us in before and right after debuting.”

You laugh, it’s a cackle. Jeongin cracks a smile— it feels like a victory in his head.

“Okay, but I mean a real regret. Something you had control over.”

He stops painting your nails and thinks. His lip pulls between his teeth and his eyebrows pull together. Jeongin’s eyes flit around while his brain reels.

After a few seconds, he shakes his head and looks up at you. “I really can’t think of anything, Y/N.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“Not even me moving in?”

His eyes glisten and soften considerably when he hears you say that. The corners of his lips twitch and his heart stutters in his chest a bit.

It feels like cotton is shoved into his mouth while he looks at you. Your hair is still frizzy and everywhere, bare faced with sleepy bags under your eyes, pajamas from this morning still on.

If there was one decision that he was sure he made the best choice of in the past five years, it was you.

“No,” he says with a twinkly smile. “Not even that.”

His demeanor catches you off guard, but you don’t let it show too much.

Jeongin looks at you for a few more seconds before looking down to switch hands.

“My turn again. If you could do anything for a living, what would you do?” he questions while carefully painting.

“Oh, easy. Actress.”

Surprised, he looks back up at your face. “Really?”

“Yeah! I was doing a lot of acting back in America, just local stuff. But when it came time for college, I gave it up.” Your eyes shine sadly. “I was pretty good too, but it’s just one of those careers that have too much uncertainty.”

“Like being an idol.”

“Exactly.” You swallow thickly. “So I went for the secure route.”

Jeongin focuses down on your nails again.

You keep talking. “Besides, I get to live through you.”

His painting stutters, but he continues nonetheless. “What do you mean?”

“You come home with these fun stories of being famous, all the people you get to meet, the countries you get to see. You get to wear Alexander McQueen for God’s sake.”

He blushes, and paints the second coat on your pinky finger.

“Jeongin, your life is so cool. You get to fly to Japan on Tuesday, and you said it like it was just a regular commute. That’s … that’s amazing, you know?”

“It’s not all like that.” He inspects each nail, making sure nothing got messed up.

“I know. There’s crazy fans and all the blood, sweat, and tears.”

Jeongin rolls his eyes. “‘Crazy’ isn’t even a good enough word to describe some of them.”

You laugh.

The TV continues to play.

“But you get to do what you love,” you whisper to him through a thick voice.

Jeongin looks at you closely. There’s unshed tears welling up in your eyes. His heart sinks.

Swallowing, your eyes drop to the couch.

“I gave up on that dream a while ago.” You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “So I decided to live vicariously through you and your fun stories.”

You shrug and roll your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. Your lip quivers.

With your hands still in his, Jeongin threads your fingers together and holds your hands up between you two.

He says nothing.

He doesn’t know what to say.

What can he say in this situation?

You don’t need him to say anything, though. You never have. The fact that he’s there is enough.

“Maybe that’s why we workout so well as roommates,” you say, “no one would suspect a normal girl, with a boring 9-5 would be living with idol superstar I.N from Stray Kids.” Humor was always your coping mechanism.

Letting out a deep breath towards the ceiling, you look back down at him, hands still intertwined.

“Thanks for letting me mooch off your life stories.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Anytime.” He pauses. “For the record, I don’t think your life is boring.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

He nods enthusiastically. “You did that research study about traffic safety last month, I thought it was really interesting.”

An unbelieving laugh leaves your chest. “You don’t need to lie.”

He squeezes your hands. “No, really! You’re studying so hard to be an analyst. You sat outside in the freezing cold for days and days and days watching the crosswalk of a busy road just to collect data.”

It’s true, you did do that. Jeongin also stopped by about once every other hour to give you a hot beverage or food.

If he noticed you were getting cold, the next trip consisted of extra jackets and blankets.

The things you do for research.

“After your findings were submitted, the city started the process to add more crosswalks to busy streets. You’re like a superhero.”

You stare at him for a second before bursting out in laughter. “What a lame superhero!”

Your cackles, like always, are contagious. He can’t fight his own giggles bubbling to the surface in his heart.

Before he knows it, Jeongin is laughing with you.

“I’m Captain Statistics! I beat the odds no matter what!”

He laughs even harder at your pun.

The two of you are giggling so much, your bodies falling forward on the couch, hunched over in a fit of laughter.

But, your hands stay intertwined.

Eventually, the laughter dies down.

Jeongin squeezes your hands once more and flips them around to look at your nails.

“I think it’s time for the top coat, Captain Statistics.”

You look at your hands and test the polish. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He switches the white bottle out for the clear coat. Repeating the shaking process and grabbing your hand.

The top coat goes on much quicker than the white polish does.

“Thank you for this, Jeongin,” you say quietly.

The smile that grows on his face reminds you of those timelapse videos of flowers growing in the Spring. It takes up the entirety of his face— and your heart.

“Of course, Y/N. Happy to do it.”

He moves to the other hand. You blow on the first one.

It’s the truth, he was happy to do it. He’d do it again if you asked him to. Jeongin would happily paint your nails every Sunday for the rest of your lives if you wanted.

Words sit in his mouth, words that he’s wanted to say for months now, words that would change the entirety of your relationship.

They’re so heavy on his tongue.

Jeongin can practically feel them tumbling out. He has to clench his jaw from keeping his confession to himself.

How much longer until he explodes? You can only shake a soda bottle too much before everything comes out the top.

God, he loves you so much.

You say it to him all the time, you say it to everyone so often.

“I love you” is said all the time by you. It’s as easy as breathing for you.

He asked you about it once, why do you say it so much? Your answer?

“People need to know when they’re loved. I will happily be that person that reminds them.”

As if he couldn’t love you more already. You’re just a light, a star, a sun.

Yes.

You’re his sun. The center of his galaxy. Everything revolves around you, he gravitates to you. He can’t help but bask in your warmth every single day.

The last of the top coat is painted delicately. They’re done.

“Finished,” he says quietly.

Your smile lights up the room.

“God, you’re the best, Jeongin,” you say, admiring his handiwork. “Thank you so much!”

He mirrors your smile and starts putting everything away. “Anytime, Y/N.”

Jeongin screws the lids tighter on the polish and acetone. A car honks outside. The TV plays on. The heat kicks on. You blow on your nails.

“I’ll miss you this week,” you tell him casually.

He looks over at you, folding his long legs up on the couch again.

“Really?”

“I always miss you, Jeongin. The apartment feels colder when you’re gone.”

He studies your face for a long stretch of time.

You’re too busy smiling at your nails to notice.

He can’t take it anymore.

“I lied to you,” he says suddenly. You look at him, slightly alarmed.

“What?” you ask.

“I lied— when I said I had no regrets, I lied.”

Your face scrunches up. “Why?”

He swallows nervously. “Close your eyes and I’ll tell you.”

You eye him curiously for a few more seconds before your eyes slide shut.

Jeongin’s heart rate picks up exponentially. It’s going to explode at this rate.

He leans forward towards your face, you’re so perfect. How are you so perfect?

He hesitates.

But, he swallows his nerves and swoops in the rest of the way, pressing his lips to yours delicately. Your body jolts, but you don’t move away from him.

It’s no more than a long peck. Electricity shoots through his body anyway.

A shock goes from his heart to his toes. He can barely feel his fingers.

You’re so magical. How do you do this?

Jeongin pulls away slowly, brushing your noses together and letting your shaky exhales mingle with one another.

He can’t open his eyes. He’s so worried that if he does, he’ll see rejection and disdain in your beautiful eyes.

You’re the first one to speak through the thick silence.

“I fail to see how that is a regret,” you whisper.

He laughs. Like always, you get him to laugh. He rests his forehead on yours.

“I regret not doing it sooner.” His long fingers come up to cup your one cheek.

You hum and lean into his touch.

Validation courses through his veins. It’s taking everything in his body not to jump for joy.

All he wants to do is stand up and scream, pump his fist in the air and claim victory.

Before he could do any of that, you lean forward and kiss him again.

Your top lip slots between his, his bottom in between both of yours.

A sigh of relief leaves his nose, his other arm wraps around your shoulders to bring you even closer. He can’t get you close enough to his body.

Closer, closer, closer.

Please, he needs you to be as close as possible.

He pulls back from the first kiss just to press another one to your lips.

Again, and again, and again— he pulls away just to swoop back in.

It’s never enough.

It’s like drinking water after you’ve been parched all day. He never knew he was crawling through a desert until now.

“Jeongin,” you giggle through his frantic kisses.

He grunts in response and continues to kiss you more. Why can’t he get enough?

He’s resigned himself to his fate. He’ll need to kiss you forever until the world ends.

“Jeongin,” you say again, still laughing.

How has he gone this long without your kisses? It’s madness.

Finally, you pull back. He dives in for another kiss, you turn your head with a brilliant smile, his lips meet your cheek.

Eh, that’ll do.

Over and over again he pecks your cheek. Laugh after laugh comes from you.

“My nails!” you finally call out. “You’re going to ruin them!”

His hand turns your face to look at him. “I’ll do them again. I’ll do them again and again, just please let me kiss you.”

Unable to take it any longer, you throw your arms around his neck and smash your lips together.

You pull him down onto the sofa with you, kiss after kiss being shared between the two of you.

How was he supposed to go to Japan now?

————————————————————————

(A/N: yes, the duck video exists. You can see it here. The first time I saw it I laughed so hard my housemate came in to check on me.)

[kiirotoao]

An argument I see against Byler that irks me, specifically about Will’s storyline, is that some people think that Will’s story is about him accepting himself. Acceptation is absolutely not part of his storyline, and here’s why.

Will has been established as a queer character. Quick as it was, Joyce mentioned Lonnie’s remarks about Will in the very first episode of season 1. Will has also been drafted as a kid dealing with his sexuality. Will knows about what people say about him, and he doesn’t seem to outwardly fight it, alongside much other forms of confrontation towards himself.

Will deals more with the struggle of being different, not of misunderstanding, not of doubting, being.

A great contrast in another series that shows a character learning to accept himself is none other than Nick Nelson in Heartstopper (Webtoon or Netflix - but for the sake of finding scene packs more easily, though, I will be quoting from the Netflix adaptation).

Nick outwardly deals with uncertainty regarding his sexuality. He’s covered in doubtful characters’ judgements, clearly a jock of whom are stereotypically straight, and as Elle would say it, he’s “the straightest person I have ever seen.”

He’s not established with a queer lens. In fact, for a very long time, Charlie thinks that he has no chance with Nick because he doesn’t think that Nick could ever like him like that. But then, in comes Nick’s perspective. He realizes that he’s getting really close to Charlie, and his mom tells him that he’s “much more himself” around Charlie. Then, of course, the meme of Nick taking the “am I gay?” quiz and crying over his result. And then in comes the day after his and Charlie’s first kiss when Nick expresses that he’s “so confused,” not that he didn’t like it, it’s just difficult for him when he’s only ever seemed to like girls before.

That is how you explore an arc of discovering one’s sexuality: show confusion from other characters, self-doubt, and how the character feels working through it. Will Byers has received no such treatment.

He’s not confused, self-doubtful, nor shown working through his sexuality. It’s just always been, and the other characters around him reinforce that. The fact that other characters make remarks. The fact that other characters know without Will telling them anything. The fact that Will has never continued returning any affection to a girl who showed interest in him. The fact that Will never gets a girlfriend. The fact that we know that Will was making that painting for Mike alone.

Plus, if being accepted is Will’s whole storyline culmination, where does he go now that Jonathan in season 4 has accepted him and promises to love him no matter what? That’s it? He’s going to have nothing greater happen to him in season 5 and/or they’re going to reinforce a point they already did so sweetly? Yeah. I mean, I’m not a writer, but, yeah. Sure.

Byler is endgame because Will is going to learn that he no longer needs to just accept himself but see himself in who he is.

[authorhjk1]

Hi again author-nim. I saw a recent ask about Krystal and suddenly went to look for more content, I hope its her time to shine now considering how scarce her content is here on Tumblr. I hope you can be the game changer for second gen since more second gen content are starting to be discovered now by other readers out there.

May I suggest for two fics iydm? Pretty pls.

For the first fic:

For the second fic:

Have a great week ahead of you and stay safe! Peace.

Sparkling Silver

(Krystal Jung X Male Reader)

You look sexy in a suit. That's what she said. And as soon as she did say that, you knew what was gonna happen soon.

While most of your days do end in sex these days, Krystal's compliment indicated that she would take advantage of you even before the two of you got home. She got invited to an art gallery, hence the fancy dress. She brought you along as her plus one, despite you not caring about paintings or art or whatever in the slightest.

The only reason you're here, is because Krystal asked you to. And whenever she does take you with her to these events, you can be sure that she will reward you afterwards. In one way or another. After seeing her in that dress, you really hope it's sex. Especially after she gave you that compliment, when the two of you entered the gallery. A nice car and nice clothes are cool and all, but Krystal has something else that is of much more worth to you. And you can't wait for this event to end, so you can get your hands on it.

To be fair though, you aren't the one who often gets inappropriate in public. Whenever you're out with Krystal, you make sure you behave, knowing that her image is very important. But sometimes, she doesn't seem to care much. A kiss here, a bite of your earlobe there. A glance towards your crotch while she talks with someone else. A hand on your thigh, when the two of you sit next to each other.

It alll builds up to one thing. And it seems like you're getting exactly that right now. Because Krystal just stole you away from the group of people the two of you were talking to and is now leading you to one of the restrooms.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you pin Krystal against it. You capture her lips with your own as you reach down to cup her tits. You've wanted to do that since you first saw her in this silver dress. Her body looks so slim and tight in it. Only her tits and her ass stand out.

"I really love this dress."

You mumble into the kiss, making Krystal smile.

"I know. And I just get so wet whenever you wear an all black suit."

She almost moans into your mouth. You keep groping her tits as the two of you talk between kisses.

"Is that why you bought me so many?"

"Shut up."

Krystal presses her lips against yours once more. Her tongue explores your mouth. Eventually, Krystal drops down and takes off your pants. She strokes your cock a couple of times, before taking it in her mouth.

Your head rolls back, your hand resting on hers as she sucks you off. For a while, the only sounds in this restroom are the sucking noises of Krystal giving you head. She makes sure to look up at you as she covers your cock in her spit.

"Oh, fuck yes!"

Krystal lets out a high pitched moan as you make her cum all over your face. She is bent over the sink, her dress bunched up around her waist. You lick her lips and her thighs, cleaning up the mess she made. Every lick makes her flinch, still sensitive from her orgasm mere seconds ago.

Once you stand up, you align your cock with her tight pussy. With one smooth thrust, you bury yourself deep inside the young millionaire. She moans your name, telling you to fuck her hard. So you do exactly that. Holding onto her waist, you thrust forward, before backing up again. Only a couple of moments later, you're fully fucking Krystal from behind, making her moan against the mirror. Her eyes are fixated on herself as she watches herself getting pounded like a whore.

"Yes, baby. Deeper."

You drive yourself further into her, making sure you pleasure her as much as possible.

"Fuck me hard. Make me cum."

Her voice becomes higher as she says that last word and you can feel that Krystal is getting close once more. You hear someone knocking on the door.

"Occupied!"

You shout, right before you pick up the pace.

"Yes! Ruin me!"

You wonder if the person on the other side heard her.

Focusing back on Krystal, you reach around her waist with one hand, looking for her clit. Once you found it, you start playing with it. She suddenly starts to buck her hips in your direction. Her moans become higher, louder.

The two of you make eye contact through the mirror. Her eyes are begging you to give her another mind blowing orgasm. A moment later, her head drops between her shoulders. You focus on her ass, watching how it shakes with every thrust you deliver.

Until you finally push Krystal to the edge once more. Her thighs shake. A high moan. Her back arched further. And then you feel her pussy clamping down around you. It's walls squeezing your cock. Her body wants you to cum inside of her. And you are not one to decline such an offer.

Youu keep fucking Krystal through her orgasm. Both of your hands are now holding onto her still clothed tits. You enjoy the familiar feeling of her mounds in your palms. Leaning down a little, you kiss the naked skin on her exposed shoulders.

One last groan into her ear and you unload inside of her. Krystal sighs, her body taking your load with practiced ease.

"This felt so good. So freeing."

She says and you notice how relaxed she sounds now.

"Are we going back to this insanely interesting event, that is not at all boring?"

Your complaints in the car on your way hear were duely noted already. And silenced with a quick blowjob.

Krystal turns around, letting your cock slip out of her cum filled pussy. She grabs your tie and pulls you in for another deep kiss.

"Lets see how long it takes until they notice we're gone."

You grin at her, placing your hands on her thighs.

"I'll make sure they hear you loud and clear."

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

Hi everyone!

I hope you enjoyed the next chapter of the series. I've been working a lot on the next SNDS Village chapter, hence the lack of posts. I was hoping to finish it today, but I'm only at around 65%. Turns out the chapter contains way more scenes than I first thought it would. I will be finishing it within this week, so stay tuned, it's coming soon.

Stay healthy, everyone!

[wilcze-kudly]

Aang is great because almost every ship you can put him in instantly becomes top-tier.

Like:

Kataang- they literally make me cry every single time I think of them. Their love story is wonderful and genuinely heartwarming. It symbolises healing and peace for both of them and the literal world. He showed her the world and he's her biggest supporter and she always defends him and they find solace in each other because they understand what it's like to be the last of their respective kind. And they're each other's hope and just... ahhh. They're so much more than the vanilla hero gets the girl ship people paint it as. Haters stay mad or smth.

Zukaang- the symbolism? They're the actual Ying and Yang of the show! The Rozin parallels? Them standing in a vortex of rainbow fire as two dragons (the blue one like Aang's tatoos facing zuko and the other one, red like Zuko's general colour scheme facing Aang) forming a heart shape around them? Zuko was literally searching for Aang and found his redemption in Aang and Aang made him a better person and Aang is literally the only person who genuinely experienced Fire Nation culture before the war and he clearly values it and he's helping Zuko bring peace to the world and the nation...

Taang- The og tomboy x soft boy dynamic. He's literally the person that helped her free herself from her parents and Air is the element of freedom? And she teaches him when to stand firm like the Earth? And I love when they do synchronised earthbending it's so satisfying and they work so well together. Toph having lost her face in one of Aang's nightmares is also a nice parallel to Ummi and Kuruk. (One caveat though: i hate taang being used as a "get Aang out of the way" side ship to Zutara)

Sokaang- they kinda come out of left field for me but the more I think about them the more obsessed I become. It's all about a teenage boy who has been forced into a role that demanded way too much of him finally learning to trust and rely on others. It's about Sokka finally living out the childhood that he was forced to grow out of. Sokka also has such a cute bond with Momo and more importantly, Appa, Aang's animal soulmate. The fics write themselves.

Sukaang- ok, I know Suki and Aang barely interacted in the show but like Hear me out.Suki is so connected to one of Aang's past lives. And she saved Appa, which would totally bond her and Aang (genuinely distressed that this was never discussed in canon). And they both value a sense of community so much, and Aang was one of the people who inspired Suki to leave Kyoshi to help others. Plus, there could be some amazing Rangshi parallels if Suki became Aang's bodyguard instead of Zuko's, which could be very plausible.

Azulaang- I adore this ship because I genuinely think Aang could really help Azula find her redemption. Hell, he was so nice to her in The Search and she literally killed him. Plus I've already laughed about how it would absolutely kill Ozai. The mental crisis Azula would go through due to fallingin love with Aang would be hilarious, and also the guilt over everything she's done, as Aang's kindness makes her realsie she was on the wrong side this whole time. He's one of the only people who can beat her at her prime and he doesn't seem to fear her at all, which is rare for her. Aang could give her the unconditional love she so desperately craves and needs.

Maiaang- genuinely adorable to me. Other than the obvious grumpy x sunshine trope, Maiaang has a lot of potential. Mai seems to genuinely like Aang in the comics, which is really cute. I also think Aang would be able to help Mai express her more positive emotions, other than just anger. Also something about the girl who was forced to remain silent and passive her whole life learning to finally let go and allow herself to just live with the help of probably one of the most active and expressive characters of the show has me by the throat. Plus, he got along great with her lil bro!

Tyaang- They're so similar and cute and bubbly! They'd have tons of fun together and I just know Ty Lee would teach Aang some gymnastics and he really enjoy it! I think he can also find Ty Lee's chiblocking very cool, since it is essentially a great way to deal with a conflict without causing permanent damage. Very airbendery. Speaking of which, Ty Lee is also very airbendry herself. I can genuinely see her finding herself in Air Nomad culture and be excited to help revive it.

Onjaang- i just find this ship so funny because imagine being a random schoolgirl in the fire nation and not only rizzing up a demigod but rizzing that demigod up successfully. This ship can also go so many ways depending on On Ji's reaction to that random cute guy who threw a cool dance party is actually the Avatar, so it's certainly interesting.

Yuaang- the ultimate cinnamon roll x cinnamon roll ship. But more than that, there's of course the Yue becoming the Moon Spirit and Aang getting lowkey possessed by the grieving Ocean Spirit. There's Yue appearing when Aang needed her most, while he's stranded in the middle of the ocean and helping him. They both understand sacrifice and responsibility, and maybe they could comfort each other through it. Also Aang being the bridge between the spirit worlds and Yue being a Spirit could lead to a very interesting romance, depending on how much the Avatar could interact with the Moon Spirit.

Jetaang- ok, Aang was just as infatuated with Jet as Katara was, right? And I think Aang was heavily affected by Jet's actions and behaviour. Also Aang really not wanting to hurt Jet while fighting him (twice!) was really cute. And Aang helping Jet snap out of the Dai Li brainwashing could be a really cool ship moment the more you think anout it.

Teoaang- Honestly their little one sided rivalry at the beginning of the episode was really cute. And I think there could be some interesting symbolism between them. Aang symbolising the old and Teo symbolising the new. They compliment each other like that. Teo comforting Aang by showing him that the critters of the temple are still alive and well is also sweet. And Aang admitting that Teo has the spirit of an airbender is so sweet.

Kuzaang- they're adorable. I loved the comic about them. Aang calling Kuzon "Hotman" is really funny. Aang helping Kuzon make a bigger flame with airbending is also really sweet. I especially like this ship in combination with Zukaang. It's such tasty symbolism.

Aang may just be the most shippable charater of this franchise, argue with the wall. He's so filled with love I have no choice but to multiship.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

HALLO I SAW THE PLUS SIZE BIMBO! X HOTCHER NOTE AND MAY I PRESENT

plussize!goth!bimbo!reader 👀

hotch seems like a man who would be attracted to a plush evil looking person 😭🙏

༉‧₊˚. 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size goth bimbo!reader

— summary: aaron's a "scary man" with a big heart who has just so happened to find his perfect match in a trad-goth wearing woman that's determined to bring him lunch - much to Derek's amusement.

— warnings: none! this is probably more sickeningly sweet than it really needed to be, and fluff!

— wc: 761

⋆ a/n: HOWDY!!!! words cannot express how appreciative i am at the recent massive influx of growing support over the past few months despite me being away. i'm happy to present to you my new baby (this fic) also enjoy Derek heavily cameoing in here, i just missed him.

masterlist | AO3

No one was scarier than Aaron Hotchner.

With his stoic face and monotone voice, many unsubs and government officials alike have shrunk in his presence. Though sometimes he was all work-no-play (or a stick up his ass, which is always so fondly put), he was soft towards the people he cared about.

That being said, it really shouldn’t have been a surprise when you showed up to the office.

You stood out like a sore thumb amongst the dull office setting, your dark, almost vampiric like clothes deeply contrasted the still-life. Your face was complimented by a piercing here or there; one on your eyebrow, a medusa sitting tantalizing above your top lip – which was painted with black lipstick – and your septum was gauged a few sizes up. 

It should have been a lot, but with your trad-goth makeup, it brought the ensemble together.

The visitor sticker stood out against the lace of your top. 

You were searching for someone, that much was obvious, but your eyes just so happened to land on one Derek Morgan.

“Hi.” You breathed out softly as you made eye contact. The intimidating expression on your face melted into a soft one at the hushed greeting.

“Well hello there pretty lady. Who ya looking for?” You smiled at the man’s flirting. “Hey!” You greeted with a bit more enthusiasm. “I’m looking for Aaron? Aaron Hotchner?”

“Aaron? Oh, he’s –” Before he could finish, the man of the hour came bounding down the steps leading to his office.

“Baby.” You greet so softly, so fondly, so filled with love, that Derek feels like he’s intruding on an intimate moment. 

“You’re early.” Aaron rasped. It was clear that he hadn’t left the office for a few with the way his voice fried from unuse. “Ah – sorry, I kinda got a little restless but… I brought you lunch!” To emphasize your point, you lift up the lovely smelling takeout bag and wave it around in small circles. “Forgive me?” You add with a cheeky smile and a tilt of your head.

With the exposure of your teeth, Derek could see the jewelry of a smiley piercing sitting gracefully against your gums.

Aaron looked at the bag and then back at you before speaking. “I suppose I could, but what would I get out of it?” Oh. So he wanted to be cheeky too? Well played. “Well for one, you get to have lunch with your super sweet and cool girlfriend, and secondly, I control whether or not you get kisses.”

This moment proved to Derek that he really didn’t know his boss and close friend as well as he thought he did, because Aaron looked at you with an expression that he hadn’t even given Haley when they were together.

It was a smirk, one that coaxed the need for a challenge, but it was scrambled by the fact that it was fueled by nothing but pure, butterfly inducing love.

It was sickening.

“Well, I see you’ve got this handled.” Derek remarked with a knowing – albeit shit-eating – grin. 

As if you had been broken out of a spell, you tore yourself away from your boyfriend’s enchanting gaze. “Oh, yes! Thank you…”

“Derek. Derek Morgan.” He finished your unasked question.

“Derek…” You repeated as if it sounded familiar. “Oh!” Your eyes lit up in recognition. “Aaron’s told me about you! It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Aw, you sweet talk about me behind my back, boss?” Derek teases.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but there really wasn’t any real irritation behind it. “If I’m not mistaken,” He began, “You still haven’t completed the first wave of files on your desk.” Your boyfriend nips slightly without even having to glance at his subordinates desk.

Derek all but laughs out loud, “You’re right, my apologies bossman.” His eyes were dripping with mirth. “It was so nice to meet you!” You say with a wave. “You too sweetness.” 

As he scrambles away, you turn to look at Aaron with poorly contained amusement.

“Really?” You ask with a raised brow.

“Sorry sweetheart, but I’d rather not have to inhale my food when I can sit there and leisurely enjoy it with my – how did you put it? – super sweet and cool girlfriend?”

You scoff, allowing him to take your ring adorned hand (making sure to steer clear of stabbing himself on your sharp coffin nails) – which has occurred more than once when you two had begun dating.

“Alright, alright, you little sweet talker, let’s go eat.”

Aaron just chuckles.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[mikoluvsblondes]

If you love me won't you say something?

Kate Martin x reader

Water splashed around in the pool that was surrounded by childrens laughter and soon you would be surrounded by Kates arms pulling you down into the water with her. You smiled at each other as the water drowned out the loud noises of the water park. This moment lasted a couple seconds and as if your mothers knew exactly when the two of you would need to come up for air, they called you and Kate.

You came up for air first, watching as her wet blonde hair glowed as she popped out of the water and into the sunshine. Both of you turned to your mothers with a 'Yes!' before hearing that it was time to leave. You followed after her as she climbed out of the pool.

"We need to do this again." You said excitedly.

"We definitely will." Kate replied, handing you a towel before grabbing a towel for herself.

To anyone else it was a small gesture or 'just basic manners' ,but to you it was so much more. It was the reason you were so fond of her, the reason you hung out with her so much,and the reason you had to keep the butterflies in your stomach from knocking against your insides. But she was just a friend...right? Plus, she was so obviously straight anyways.

But that was in highschool. Things are different now.

You and Kate have known each other since you were little girls biking one house over to hangout with each other. Living so closeby and going to the same schools pushed you two to be such close friends, but after highschool you both split up for college; like many people do(even though you promised to play together everyday when you were 5 years old).

But today was different. You were finally able to see Kate in person again after long years of occasional texts or short phone calls.

Now, the doorbell is ringing and you're jogging through the house to get to the front door as flashes of childhood memories with Kate paint every inch of every wall. You can hear your mother's voice greeting Kate as you turn the corner. There she is. Giving your mom a hug before pulling away as soon as she sees you.

"Kate!" you scream, jumping into her open arms to give her a hug. She stumbles a bit before she puts you down and you can get a good look at her. She hasn't changed much, just older, but not in a bad way. You like it.

"I haven't seen you in so long." she gives you a quick hug.

As the two of you got caught up with each others lives, the conversation began to drift towards memories you made growing up together. And that's how you ended up in your swimming pool with Kate.

"See. I said we would do this again didn't I?" she asked, pushing damp hair out of her face.

"I guess you were right."

She comes closer to you, resting her hands on your shoulders and you did the same to her. You stayed in this position; floating around the pool in each others arms. You enjoyed the sound of her voice and the feeling of her touch.

Kate has always been a touchy friend ,but this time is different. Her demeanor has changed. She seems so passionate. Her every touch, every action, and every word that leaves her lips has so much intent and meaning.

Her face inches closer to yours so naturally that you barely notice how close she is to you. So naturally that you barely notice the feeling of her warm breath fall onto your wet skin. You notice nothing ,but at the same time you notice it all. The sound of water from her wet hair dripping into the pool, the feeling skin making contact with yours, the way her blue eyes reflect light into yours, and the contrast of her warm body and the cold calm water.

You draw each other in so lovingly. She presses her lips against yours and you kiss her back. The kiss lengthens, treating each other with such gentleness as if you were both made of glass.

When you pull away, you're met with Kate smiling back at you with a flushed color.

"I love you." she whispers.

"I love you too. I've always loved you." you say against her lips before pulling her into another kiss.

'I guess things really are different now' you thought.

-𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨♡