#but they will be fine!! they get their deserved happiness a little further down the line

[elvenbeard]

Impromptu Pacifica date night uwu

Aaaaahhhhh but fr I am... on the floor sobbing about finally having a pinky fingers holding screenshot of them 😭😭 early on in their relationship that is the only amount of PDA Vince is comfortable with, and it becomes their thing so much and asdgndnsnfrnnmdf I'm so normal about pixel men I swear.

Also, Kerry in his normal in game outfit for a change, and for a reason! Early on when they're only just freshly dating and in the "what are we even"-stage of their relationship, Phantom Liberty takes place on the side for my timeline for Vince. So for Vince it's a constant back and forth between creepy spythriller and unhinged aging rockstar shenanigans. On top, and based a little on one of V's lines during "I really wanna stay at your house" ("let's talk a bit more before I gotta be somewhere again"), I figure it is super hard for them sometimes to just meet up (also Vince is a workaholic on top of the whole dying stuff, he is always super busy - and so is Kerry working on his new album but also still fighting with his depression). And so a lot of their dates during that time go like so...

Vince (at an ungodly hour): You awake?

Kerry: Yeah, what's up?

Vince: I'm in Pacifica at the pier.

Kerry: omw!

And then they just hang out and talk for a few hours about what's going on. Or go somewhere else together for coffee, or drive to the Badlands to look for adventures and a getaway from their problems and negative thoughts together. Those experiences are what really really makes them fall in love with the other for good and for the long run.

I'm just. AAAaHHH. I'm good I'm fine ansnsnsvddb

[slightly-knot-insane]

Under Your Cold Fingertips

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: bodyguard x protégée, fluff and smut, forbidden romance content: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving), p in v, pulling out

"I must rest here a moment, mistress."

The hollow sound of his voice under the helmet is very quiet. He's been walking next to your horse for a while, limping, but insisting he is fine. The snow gathered on his armor and his gray horns were decorated with little crystals.

"Of course!" You hastily unmount, sensing he is unwell.

His armor loudly clanks as he almost falls on the steps beneath the abandoned gate. You hear him breathe heavily and hot. As you look back the way you came, you see droplets of blood branding his every footstep.

"You are badly hurt!" you shout. "You fool, why didn't you tell me?"

He remains silent, his hot breath creating a fog around his head. Maybe you're imagining, but he looks like he's... shaking? Gods...

"Quickly, let's undress you," you order him and kneel in front of him.

"M-mistress..." his metal gauntlets clink as he jerks his arms upwards in shock. "What are you doing? You'll get dirty."

"Shut up," you retort. "I can wash my clothes and shoes. But I can't revive my most loyal bodyguard, can I?"

He doesn't say anything and let's you untie his boots. Meanwhile, he carefully releases buckles below his chin. He removes his helmet slowly but the metal still scrapes against his horns. He is a bit pale and has dark rings surround his eyes. If his sclera wasn't black, you're sure you would see how very bloodshot they are.

You suck air between your teeth. "Your bandages are soaked!" Trying not to harm him further, you carefully start unwrapping the bloodied material.

"Mistress, please! This is highly inappropriate."

You just shoot him a furious glance to shut him up. You barely know anything about wounds or treating them, but the gash is long and bleeding heavily. "This looks bad...", you utter.

"It's fine, I heal fast—" Without waiting him to finish, you quickly get all the necessary things and with his help clean his wound. He hisses as the disinfectant slides down his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper while dabbing around his wound. "You don't deserve this."

A large calloused palm covers your fingers. He is surprisingly gentle. He... never touched you like this before. "Mistress, your hands are cold." Wrapped by his clawed fingers, he brings your hands closer to his mouth and blows onto them. Warm air as white as fog twirls around your heads.

"I—" You wanted to say something, something funny or friendly probably, maybe even witty, but your mind went blank. Or rather, every sensible thought got pushed back by that one idea.

You push yourself between his legs and kiss him. Too shocked to react, he keeps his mouth open like a fish until he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. "What are you doing? You can't... We..." He trails off looking at your lips. "We can't..."

"You're bleeding for me and I can't even kiss you?", you ask in an almost growling tone.

Still slightly shocked, he opens his mouth to speak, reconsiders and kisses you instead, tightly embracing you against his chest. And his hard and cold armor but you don't care. All you want are his warm lips and his tongue to shove itself down your throat. But not only that...

You slide down between his legs again, happy that doesn't have heavy plates on his lower body (even though that proved a wrong choice this morning). You quickly loosen his pants and push your hand inside. "This is wrong," he mutters over and over but does nothing to stop you taking his heavy and strange cock into your hands. You always wondered how it looks like. And tastes like.

You take it into your mouth, followed by his low and breathy fuck, and you hum around it as you use your tongue to explore every part of it. Listening to your guardian's moans makes you wet and your cunt clenches around nothing every time he jerks his hips up and thrusts into your mouth. You lick his phallus all over, sucking his tip and tracing his veins until he grabs your wrists and pulls you on him.

You stand above him, many layers of your dress stopping you to make the next step. You lift your skirts and chemise around your waist. "Forgive me," he says before he rips your undergarments and reaches your pussy. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your folds, his nose digging into your bush and soft tissue. He is growling like a hungry animal, devouring your nectar and you tremble above him, panting and gasping as his tongue finds all your secrets.

He pulls you down, onto his lap and you drop all your skirts onto you two. They hide everything that happens between you two and keep you warm at the same time.

There is a strange expression on his face. "Mistress..."

You kiss him before he says something stupid, and guide his cock inside you. Slight pang of pain causes you discomfort, but you can't help but roll your hips looking for pleasure. His arms are under your chemise and his claws dig into your hips. You moan into each others mouths, your breaths and bodies pushing the cold away. You ride his cock and with his help you feel the pulses of your peak building up.

"I'm close", you sob into his neck and he grabs your ass so that he could lift you and fuck you from below. You breath hitches from the force of his dick digging into your cunt and you quickly come undone. He kisses you, savoring your delight, and slides into your pussy slowly but deliberately, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. He then pulls you onto his chest and positions himself so that he can push his whole cock into you easily. In and out, in and out, faster and faster.

Some outsider wouldn't see a thing happening hidden under those long and dirty skirts. But you could feel the tension of his muscles and his cock swelling inside you. He suddenly pulls out by lifting you like a child's toy and, with a long groan, he cums all over your thighs.

"I wish I saw your cock twitching and spilling," you say while you lay against his breastplate.

Still breathless, he chuckles, but also groans in discomfort. You finally remember. "Your leg!" You jump off his lap and see his leg bleeding again. "You fool! Why did you put me on your lap."

Completely ignoring your scolding, he pulls you down again and you sit like before, your naked cunt against his groin. "Because I don't care about that pain. I dreamed about this for a long time."

"You dreamed about fucking me outside in the cold?", you jab.

He chuckles. "Not exactly in the cold." He kisses your neck and jaw. "But outside, and inside, and in your bed, and in my bed, and against a wall, and on the table, and on the floor, and against a tree..."

As he names all the places he imagined, your pussy throbs against his muscles. "All that sounds lovely. But let's get your leg fixed first before you bleed to death."

He places his forehead against yours. "At least I would bleed for the most amazing woman in the world."

You hit him in the chest, blush overtaking your cheeks. "Shut up, you... fool."

[nightingale-prompts]

Batboy admits the Truth

First | Previous | Next

(Remember when this was cute and fun)

It was a tense reunion. Batman sensed it and left Nightwing to handle it.

Nightwing was of course not happy. He was downright pissed actually.

"Danny Nightingale-Grayson! Running away again?! After last time?!" Dick was about to go on a long lecture when Danny interrupted.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be sorry! I was so worried!" Dick scowled as he tried to calm down.

"I know. I was just scared. You deserve an answer. A good one. I've never had to explain all of this so please just listen." Danny hoped that this was a good idea.

Dick huffed but this was the start that he wanted.

"I'm dead. Undead at least." Danny began.

"What do you mean? Like a zombie or…like Jason?" Dick asked.

"I don't really know. Jason is like me but I'm not like him. I'm more dead than him I guess." Danny didn't know how to nail that down, revenants are their own things. Several rungs down from where Danny was.

"And how did that happen?" Dick asked gently.

"It was an accident. I was just cleaning my family's lab. The portal wasn't working and I just wanted to take a look. I thought if it finally worked they would spend more time with us. But it turned on with me in it. I didn't learn until recently that a portal to the other side required a sacrifice and that was me. I made for a perfect sacrifice at that, children make for best ones." Danny tried to make a joke but it fell flat.

Dick saw stunned into silence. All this time…Danny you-" Dick was appalled that the same people who hated him for who he was were the same people whose negligence that caused him to be this way.

"Its fine though. They didn't mean for this to happen and I should have known better then to mess with the portal." Danny said defensively.

Despite everything he still cared about his parents at least a little bit.

"That is not fine Danny. You aren't fine Danny. They made you feel like you were not human." Dick said exasperated.

Danny shook his head his face contorted.

"Dick…I'm not human." He said simply. It was plain as day "I thought you understood that. I haven't been just human in a long time. When I had wings did you believe I was human?"

"That is not what I meant. You know that. I just-"Dick didn't know what he was doing. "I'm sorry. Continue."

"I got to play hero for a while. It was exhausting but I liked it. I defended the town from all sorts of ghosts. Then i learned why they were running from their home. All the while a monster like me appeared and he…" Dark Danny's memories flooded his mind. He wasn't a ghost or a human in Danny's mind. Monster was the only thought that came to him.

Dan had haunted him since. He would always be a version of Danny that's possible even if the Nasty Burger incident doesn't happen. All it takes is for Danny to suffer another loss. It almost happened again when his parents caught him.

"I learned a lot from that experience. More then that I earned a title that made me important to the other ghosts. They are actually really cool. But when I got home my parents told me that their real son was dead and I was just a ghost in his body. They called me a murderous monster and then they…cut me open." Danny took a deep breath. His throat felt tight as he held back tears. "I…ran. I escaped and lived with the ghosts."

Danny still remembered sobbing into Clockwork's arms while covered in blood.

"I saw a potential future where this happens but I had hoped it would not come to pass." He said holding Danny in his arms.

The problem with ghosts is while they can heal quickly they are damaged by mental pain far more. Danny healed slowly from his wounds and the scars remained.

Clockwork had taught Danny shifting to help improve the boy's mental flexibility and get heal in a better head space. He knew he had to ask Nocturne to take Danny's mind and spare him from further pain when he was kidnapped. Perhaps it was foolish but the event was going to happen regardless.

Dick took in this information as best as he could but it still made him irate. Danny had been through so much but he never let that mask slip until now. He still chose Dick to be his guardian even while he battled his fears of abandonment. Even after being betrayed by people he only wanted to love him.

Dick put a hand on Danny's cheek. The teen looked at him with the pain of a child left all alone. Danny, touched starved, leaned into Dick's hand.

"Danny, I'm so sorry they did that to you. You deserve so much better. I don't care what you are, you're my son." Dick said softly.

Danny's face twisted.

Son.

He wasn't fond of that word. Bring someone's son never meant much. No, when he had a sister who filled the role of his caretaker. Danny never needed a mom or dad before so the words felt hollow, like placeholders.

But Danny didn't say anything. He just wanted this internal fight to be over.

"Can we just go home?" Danny sighed.

"Yeah, sure kiddo." Dick reassured, "Do you want to go to Batburger on the way?"

"Yeah, can I get jokerized fries?" Danny immediately perked up at the sound of his favorite fast food.

"I think they don't sell those anymore." Dick tried to sound casual because no one had actually told Danny that the Joker was dead just missing.

Well everyone believed that he was missing. It was best not to tell the public that the one of the Bats actually committed murder. Thankfully no one is going to care if Joker doesn't commit another crime spree and won't ask too many questions. Honestly, Duke and Jason are having a fantastic time.

"Really? Why?" Danny asked tilting his head kind of like a puppy.

"….no idea." He shrugged.

(Now back to the regularly scheduled fluff, i swear.)

[tender-rosiey]

sick — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: taking care of gojo cause he deserves it my baby :((

satoru forces his eyes open with a great struggle, but seeing your face makes it worth it. he presses a kiss to your forehead, before, reluctantly, peeling off the covers and heading to the bathroom.

his steps are heavier and his mind is a bit hazy. he figures quickly that he‘s caught a cold. but, like the idiot he is, he brushes it off cause what’s a little cold to the strongest sorcerer?

small coughs escape his lips every now then as he gets ready. he applauds himself for being able to do everything—despite the coughing fits—without waking you up.

finally, he tiptoes his way to your sleeping form to give you a kiss on the forehead once again. he takes a last look at your face and he smiles, one reserved for you only.

and so the routine is done! he is satisfied as he walks to the door, ready to act like his normal self that definitely doesn’t have a fever that is worsening by the second.

his hand reaches for the doorknob and, “satoru, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

he turns to you, a grin plastered on his face as he tries masking his coughs, “hey, hun! lovely morning, isn’t it? I was about to—“

“sit your ass back down.”

“yes ma’am,” he mumbles, looking like a kicked puppy.

you roll your eyes before pulling him back to bed. but, of course, he tries to fight it, “y/n, I am fine, really!”

“no, you’re not,” you huff as you make him lay down on the bed and cover him with the blankets, “your breath is heavier and your face is flushed.”

you press a hand to his forehead before gasping, “satoru, you’re burning up! and you wanted to work like this?”

“hey! nothing the strongest—“ he coughs in between, “—can’t handle,” he smiles, trying to assure you, but you don’t buy it.

and you are about to retort, but satoru’s phone rings, cutting your thoughts off. the caller is one of the higher ups.

before your husband gets the chance, you snatch the phone and answer the call instead, “can I help you?”

satoru has given up fighting about it anymore and simply accepts his fate. he snuggles closer to your chest while you listen to whatever the old man is yapping about.

then you respond, “satoru’s not going anywhere,” you tighten your hold on him and he feels his flutter a little at your secure hold. when was the last time he felt protected?

the old man’s yapping turns into barking and his voice is like chalk scratching the board so you sigh and reply, tone giving no room for further discussion, “he is sick. also, why don’t you up your game a bit? you’re maybe double or triple his age? shouldn’t you be able protect yourself? anyways bye! rot in hell!”

you end the call with a smile before tossing the phone to the side. satoru smiles into your shirt, “that was hot of you.”

“oh shut up,” you grumble as you pat his head, “how did you get sick anyways?”

satoru takes a deep breath, brows furrowed before he replies, “one of the curses was related to ice…or whatever,” you hum in response and he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

seeing satoru all weak, maybe even helpless breaks your heart. he is usually so loud, so bright, but now he looks so tired, frail even.

you sigh as your fingers card through his hair. you would’ve preferred if his day-off was spent with him being his usual self rather than all sick like this.

though you can’t deny that a part of you feels a little happy because he trusts you enough to be completely vulnerable with him.

so you press a kiss to the top of his head and he stirs around a bit, words a little slurry, “…what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing, but I have to go and make you some soup, satoru,” you say while trying to get up, but his hold on you tightens.

he voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper, “…stay.”

your heart clenches at the soft plea, but you know that he needs to be well fed so he can recover quickly, “satoru, honey, you need to eat so you can get better,” your hear him groan before reluctantly pulling way.

still, his hand is holding onto your own, and he looks up to you, eyes barely open, oh how you missed seeing those blue gems shinning as usual, even if they scared the shit out of you at night, “just don’t take long…please.”

you nod and press a kiss to the top of his head, “look at you being so polite.”

he grumbles, making you giggle.

you finally make your way to the kitchen. you hope that satoru can sleep a bit till you’re done with the soup.

you don’t feel the time as it passes, already invested in making the best soup for your sick husband.

after a while, you’re finally done. you give yourself a pat on the back before carrying it to the bedroom. you speak, voice low, “satoru?”

he turns in his sleep and slowly opens his eyes, smiling a little, “you’re back?”

“of course, I am, silly. I would never leave you,” and both of you know that those words hold much deeper meaning than it looks like.

you set the soup on the nightstand, “come on, you need to eat, honey.”

he stretches a bit before sitting up—the movement seems to cause him pain but he hopes you don’t point it out—, a wide smile on his lips as he looks at you, “my pretty wife made soup, just for me?” he coughs a little, “I am flattered.”

he sounds better, you note. that sleep must’ve done him good so you hope the soup will make him feel even better.

you take a hold of the bowl and satoru opens his mouth, expectantly. you quirk an eyebrow at him, “what are you doing?”

he closes his mouth with a pout, “you’re not going to feed me?”

he is finally back to his antics, you think as you narrow your eyes, “and why would I do that?”

“because I am your very sick husband who only wants to be pampered by his pretty—“ he is cut off by you shoving the spoon in his mouth.

he swallows the soup, satisfied, and with a grin so wide you’re thinking of smacking him for looking so smug yet so cute at the same time, “thank you, honey!”

you roll your eyes, albeit fondly, “yeah, yeah,” you huff as you feed him another spoon and the smile never leaves his face.

you also notice the little kicking of his feet. does being spoon-fed by you really make him this giddy?

“y/n, you know how everyone boasts about my strength?” you feed him another spoon and he hums in contentment before continuing, “I think my only weakness is you.”

“doesn’t that make you scared?” you inquire as you set the empty bowl aside and satoru wastes no time as he hugs your waist as snuggles into your chest, his favorite place, “having a weakness and everything.”

he shakes your head, “nope, it just makes me want to get even stronger so I can protect you.”

he thinks for a moment, “you got me wrapped around your pretty fingers and I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he then grins, looking up at you.

it’s silent for a while before you speak up, “satoru.”

“hm?” you practically hear the smirk his voice.

you deadpan, “did you just fart?”

“honey, I could never!” and satoru thanks the heaven that he is sick cause he knows that he would’ve been hit by every single pillow on this bed otherwise.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[stevie-petey]

episode seven: the bite

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at.  “It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.” “And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Summary: steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured

Rating: general, cursing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, mentions of blood, graphic depictions of blood and gore, cursing

Words: 10.1k

Before you swing in: HI IM ALIVE !!! my laptop isnt ,,,, but im trying to ignore that. sincerely apologize for the wait. my laptop shits down randomly every ten minutes and my new one is backordered so ive been fighting demons to write this. i also had a hard time with the bathroom scene with robin. i wanted to get that scene just right. it took a lot of rewriting, but i think im happy with how it ended up <3 pls enjoy this child of mine. she cost me blood, sweat, and tears lmao

-

“Boop!” Steve’s finger pokes your nose and he lets out a delirious giggle. “I booped you!”

At first it was adorable, endearing even, when he booped your nose. However, he’s done this five times now in the last minute alone. That, and you’ve been trying to give Dustin directions back to the elevator while dodging Steve’s surprisingly aggressive nose boops. All while the threat of armed Russians running after the cart looms over you. “Turn left here–would you stop it?”

“Wanna boop that pretty little nose,” Steve’s glossy eyes struggle to find yours, his motor skills delayed and concerning. His left eye has all but swollen shut and you’re still not sure if his unusual behavior is due to head trauma or something else. “C’mere, angel.”

He tries to boop you again, and before you can dodge the attack, Robin’s hand grabs his finger and she lets out a pathetic scoff. “You’re hogging the boops, dingus!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Yeah huh!”

Steve’s arm reaches over you and he bats at Robin. They start to hit one another, though their movements are slow and weak. They giggle as they fight, and you’re stuck in the middle of it. You try to push them off of you, but the two teens are too busy pinching each other and cackling to pay you any attention. It’s miserable. 

Erica, from the passenger seat of the cart, turns and winces at your predicament. “What is wrong with them?”

“I don’t know!” Dustin keeps his eyes in front of him as he drives, though he’s equally as confused and unnerved. Secretly, he’s glad he’s the one driving. Otherwise he’d be in the middle of a Steve and Robin giggle sandwich like you are.

“Whose hand is that?” You twist around. There’s a foreign body part that’s currently resting on your ass. Steve snickers and Robin puffs out her cheeks and giggles, neither one of them confessing. You’re about to start kicking shins when the cart comes to a screeching halt. The force of it throws you and the two teens back with a painful thud. “Christ!”

“You guys alright back there?” 

Somehow you wind up with Steve’s elbow in your ribcage and Robin’s head smacking into yours. Hissing in pain, you throw the two off of you and glare at your brother. You seriously fear the day he gets his license. “I want to die.”

Dustin turns back around in his seat and gulps. Steve’s and Robin’s own groans of pain can be heard from behind him. “They’re fine.”

Sneakers squeak against the tile floor and the doors to the back of the cart fly open. You’re greeted with Erica and Dustin, eyes wide as they take in the scene before them. You’re squished underneath the teens. You try shoving them off of you again, but they’re dead weight on you. 

“Wanna kiss again, Y/N? I really liked it,” Steve smacks his lips as his head rests against your stomach. “Wanted to do that for so long.”

Your cheeks burn at his words and your stomach flutters. You haven’t forgotten about the kiss earlier. God, you haven’t. It leaves you breathless every time you remember how it felt to have him so close, to smell him and taste him. A part of you wants to ask how long he’s thought about kissing you, but you know that the back of a cart while fleeing from Russians isn’t the most appropriate setting. 

Robin squirms next to you, her head also somehow on your stomach, pinning you down. “Can I get a kiss too?”

“If either one of you kisses me right now, my knives will be the last things you see.” The two teens make despaired noises, which you groan at. Meanwhile, Dustin and Erica continue to stand at the end of the cart, unmoving. You clench your teeth. “A little help here?” 

Dustin mumbles a sheepish apology and yanks Steve’s arm while Erica yanks at Robin, freeing you. As soon as you’re able to, you jump out of the cart and start clapping your hands to speed everyone along. “We gotta go!”

“We’re trying, Y/N!” Erica groans, struggling to get Robin up from the ground. 

You start to help, though you nearly fall when Dustin throws Steve against you. A complaint lingers on your lips, but when you see that your brother is now at the elevator doors with a keycard in his hand, you swallow it down.

Steve, however, is full of complaints. “This sucks.”

You blow hair out of your face and don’t bother responding to him. Instead, you watch anxiously as your brother swipes the key card he must’ve stolen earlier. When the scanner’s light flashes green and opens the elevator door, you exhale with relief. At least something has gone right today. 

After practically throwing Steve and Robin into the elevator with Erica’s help, Dustin hits a button and closes the door. As soon as it shuts, the room starts to move. You brace yourself, now familiar with how fast the damn thing can go.

The elevator ascends at a nauseating speed and there’s a crash behind you. Turning around, you find Robin holding a dolly in place as Steve gets on. He holds his hands out and starts to cheer as his friend snickers. They look like goddamn toddlers at daycare.

“Hey, no!” You feel like a parent, yanking at Steve’s arm to get him down from the dangerous position. The elevator is moving too fast to be messing around on. “This isn’t playtime–”

“He looks like he’s surfing, Y/N!” Robin squeals with excitement, rolling the dolly to the left.

Steve’s body twists and he steadies himself with a laugh. “I’m surfing!”

“Stop fucking surfing!”

You fight with the teens. Steve refuses to get down and Robin keeps rolling the dolly away from you. As you yell at them, Dustin and Erica exchange concerned looks. You overhear the girl mention how they seem drunk, and you’re about to tell her that she might be right, when Robin pulls the dolly from underneath Steve and sends him crashing into the ground. 

“Wipeout!”

You’re checking Steve for injuries as soon as he lands. Dustin kneels next to you and feels his forehead and winces. “He’s burning up.” 

Not liking the sound of that, you check Steve’s pupils. The room’s lighting is dim, but it’s obvious that his brown eyes are almost entirely taken over by the blacks of his pupils. “Holy shit, they’re scarily dilated.” 

“Ow. Thought you liked my eyes,” Steve swats at your hands sadly. He whines, trying to get you to let go of him. “Said you liked brown.”

“I do like brown, but I also like when you don’t act like a three year old.” You soothe him before turning to Dustin. “Any idea what it could mean?”

“Maybe he’s drugged?” Erica suggests.

You frown. “Could explain why he keeps trying to–” Steve reaches up and boops Dustin’s nose. He giggles and your brother looks annoyed. Sighing, you finish what you had been trying to say. “Boop people. Why he keeps trying to boop people.”

“Your turn, angel!”

Dustin intercepts Steve’s finger, which you’re grateful for. He gently smacks the teen’s face to get his attention. “Steve, are you drugged?”

“How many times, dad?” His voice drips with sarcasm and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.”

“Since when do you smoke?” 

“Y/N, focus.” Dustin dodges another incoming boop and swats Steve’s hand away. “This isn’t funny, okay? We need to know what they did to you.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your fingers run through Steve’s hair. Parts of it have dried blood. Something more than a beating happened to him and Robin, you just don’t know what. If they’re really drugged, you have no way of knowing if they’ll be okay, and a part of you is terrified. “Work with us, please. What did they give you?”

“Are you gonna die on us?” Dustin asks, concerned as well.

“I’ll tell you!” Robin shouts from the corner she’s slouched in, eager to please you. She twirls her hair around her finger and gives you an unsettling smile. “We all die, my strange little child friend. It’s just a matter of how… and when.”

Neither you nor Dustin say anything for a few moments. Both of you blink, trying to process what exactly the teen has just said. Afraid to look away from her in case she tries to possess you or something, you slowly nod. “Okay, thank you for sharing, Robin.”

She flashes you a thumbs up and proudly smiles. “Happy to help!” 

“They’re gonna be looking for us up there,” your brother redirects the attention back to the fact that you’re all still very much in danger. He starts to interrogate Steve, trying to come up with a plan. “So I need you to tell me where you parked your car.”

“Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?” Steve’s eyes glaze over and you know you’ve lost him again. 

Robin leans forward and starts playing with your hair. “I would kill for a hot dog on a stick!”

You snap your fingers at the two of them. They’re impossible to level with, you’re not even sure why you’re still trying. “Guys, we need to focus.”

“No! No hot dog on a stick,” Steve suddenly lifts himself up and glares at Robin. “The guy at the counter said that Y/N she has pretty eyes. He’s an asshole.”

“You mean Dave? When the hell did he say that?”

Steve scoffs at you. “Last week. Ruined my whole day.”

“Fine! We’ll get you and Robin something else to eat.” Dustin says, which Robin cheers at, though he ignores her. “But only if you tell me where your car is parked.”

Suddenly Steve’s hazy eyes fill with remorse. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh? I don’t like uh-oh, can we not uh-oh?” Dustin nudges you with his shoulder to shut you up and let Steve explain. You mumble an apology. “Okay, why the uh-oh?”

“They took the keys.” Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and reveals that there’s nothing in them. “The Russians, they took the keys. Like forever ago.” For some reason this is hilarious to Robin, who starts to laugh hysterically in the corner. He joins her, amused by the whole thing. “That’s a bummer, right?”

You drop your head in your hands as Dustin sighs. With no keys and no way out of the mall, you’re not sure what else you can do. The only other option would be the bus that takes commuters home, but it comes every few hours and you have no idea what time it even is right now. 

Which means you’d be left with having to hide a very drugged up Steve and Robin in a giant mall swarming with Russian undercover guards for an unforeseen amount of time.

Not ideal. 

“We’re doomed.” You sigh into your hands.

Dustin nods beside you. “Yeah. We’re doomed.”

– 

When the five of you finally reach the mall, you guide everyone through the back hallway and fling the doors open. Fresh air hits your face and you take a moment to inhale. It’s only then that you notice that it’s dark outside. The air is warm, crickets chirp faintly from far away. What day is it? How long could you have possibly been down in the lair? 

As you have a minor breakdown trying to get your bearings, Steve and Robin walk behind you. Their mouths are wide open as they greet the fresh air with glee. “Oh my God, that tastes so good! Steve, can you taste the air?”

They stick their tongues out and marvel at the world around them. “I taste it!”

You watch them with your arms crossed. If you had any suspicion before that they were drugged, seeing them try to eat the air only confirms it. 

“Shit!” Dustin screams out of nowhere and grabs your hand. He tugs at you to start running. You look up and see two Russians men now running straight towards you. 

“Come on!” You grab Erica’s hand and shove her in front of you to run alongside your brother. Then you grab Steve and Robin by their shoulders and all but throw them against the mall’s door. “Go!”

“Why are we running?” Steve mopes, tired from all the physical activity he’s been forced to endure these last few minutes. 

You don’t bother answering him and instead shove him inside the second Dustin gets the mall’s doors opened. Everyone runs, though you’re not sure if anyone has an actual plan. The guard’s footsteps can be heard behind you, and all you know is that you guys need to hide until you can figure something else out. 

“Any chance you guys know any hiding spots?” You shout behind you to the kids, nearly tripping over your feet as you do so.

“No, this mall is one giant public swamp.” Dustin responds, huffing. 

Steve stumbles next to you, still obviously drugged up, yet giggling as always. “It feels like we’re running from movie villains!” 

Turning a corner, what Steve has said floats through your mind. Running from movie villains… What are the odds the Russians know about American movie theaters? They’re dark and usually crowded with people for night showings. It could be the only safe place to hide. 

“Dustin, start heading towards the theater!” Erica and your brother start asking you questions, but you don’t have time to explain. “Just trust me.”

Somehow you all make it to the theater’s doors without being detected. Poking your head through, you make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. When you’re sure it’s safe, you open the door wider and motion for everyone to follow. “Let’s go.”

Dustin guides, dragging Robin behind him while Erica follows. You stay with Steve and start walking once the others have gone ahead. 

“Awesome, movie date!” Steve exclaims with a dopey smile. He’s about to say something else when his eyes find something. Completely forgetting that you’re holding his hand, he runs towards a nearby trash can. He pulls out a bag of popcorn that had been on top of the trash pile and quickly starts shoving the food into his mouth. 

“If you ever wanna kiss me again, stop eating trash popcorn.” You snatch the bag out of his hands with a disgusted face. “I cannot believe I have to tell you that.”

“But I’m hungry.” Steve pouts, staring down at his now empty hands with despair. 

You ignore his pathetic pouting and follow Dustin, who has now flung open the curtains to the theater’s seats. He scopes the area and starts heading right. When he stops at two open seats, he points his finger at Steve and Robin. “You two, sit.”

“But these seats are too close!” Robin complains, and Steve voices his own qualms about the seating arrangements. 

However, you have other things to worry about. Shoving the teens into their seats, you wipe away crumbs on the ground with your shoe. “I’ll sit on the floor next to them. No way I’m leaving them alone when they’re high off their asses.”

Dustin looks at you, skeptical. He doesn’t want to leave you alone with them, afraid they’ll somehow get you into trouble. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ll take care of them.” you squeeze his arm. While you understand his concern, you can’t bring yourself to abandon Steve and Robin again. Not when Steve’s face still bleeds slightly and Robin’s cheek swells with a bruise. They got hurt because of you; the least you can do is stay with them now. “Find other seats, we’ll be fine here. Just… be careful, alright?”

A man behind you shushes you rudely, reminding you where you are. If the kids don’t leave now, they run the risk of drawing more attention. You push your brother back up the aisle of seats, and he seems to understand what you’re doing. “Fine, but whatever you guys do: Don’t. Go. Anywhere.” 

“Fine, dad.” Steve glares at the kid, which you sigh at. It’s going to be a long night. 

Dustin leaves after you’ve saluted him, and Erica follows. Once they’re gone, you do your best to keep Steve and Robin quiet. As you shush them, you look up and see Dustin standing near the exit. You tilt your head, hoping he sees your questioning, and thankfully he does. He holds his radio up and mimes making a phone call. 

He’s calling for help.

You nod at Dustin, indicating that you understand, and he leaves. After you’ve checked to make sure Erica is still in her own seat at the other end of the row, you turn back towards Steve and Robin; they’re enamored with the movie playing. They whisper to themselves, not understanding what’s happening, but at least they’re quiet and out of danger. Slowly, you start to relax. 

All you have to do is stay in this movie theater until Dustin can contact the party for help. Should be simple enough. Except you make the fatal mistake of absentmindedly mentioning that you’re thirsty. “God, I need water right now.”

“Water.” Robin exhales as if it’s a prayer. Her entire face twists into longing and she hits Steve’s shoulder. “Water. Now.”

“On it!” He nods earnestly and suddenly the two of them are scrambling out of their seats. You snap your fingers at them, hiss whispered threats, but they don’t listen. They climb over you as if you’re an inconvenient bug on the ground. 

Before you can even stand up, they’re already halfway up the aisle of seats. You barely have time to get up before they’ve left the theater itself. “I’m so over them being drugged.” You huff, running after them. There isn’t time to tell Erica where you’re going, too afraid you’ll lose them if you don’t hurry. 

Those fuckers better save you some water.

– 

Steve makes you hold the button on the water fountain because he “can’t do it himself”.

“Is my help really necessary?” You complain, arms crossed as you watch Steve messily gulp water down. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and for a brief moment you truly question whether or not you find him attractive. Water drips down his chin and his gulps are obscenely loud. 

“Yes,” Steve responds in between slurps. The cold water washes over him and he’s never felt closer to God than in this moment. “That’s amazing.”

Robin stands next to you, patiently waiting her turn. “So like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but I’m pretty sure that mom was trying to bang her son.”

“In the movie?” You hadn’t been paying much attention in the theater. Your view from the ground was shitty and you were too busy making sure the idiots didn’t somehow kill themselves. However, despite your lack of attention, you doubt that’s what the movie’s premise had been about. 

“Wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom?” Your hip knocks against Steve’s, causing him to choke on the water he’d been drinking. Coughing, he clutches at his chest. “I could’ve died, Y/N!”

“Sorry,” you smile sympathetically at him, feigning pity. He lost the privilege of calling other women hot after getting you locked in a Russian elevator for twelve hours. “My hip slipped.”

“Aren’t you two going to question how the guy was able to go back in time?” Robin is still focused on the whole son being in love with his mom plotline. 

Steve inhales even more water. “Then why is it called Back to the Future?”

Robin begins explaining the complexities of the movie, but you tune her out. While you appreciate that she’s trying to make conversation, you’re uneasy about being out in the open like this. There’s no one around, but you can never be too careful. It’s only when she shoves Steve away from the water fountain that you focus again. 

“Wait, I was supposed to go after him–” Your protesting falls on deaf ears as Robin steals your turn for water. Reluctantly, you step away. She can hold her own damn water fountain button. 

You notice that Steve has wandered off a few feet away. He still stumbles as he walks, though his footsteps aren’t as unsteady as they were earlier. He stops in the middle of the walkway and you join him. 

“Wow,” he breathes out, looking up. He’s mesmerized by what he’s seeing. Curious, you look up as well, though you only see the skylights above. It’s night, no natural light flows through the panels. Yet Steve stands transfixed next to you. “The stars.”

“The stars?” You’re not sure what he means. You can’t see the stars from where you stand. Then again, you suppose he could be seeing things, given that he’s heavily drugged up. 

“The stars are pretty like you, angel.” Steve says, eyes still on the sky, yet his hand somehow finds yours. He intertwines your fingers together and is able to pull you closer, albeit weakly. “You’ve always been so beautiful… scared me when we were younger.”

Your breath catches and you look at him. He’s looking up, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you. An overwhelming warmth fills your chest. You want to say something, tell him you love him and that his beauty last July had terrified you. 

But you don’t say anything. Steve is still high, he wouldn’t remember what you’ve said, and you want your confessions to sit within his chest the way his sit in yours. Instead, you find yourself admiring him. You study the length of his neck. The mole that rests just below his jaw and the others that litter his pretty face. His nose, the dip of his chin. The hair tucked behind his ears. His eyes.  

Steve Harrington is beautiful. Scars and all. 

Then he starts to gag and quickly the moment is ruined. 

“Oh, God.” You quickly grab his shoulders and frantically look for the nearest bathroom. In your haste, Robin reacts to Steve’s sudden sickness by gagging as well, and you’re very afraid of what’s about to unfold. “Okay, bathroom time! For the love of God, we need to find a bathroom.”

They’re useless as you twist and turn them around as you search for a bathroom. When you see a nearby sign, you drag them behind you and pray that they make it the next fifteen feet. As soon as you barrel through the bathroom door, Steve and Robin run out from behind you and just barely make it to the toilets before spilling their guts. 

You stand near the doorway, cringing. It’s not a pretty sight. 

They puke, spit out the excess, and flush the toilet to clear it before the next round of vomiting begins. Then they do it all over again. It goes on like this for a while, and all you can do is linger in the doorway and offer halfhearted comfort from across the room. You’ve never really gotten over your slight fear of vomit, if you’re being honest. 

Eventually Steve and Robin seem to throw everything up. When they’ve flushed the last of their sickness down, you hesitantly walk towards them and stand in between the stalls. “We feeling any better?”

“The room stopped spinning for me.” Robin says, her feet propped against the stall’s wall. You have no idea how she’s laying down the bathroom’s ground so casually. “Steve, is it still spinning for you?”

He looks up for a moment, testing what will happen. When he feels perfectly fine, he exhales with relief. “Holy shit. No.”

“You probably flushed the drugs out of your system when you puked.” You observe, leaning against the stall’s divider. “What were you guys on?”

“Allegedly a truth serum.” Robin says from the floor. “Ask me something, test if it’s really all gone.” Then, because she’s trying to get you to laugh, she lowers her voice and impersonates one of the Russians. “Interrogate me.”

Though you smile at her, your stomach twists. Not only were they beaten for information, they were also injected with a goddamn truth serum. Treated like lab rats. And you left them behind, all alone; you’ll never forgive yourself for that. 

But they’re here with you now, you remind yourself. They came out the other side. So you’ll do whatever you can to make it up to them and show them that you’re here for them. Even if that means asking bizarre questions to make sure they’re no longer being controlled by truth serums. “When was the last time you peed your pants?”

“Today.”

Steve looks at you to make sure you’ve also just heard Robin’s response. “What?”

You shrug. “I can’t really judge. I peed my bed a few years ago. Watched a scary movie with Dustin and had a nightmare. Wasn’t my proudest moment.”

“What?” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“See!” Robin lifts her head up from the ground to look at you. “I was also scared. When the Russian doctor pulled out a bone saw, it was only a little bit, but holy shit.”

She starts to laugh and you join her, despite the image of the bone saw you saw burning your mind. You had seen it in the room when you were saving them. It had terrified you. Yet Robin laughs about it now, so you allow yourself to as well. 

Steve shakes his head at you both. “Yeah, it’s definitely still in her system.”

“And it’s not in yours, Harrington?”

His eyes shine when he looks at you. He’s coming back to himself, you can feel it. The knowing smirk is back. “Clean as a whistle, Henderson.”

Robin clears her throat, now uncomfortable. “Aright, my turn. I want to ask him a question.” When Steve gives her the okay, she takes a deep breath. She looks at you, a resigned look on her face. Something seems to have struck her, something that terrifies her. Her laughter is gone. “Have you… ever been in love?”

Steve doesn’t expect the question. He looks startled by it and tilts his head up at you. Your eyes meet, and you nod, giving him the permission he doesn’t truly need. You talked about it once, last year. The two of you in your room late one night, whispering confessions about love and the pain it brought. It was never a secret. 

“Yep. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.” Steve mimes a gunshot to his heart, trying to lessen the unease. He will never really feel comfortable talking about that time of his life. 

“Oh, my God.” Robin rolls her eyes. “She’s such a priss.”

You walk over to her stall and nudge her leg with your shoe. “Hey, she’s my friend, ya know.” Ignoring how dirty the bathroom floor inevitably is, you sit next to Robin. “She’s not a priss.”

“At least, not really.” Steve adds, nostalgia in his voice. 

Robin seems to hear it, too. She sits up, eyes not meeting yours. “Are you still in love with Nancy?”

Without meaning to, you hold your breath. You know Steve no longer loves her, but it’s July and somehow he still isn’t yours. There’s still trust between you, but your body tenses and your heart stutters. 

And yet Steve doesn’t hesitate. It’s immediate. He doesn’t even have to think about it. He’s known since April, though his body has known since he offered you his hand the day you almost hit his car with your bike. “No.”

“Why not?” Robin doesn’t know why she’s pushing this. You’re next to her, your thigh presses against hers. She knows that Steve is in love with you. He confessed it to her when she was teasing him about it just a few days ago. She devoted an entire whiteboard to tallying all the times he failed to ask you out. 

Steve is yours, and you’re his, but Robin can’t help but pick at scabs and expose old wounds. 

There’s a few moments of silence. Steve takes his time responding. He can almost feel your hand ghosting over his, even though you’re separated by a stall. “I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.”

You’re quiet. Robin is as well. 

“You know, it’s crazy.” Maybe it’s the truth serum still coursing through Steve’s veins or maybe it’s because he’s almost died a million times tonight. All he knows is that he’s tired of running. You deserve to know how he feels about you. “Ever since Dustin got home, he’s been badgering me about asking this girl out. That I need to ‘find my Suzie’. A girl he met at camp who somehow became his girlfriend, who I’m not even sure is actually real.”

He’s rambling. He knows he is, but you and Robin remain silent and patiently wait for him to keep going. Steve inhales, holds the breath for a few seconds, and exhales. All summer he’s been agonizing over this very moment. He’s spent countless sleepless nights terrified that he’d somehow ruin it. In the end, his own cowardice only hurt you; he still remembers the way your body shook in his arms while he held you as you cried last night. Steve remembers the fear on your face when you realized you couldn’t save him. That the Russians were going to take him away from you. 

It was then, seeing the terror in your eyes and hearing the desperation in your voice, that Steve Harrington finally realized you would give all of yourself to him; that is what love is. 

To love someone is to know that they deserve your love. 

And for some reason you love Steve. You see something in him that deserves your love. He’s no longer terrified that his love isn’t enough for you. He realizes now that it’s enough. His love is enough because it is his. 

You deserve love, and Steve is more than happy to give all of his to you. 

“The point is,” Steve runs a hand through his hair. He can feel you listening, waiting. “This girl, you know, the one that I love, it’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school… and I don’t even know why.”

A small laugh cuts through the barrier between you and Steve. The two of you spent years together in school, and not once did he ever talk to you. There was one time, early sophomore year, when he collided with you in the hallway while running to the bathroom to meet Nancy. He had apologized to you, but he continued running and hadn’t looked back.

It was two years ago, but you had only been kids, then.

Hearing your laugh emboldens Steve. He clears his throat, lifts his head. He wishes you were in the stall with him. “I think… I think I was scared. I had always watched her from afar. I mean, here was this girl who would offer help to anyone who needed it. Didn’t matter who they were, she’d help them. I just, I didn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why someone would go out of their way to help others without expecting anything in return.”

“I mean, there I was, worrying about being prom king while this girl was tutoring kids for free in the school library.” Steve scoffs at himself. He will never forgive himself for wasting all those years with you. He could’ve been your friend sooner had he not been such an asshole. “It’s stupid. I mean, Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been friends with this girl the whole time.”

You rest your head against the wall, buzzed with warmth. “You should’ve,” you find yourself saying softly. Though you know yourself. Steve came into your life when you needed him the most, at the right time, for the right reasons. The timing had never been right before. “But I’m sure the girl is glad you ended up how you did.”

“Me, too.” Warm honey laces Steve’s voice. He can almost feel your body on his. He can see the lines and strings above him, materializing into something more solid with every word he says. “Still should’ve happened sooner, though. I mean, this girl we’re talking about is incredible. She makes me laugh more than anyone I’ve ever met. She’s witty, she always knows what to say and she’s so goddamn smart. I don’t think she knows this, but she has this way with people…”

His voice trails off. It’s what he loves the most about you. The effect you have on everyone you meet. The impact you make within a person’s life simply by smiling at them. “She has a way of making someone into a better person without even realizing it, just by being a part of their life. She… she made me a better person. Taught me to be softer, more vulnerable.”

Steve hadn’t known gentleness until he met you. 

To your left, Robin starts to close in on herself with every word he Steve says. She slouches down, drops her head into her knees almost as if in despair.

“She saw this good in me that no one else had before. For some reason, instead of using it against me like others have, she believed that I could be someone different. That I could change… It didn’t matter how long it would take me, she would wait. And I’m so goddamn lucky to be in love with someone as selfless as her.”

Guilt eats away at Robin. She’s harbored a resentment towards Steve all summer, even though she tried to swallow the feeling down. The love between you and Steve had always been obvious from the first day she met you. She watched the two of you dance around each other every day, basking in the sickly sweet young love you shared with one another. 

It’s not that Robin resented your relationship with Steve. No, she was happy for you, truly. The bitter taste in her mouth whenever she watched you gently stroke his cheek with your fingertips was remorse intermingling with resentment because she will never be able to do that. She will never be able to love someone so openly. To have someone hold her hand and call her tender names. 

You’re a beautiful girl with a boy who could adore you freely. Robin can only ever watch you from the shadows, scared to be caught.

You notice Robin’s shift in demeanor and press your body closer to hers. You’ve never seen her look so small before, so unsure of herself, and it worries you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

She shakes her head, too afraid that if she talks she’ll start to cry. The kindness that you offer her stings. She doesn’t deserve it. Not when she believes you outshine the sun. Before she can make up some excuse, Steve knocks on the stall. “Robin? Y/N? Did someone just OD over there?”

“No,” Robin’s breath is shaky, which worries you even more. “We’re still alive.”

You try to meet her eye, but she won’t look up at you. You’re not sure what’s happened, but she’s closed herself off from you; you feel like an intruder. Placing an arm on her shoulder, you’re about to offer her some more water when Steve’s body slides into the stall.

He settles himself across from you, shy with his movements. Your heart lurches when you see him, too. He confessed his love for you only moments prior, and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and call him yours, but Robin looks pale. She’s scared. You just don’t know why.

“The floor’s disgusting,” she says to Steve, hoping to get the attention off of her. 

“Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so…” He looks down, cringes slightly. You remain silent, and Robin’s eyes are still downcast. Seeing this, Steve tries to lighten the mood and asks Robin a teasing question. “So, what do you think?”

“About?”

“This girl,” he turns to you, then. He looks at you with such fondness and knows that both you and Robin know he had been talking about you the entire time. He’s trying to get you to laugh, bring a smile back to your faces.

Robin tries to play along, swallowing down the remaining bitterness. You’re sitting next to her, your hand is still on her arm. “She sounds awesome.” 

“She is awesome.” Steve winks at you, hoping it’ll get you to blush the pretty pink he loves so much. When it works, he smiles. “And what about the guy?”

“I think he’s as sweet as honey in July.” You say, giving into Steve’s charm. It’s worked on you ever since the day you crashed into that ditch, even if back then you refused to admit it.

“Yeah? Well, I think he’s on drugs, and that he’s not thinking straight. That he doesn’t realize how lucky he is.” Robin interjects. She doesn’t look at you, her eyes remain on Steve. You raise your eyebrows at what she’s said. You hadn’t expected such a pessimistic response from her.

Off put by her sudden dejection, Steve becomes defensive. He doesn’t understand what Robin is doing. She was the one who kept encouraging Steve to ask you out all summer. “Really? ‘Cause I think he’s thinking a lot more clearly than usual. He knows what luck is.”

“Does he? What if there’s this other girl, one he hasn’t seen yet. I mean, really seen.” Robin swallows. Her fingers twist together nervously. “What if he one day sees her and realizes just how unlucky she is. I don’t think the guy would ever want to be her friend after that.”

“No, that’s not true. No way is that true.” Steve shifts closer to the two of you now, confused as to why Robin is saying all of this. Of course she’s his friend. “I mean, apart from the girl he’s in love with, this other girl is the guy’s only friend.”

“Listen to me, Steve.” Robin still doesn’t look at you, but you listen silently and allow her the space she seems to need. “It’s shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you, but I’m not lucky like you are. I think… I think you should use that luck. Go for the girl.”

Steve tilts his head, not quite following. “What does luck have to do with any of it?”

Robin sighs and you sit next to her, quiet. She seems to be trying to figure out what she wants to say, and somehow you think you know what she means by luck. It’s always fascinated you, luck and love. Two sides of the same coin. But it never occurred to you that there could be an undercurrent that cuts through the luck. A double meaning behind it. 

“Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

“Yeah,”

Robin closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens them, there’s a resolved look in them.  “It… It isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

At first, you’re confused. You had missed their conversation about Mrs. Click’s class. They must’ve had it when they were being held captive, but the phrasing of what Robin has just said feels heavier than it should. Her words land on you with a force you hadn’t seen coming. 

If Robin had for some reason talked about being obsessed with Steve in a class they once shared, but not because she had a crush on him, but because a girl wouldn’t stop staring at him… 

“Mrs. Click?”

Even though you’ve done well remaining silent this entire time, you can’t help but snort at Steve’s response. He’s trying, you know he is. Robin must know this too, because she laughs softly at him as well. “No, Steve.”  Her smile dims, however. “That would’ve made things easier for me, though.”

Easier. Luckier. 

And then it all clicks. 

Robin’s insistence on always pleasing you. The subtle touches. The way her eyes would darken sometimes when you looked at Steve. How, only an hour ago, she had asked you for a kiss when she was still under the influence of the truth serum. 

You draw your hand towards hers and slowly thread your fingers together. Robin’s head spins, she finally allows herself to look at you. She finds your eyes staring into hers. They’re kind, understanding. You’re looking right through her in this very moment, and Robin Buckley has never been more afraid. 

“How long have you known?” You ask her, voice gentle.

Robin’s voice shakes. “Since Tammy Thompson…” She has to look away from you. She can’t do this with you looking at her. “She was in Mrs. Click’s class with me and Steve. I–I wanted her to look at me, but.. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him and his stupid hair.”

She pauses, tries to compose herself, and you squeeze her hand three times. Once to tell her that you’re there, another to give her the reassurance to go on, and the final time to communicate that you understand. There isn’t a reason to be scared. Somehow, Robin knows what the gesture means. Breathing in, she looks at Steve and continues. 

“And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor and you asked dumb questions and you were a douchebag. And–and you didn’t even like her and I–” Her voice breaks. “I would go home… and just scream into my pillow.”

Steve looks between the two of you. It’s obvious he’s the only one not aware of the underlying layers. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

“Steve,” Robin breathes out, pleading. She doesn’t want to say it out loud. She can’t say it out loud. He needs to understand what she’s trying to say. Why she’s been giving him hell all summer. Why she feels guilty when she looks at you.

“Yeah?” But he doesn’t understand.

Robin can’t say anything. She looks at him, can feel the tears in her eyes; she’s begging now. Steve’s eyes find yours, silently begging you as well to explain this to him. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong. He doesn’t want to be doing something that could hurt Robin like this. 

Your shoes squeak against the tile floors as you draw your knees into your chest. You’re not sure what else you can do. Robin has laid everything out for Steve. Your hand still holds hers and you try to quell the fear within you that maybe he’s being intentionally naive. Maybe he doesn’t want to believe it. 

“Oh.” 

It’s one word, one exhale of breath from a mouth that once used to say cruel things. Steve’s face softens, his jaw unclenches and his shoulders relax. He surprises you, showing nothing but empathy. He’s kind, he’s always been kind.

“Holy shit,” Steve doesn’t want to mess this up, but he’s never been good with words. 

Robin laughs. “Yeah, holy shit.”

He sighs and leans against the stall wall. It’s quiet between the three of you. No one really knows what to say now. Steve is still processing, Robin’s heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled, and you’re trying to figure out how to tell her that you understand more than she may know. She’s braver than you, trusted you with this secret, and it’s only fair that you offer her a part of yourself as well. 

Plus, it’s a wonderful ice breaker. 

“You have terrible taste in women, Robin.” You nudge her with your shoulder, teasing. “I mean, I’ve heard Tammy Thompson during choir rehearsal. You can totally do better.”

“She wants to be a singer, she has dreams!” Robin defends the girl, the change in conversation bizarre but welcomed. 

Steve, sensing that you’re trying to lessen the tension, gratefully plays along. “So what she has dreams? She can’t even carry a tune. But, more importantly, what do you know about taste in women, Y/N?”

“I see things,” you jut your head out, defiant. “Probably would’ve fallen in love with Nancy Wheeler had I known her instead of Jonathan.”

Their reactions are expected.

“You would’ve loved Nancy?” Steve exclaims at the same time as Robin guffaws, “You loved Byers?” 

You laugh. It’s a full, whole body laugh. One you haven’t felt in so long. “Yes,” you wheeze out, the look on their faces killing you. Steve looks unnerved while Robin looks disgusted. “At least Jonathan doesn’t sound like a muppet when he sings.”

“Tammy does not!” Robin is laughing alongside you now. It’s been a long time since she’s laughed this hard, too.

Steve rolls his eyes, his own smile overtaking his face. “She sounds like a muppet giving birth, Robin.”

“That’s what she reminds me of!” You snap your fingers and point at him. “You’re right!”

Robin clutches her stomach as she laughs. She leans into your side as you lean into her. Steve starts doing a terrible impersonation of Tammy’s awful singing, which only gets the two of you to laugh even harder. Steve gets you to sing along. He grabs the hand that isn’t holding Robin’s and swings it around as the two of you sing. Robin joins, laughing more than singing. It’s lovely. Absolutely lovely. 

And this is how Dustin finds the three of you.

He slams the bathroom door open, Erica right behind him, and stands in front of you.

“Okay,” he glares at you specifically. “What the hell, Y/N?”

You giggle at his disappointed dad stance. “I told you I’d take care of them.”

Dustin isn’t amused, which only makes your giggles turn to laughter again. The other two teens aren’t far behind you, descending into yet another fit of laughter. Hunched together, the three of you giggle breathlessly as your brother and Erica watch in disbelief. 

But you ignore their questioning stares.

With both Steve and Robin holding your hands, laughter warming your belly, you feel like a kid again.

– 

 The bus becomes your only option.

“I managed to contact the party.” Dustin had informed you after your laughter died down.

Relief washed over you. “Thank God–”

“But then my walkie died.”

“Yeah,” you had sighed and dropped your head down in defeat. “Yeah, of course it did. Why wouldn’t it die when we need it?”

Which leads you to now: peering out the bathroom door with Steve breathing down your neck and Dustin in front of you, checking to make sure it’s safe. A crowd of people flood the once empty hallway. The movie must’ve just finished. Everyone is talking excitedly, having no idea that five teenagers are currently hiding in the bathroom from Russians. 

You envy them. 

“When I say ‘blend’, we go. Okay?” Dustin asks the group, eyes still on the mass of people exiting the theater. 

“Because Steve dripping blood definitely will blend in.” You retort. It’ll be hard not to draw attention to yourselves with the way his face still oozes. It’s a long walk down to the bus station and you’re getting worried now. The mall closes in ten minutes, soon there won’t be any crowds to hide behind. 

Dustin doesn’t bother justifying your remark. Instead he studies the flow of traffic before giving his signal. “Blend.”

The five of you swiftly exit the bathroom and align your pace with everyone around you. Dustin guides in front with Erica while you stay back with Steve and Robin. Your eyes move constantly, scanning every face you pass. Thankfully, the people close to you seem innocent enough.

Erica looks around, impressed. “Well, shit. That worked.”

“Of course it worked.” Dustin is smug, which makes you wince. He’s always had a bad habit of jinxing things. You really wish he had gotten more of your mom’s humility and less of your dad’s ego. “Now we just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come.”

You shove your brother. “Can we not taunt our inevitable bad luck?”

“We’re in the clear now, Y/N. Trust me, in just twenty minutes we’ll be back home, where our dear mother awaits with her frantic arms wide open–”

“Uh, Dustin?” Steve eyes him nervously. Already you dread whatever he’s about to say. You guys only lasted thirty seconds without any bad luck. It’s a new record, honestly.

“What?”

“Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Steve winces with regret. He knows he’s about to piss both Hendersons off. “I might’ve told them your full name.”

Dustin turns to look at him, bewildered. “What is wrong with you?”

“Dude, I was drugged.” Steve argues, which. Yeah. That’s fair.

Not liking that he apparently sold your brother out to Russians, yet understanding that Steve hadn’t been the most clear headed when it happened, you grab his hand. There’s more important matters to deal with, like whether or not he sold you out as well. “Did you tell them my full name?”

“No, I kept you safe.” He says, with an air of obviousness that you smirk at. 

“Aw, thanks honey.” You kiss his cheek, not caring that Dustin is fuming in front of you. 

“Oh, so you can resist for your girlfriend but not for her brother?” Dustin struggles to keep his voice low. He has never wanted to shove Steve down a flight of stairs more. “You were supposed to tough it out. Like a man!”

You flick the kid’s hat. “Hey, he was very manly defending my honor.”

“I hate you both–”

Robin suddenly freezes, her eyes catching on something. “Guys…”

Everyone stops, alarmed by the tone in her voice, before you see them. There, standing right in front of the exit of the mall, are the two Russian men from the alley. They’re stopping people, checking their faces, looking for you. 

“Abort.” Dustin says, before one of the men makes direct eye contact with him. His face pales and you already have one hand on his shoulder, pulling at him to run. “Abort!”

Steve grabs Erica’s hand and motions for you and Dustin to run ahead as Robin guides. She pushes through the crowd of people and towards the escalators. However, when you get there, they’re roped off and blocked by plexiglass. 

You kick at the glass, frustrated. The Russians are close now. Robin, quick as ever, steps past you and places herself in the middle of the two escalators. You’re confused at first, but then you realize there’s just enough space for your bodies to fit through. Sitting down, Robin is able to use the gap as a makeshift slide.

“Let’s go,” Steve places Erica to slide down next, then Dustin. When it’s your turn, he nods at you. “Ready?”

“I’m so tired of running from these shitheads.” You say before launching yourself down the escalators. 

Robin waits for everyone at the bottom. When you’re all there, she waves for you to follow as you run again. None of you have any idea where to even hide now that the mall has emptied. There’s no one to hide behind, no corner to run into. And the goddamn Russians are fast, never trailing more than fifty feet behind you. 

Somehow you end up in the food court. It isn’t much, but there’s at least vendor’s stalls and restaurant counters nearby. Panting, you point towards the nearest counter. “There! Everyone jump over!”

No one argues, doing as they’re told. You make it there first and help Erica over while Steve and Robin help Dustin. Kneeling down, you motion for everyone to sit with a finger to your lips. The men have to be nearby, you can practically feel their presence close. Facing your friends, you grip your knives and strain your ears for any sounds. 

It’s tense. Dustin pants, he’s scared and overwhelmed and you wish you could offer him better protection. Steve glances at you, silently asking you what the next move is, and you shake your head helplessly. You’re cornered, there’s no way out of this one. 

The sound of boots falling against the mall’s ground approaches. It grows louder and louder at a maddeningly slow pace. Your knuckles are white from how tightly they grip around the hilt of your switchblade. With one flick of your wrist, you know you could at least disarm one of the men long enough to cause a distraction. You’d never kill anyone, but you know from experience that a cut to the shoulder is sufficient enough. 

You’re pulled away from your thoughts when a car alarm suddenly goes off. Its loud noise echoes within the empty mall. Everyone jumps at the unexpected sound, shuffling closer together. Deciding it’s worth the risk, you poke your head up to see what the hell is going on. 

The guards are standing around a red convertible. It shakes, vibrates almost, and they look at one another in confusion. The car continues to shriek its alarm, and while the men stand in fear, you smile. There’s static in the air.

Looking up you see El, with an arm outstretched, on the second floor. Her face is strained, her fingers clench in mid air. The look on her face is terrifying, and you’ve never been happier to see blood drip down from her nose. She twists her arm and sends the car flying into the men. You duck as it crushes them, rolls over the tables and chairs in the center, before spiraling into the counter next to you. “Shit!”

The alarm stops ringing. Everything falls silent. Slowly, you and everyone else stand up to inspect the damage. A tire rim rolls past, the Russians guards are sprawled on the ground, unmoving. There’s smoke from where the car has landed, and you let out a low whistle. “Nice one, El.”

“El?” Dustin turns around, wondering if he’s heard you right.

“She’s up there,” you point to where she had been standing, but when you see Jonathan now standing next to her with Nancy, your heart stops. “Jonathan.”

You’re the first to start running, and when he sees that it’s you, Jonathan wastes no time running either. He’s down the escalator in seconds. Your whole body buzzes as you run, adrenaline and longing coursing through you. The moment he’s close enough, you practically leap into his arms.

“Bug,” he holds onto you tightly. He buries his face in your hair and you breathe him in. It’s a familiar scent, a familiar warmth. You had been so focused on escaping the Russian base that you hadn’t even considered that he and everyone else in the party could’ve been involved. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tighten your arms around him, but when he makes a pained noise, you immediately pull away. It’s then that you notice the swelling in his head. The dried blood. Pressing your fingers softly to his face, you fill with concern. “What happened, are you hurt?”

Jonathan tries to shrug it off. He doesn’t care about what he’s been through. All he wants to focus on is that you’re okay, for once not covered in blood and bruises like he is. Wherever you’ve been these last few days, at least he knows you weren’t in any pain. “I’m fine, I’ll tell you everything later–”

“You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!” Dustin exclaims to El, now joining you and Jonathan as the others gather around. 

You don’t leave Jonathan’s side as everyone starts talking at once. Lucas asks why Erica is involved, to which you wince at. “I tried stopping them.”

“It’s their fault.” Erica points at Steve and Robin, clearing your name in the process, which you appreciate her for. 

Steve stands next to you now and puts his hands on his hips. He doesn’t even try to deny that he’s the reason a ten year old girl ended up locked inside an underground Russian facility. “Yeah, true. Totally true. It’s absolutely our fault.” 

Robin asks what happened to the car and Dustin and Steve explain El to her. They quickly catch her up to speed about the girl’s power, and you feel bad for the teen. It’s a lot of information to take in at once. Erica joins, having remembered her conversation with Dustin from earlier in the vents when he had explained the Upside Down to her. 

Meanwhile, Nancy is focused on Robin. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“That’s Robin. She’s a friend.” You step between them. When Nancy sees that it’s you, she quickly looks away. She fidgets with her fingers, overwhelmed with shame and regret. She hasn’t forgotten the cruelty she showed you a few days ago. You haven’t forgotten either, but you’ve never been one to hold anger towards others. Extending a kind smile, you nod at her. “Hey, Nance.”

Nancy looks up, surprised, but smiles at you as well and it’s enough. Maybe one day you’ll sort through the tension that never seems to leave you and the girl alone. Untangle the lines and threads that haunt both of you. For now, there are other things to worry about. 

Steve has started explaining the Russians now, and quickly it becomes clear that you’ve all been dealing with vastly different situations. 

“Russians, what Russians?” Jonathan asks you with alarm. 

“See those guys laying over there?” Everyone looks at where you’re pointing, the men still knocked out on the ground. “Russians. We enjoyed twenty-four wonderful hours with them.”

“Yeah, we ended up trapped in their secret base underneath Hawkins.” Dustin further explains, to which everyone’s eyes widen at. 

“It was fun. Spent my birthday in mortal danger.” At the same time the kids all wish you a belated birthday, which you salute them for. “Thanks, guys. I’m just happy I wasn’t gravely injured this time.”

“And that Steve finally kissed you.” Dustin unhelpfully adds before Steve is covering his mouth to shut him up. His face reddens, embarrassed and nervous. Jonathan is standing too close to him for comfort right now.

Nancy looks uncomfortable with this new information, Mike makes a disgusted sound, Max high fives you, Lucas cheers, Will gasps and looks nervously towards his brother, and Jonathan chokes on his own spit. It’s truly a very wide array of reactions, all of which are expected to certain extents. 

That doesn’t stop you from hitting the back of Dustin’s head, though. “Can we focus on the Russians infiltrating Hawkins?” Dustin hits your shoulder in retaliation, but he knows you’re right. He turns to Mike, upset that he hadn’t come sooner. “Didn’t you get our code red?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t understand half of what you were saying.”

The kids all start to argue and Steve joins in, making a remark about how he’s always bugging Dustin to watch for a low battery. More arguing follows. Lucas and the others demand to hear more about the Russians. As you try your best to explain everything, you notice from the corner of your eye El walking away from the group.

Her shoulders are drawn into her body, her breathing seems to be labored. You nudge Jonathan, pulling his attention away from the kids arguing, and point towards El. “What happened to her tonight?”

Jonathan is about to explain what they’ve been dealing with, but when El collapses onto the ground, you leave his side in a heartbeat to join her. Kneeling beside her, you’re cold with panic. She’s covered in sweat, her face is flushed. “El? Sweetheart, what’s happening?”

Mike and Jonathan are beside you now. Mike is in his own fit of panic, nearly ramming into you in his hurry to get to the girl. He turns her over onto her back, his face twisted with worry and fear. “El! What’s wrong?”

The rest of the group stands around El now, staring down at her. She manages to open her eyes, but you can tell that it pains her to do so. “My leg.” She rasps out, voice thick with tears. 

“Her leg, okay.” Jonathan takes action, swiftly unraveling a bandage on her leg. You hadn’t noticed it before. There’s a deep wound underneath the gauze, its blood has soaked through it. Nancy helps Jonathan with the bandage, and when they finally get it off, you almost throw up at the sight. 

The flesh is raised, angry and swollen. There’s a giant gash in El’s leg, deep and to the bone. The veins in her legs are dark and begin to constrict when something starts to move inside the wound; something is crawling inside her leg. It’s a nauseating sight.

Mike starts to freak out even more. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s scared for the girl, his eyes fill with panic. Instinctively you pull him into your arms, tightening your hold as he fights against it. 

That’s when El begins to scream.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 8k!!! You deserve all the love and more <3 also the holiday/winter theme is so so so cute!! Literally cannot even begin to describe how much I adore you and your talent and the fact that you give back and share your wonderful writing with us makes me so unbelievably happy <3

Can I request a hot cocoa drabble with Remus and the prompt wrapping paper from the 2nd list? Much love to you!! And congratulations again!!

I adore you! Ty for requesting angel <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 653 words

You watch out of the corner of your eye as Remus carefully folds the wrapping paper over itself, lining the triangle up against the side of his box. He curses. 

You giggle. “How are you so regimented and so bad at this?” 

“Hush.” He rolls his eyes, reaching across you for the tape. “It’s fine.” 

“The label is showing,” you say, trying to be gentle but only hitting amused. “You can’t leave it like that, she’s gonna know what it is.” 

“I’ll cut a square of wrapping paper to cover that part.” 

“Another patch job?” You shake your head at him, grinning. “Rem, I can’t let you bring these to the function. They’re an embarrassment.” 

“The function,” says Remus, cutting through the wrapping paper with a pointed slice, “is already going to have gifts wrapped by James, which always look like he’s let Harry do them, and Sirius is most likely going to bring his in bags. I guarantee ours won’t be the worst there.” 

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” you murmur, really only teasing him. You start folding a ribbon into gentle curves on the top of your box. “I thought I had this really competent boyfriend, but…” 

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Remus asks, but his laughter betrays him. The light from your tree smoothes out the lines of his face, his eyes warm and glittering and lashes kissing at the corners. You wish suddenly that you had a camera on hand, but there’s no chance film could capture how perfectly happy he looks.

Remus smooths tape over his patch of wrapping paper with swift, vaguely menacing movements. “I’ll have you know, I am very competent,” he says. 

“It’s gonna take a knife to open that with all the tape on it,” you observe solemnly.

“I am very competent,” he repeats, and you suck in a breath when he locks his hands around your ankles, dragging you to him with one swift motion. You can forget how strong Remus is, sometimes. He’s not very physical usually, but you’ve riled him into playfulness. “You ask Lily tomorrow who the most competent man in her home is, and you get back to me on what she says, yeah?” 

“Well,” you’re giggling, caught under his stern gaze and bubbling with giddy anticipation, “if you limit it to the men, the bar can’t be very high. Lily and I are more competent than the three of you.” 

“How do you figure?” 

“You can look at my gifts, for starters.” 

Remus has an excellent poker face. He squeezes your calf at the jab, and your nervous giggling intensifies. “We’ll see how you feel about your competence when you make your own tea tomorrow.” 

“No wait! Wait.” You get into his lap, trying your hardest to school your features into some sort of contrition. Smooth your hands up and down his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I love you. Have I told you I love you lately?” 

“Not without ulterior motive,” Remus says drily. 

Your lips turn down in a real frown. “That’s not true.” 

“No.” He rolls his eyes, grunting as he pulls you further up his lap. “It’s not, lovely. What, you’re the only one who gets to tease?” 

“Mhm,” you hum, teasing. 

Remus chuffs like you’re something else, but his lips touching to your nose are gentle. “So what if I’m not the best at wrapping? You can’t make your own tea.” 

“I can…it’s just not as good as when you do it.” 

“Some could argue that’s a much more everyday sort of competence, dove.” 

You make a quiet scoff of protest, not very convincing. Remus smiles. His hands stroke your sides. 

“So. We’re going to put my gifts under James and Lily’s tree without complaint, hm?” 

You feel your nose wrinkle. “Without any complaint? I feel like some damage control is necessary.” 

“Remember your tea.” 

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Right. No complaints here.”

[witchy-scribblings]

hibino kafka? more like hubbyno kafka (mdni)

❀ kafka who loves kissing you more than anything, and will have his lips on you at any possible time. this clown here loves to press the wettest smooch on your cheek just as much as he loves kissing you softly while you rock to the sound of the news in the background.

❀ kafka who's always texting you. his name will constantly be popping up on your phone, be it to wish you a good day at work, to complain about some inconvenience at his job, or to remind you that he loves you for the seventh time that morning.

❀ kafka who had always been okay with his bachelor apartment looking like a wreck, but since he started dating you no dishes pile up in the sink, the trash is taken out, and the cleaning is kept up with.

❀ kafka who immediately started getting extra toothbrushes, towels and other supplies the moment your relationship started looking serious, in hopes that it would incite you to come over more often.

❀ kafka who thanks his lucky stars every time he gets to wake up next to you because holy shit how did a loser like him pull a beauty like you? (it's fine we love losers 'round here)

❀ kafka who can never get enough of slow mornings with you. he often has you staying over at his place, and his bathroom is too small to let you brush your teeth side by side, so he gets the next best thing: you straddling his hips while you sit on the counter, peacefully getting ready for the day.

❀ kafka who gets a little insecure sometimes, especially before becoming an officer. he doesn't need constant reassurance, but there are days when he can't help staring at the mirror a little longer, a little harsher.

❀ kafka who falls harder still when you assure him that his dad body is extremely sexy, and that you love that he's so big and warm he's literally perfect to cuddle with.

❀ kafka who feels so much better when he sees how happy wearing his huge baggy clothes makes you. he has had to give up too many hoodies to count at this point, not that he's complaining.

❀ on that note, kafka who loves it when you're wearing one of his oversized shirts and nothing else - well, except perhaps a pair or wooly thigh-high socks during the colder months. After all, the central heating in his apartment is pretty bad, so you have to work with what you have.

❀ kafka who presses down on your covered hamstrings to keep you folded nearly in half while his fat cock plunges in and out of your soaking wet pussy; he's obsessed with the unrestricted sight of the filthy mess he's making out of your swollen cunt.

❀ kafka who sometimes absently wonders if you would be okay with him shapeshifting to fuck you better. he knows that kaiju no. 8 looks scary as shit and that he still has a hard time controlling the extra strength, but some twisted part of him wants to see how much further he could push you (little does he know his fans are monsterfuckers)

❀ kafka who ultimately is a pretty vanilla lover who just lives for those moments late at night when he has you sitting back against his soft chest with your legs spread embarrassingly wide while his thick fingers play you like a goddamn fiddle.

❀ kafka who, yes, is 100% a giver in every aspect of your relationship. but boy does he turn into a whore whenever you pay some well-deserved attention to him. he'll take anything you're willing to offer, but worship his body and his cock with your hands and tongue and he's done for.

❀ kafka who is not shy per se, but he gets really horny really fast if you start dirty talking to him. it might take a little bit of confidence for him to reciprocate, but once he warms up he's pulling out all the "yes, baby, want your mouth on me so bad", or the "i'm not gonna stop until you make a fucking mess on my sheets, got it?"

❀ kafka who used to dread laundry day, but will now happily change his sheets everyday if it means he got to fuck you good the night before.

brother i’m so down bad for this himbo he’s making me have unholy thoughts on finals week

[bunji-enthusiast]

hello, I hope your having a beautiful day or night! I was well hoping it's okay if I ask for a small little drabble or anything really with dogday. Where the reader accidentally hurts themselves pretty badly during they're journey through the factory, and then we get a protective dogday who won't let us continue until he helps us. Liked we helped him, I was see a protective dogday way to bad for my own mental health lol. Anyways I hope your doing alright, thank you for writing all of your little drabbles for this precious boy who deserves better.

Protective Guard Dog

Note || always happy to distribute the fluff ❤️

WC || 292

Sypnosis || You may be hurt but he won’t allow you to hurt yourself any further.

The machinery in the factory came very easy to you in particular, yet your memory didn’t always come to you that easily. 

“Ow!” You wince as you pull back your bleeding hand, your other hand holding it carefully. This stupid machine cut you, moreover how rusted from the lack of use that is. Easy to cut someone still, you wished you were more careful to watch where your hands were. A concerned voice interjected on the subject of your injury.

“Angel!” DogDay came over quickly, holding you close and checking over your hand and wrist. “You're bleeding.” He mentions, rubbing a torn thumb over your injury with a steady gaze. You shake your head, trying to reassure him. “I’m fine DogDay, I can still keep going.” 

As swift as it came he replies without missing a beat, “Absolutely not, you're hurt. Far too much hurt.” DogDay sits you down with force you wholly forgot he was capable of, “I won’t let you continue like this Angel, you need to tend to that wound.” 

You sigh and relent, waiting for him to come back with whatever he’s looking for.

DogDay lets out a strange noise of success, meaning he’s come back with bandages or other that he could possibly find. You didn’t really expect him to get this worked up over an injury, case in point, you suppose it was somewhat largely sized. Something to throw concern over in DogDay’s case, even though he was in a much worse circumstance when you found him.

“DogDay?” You speak, a little unnerved by the silence that replaced the usual air in the atmosphere. DogDay lets out a noise hinted by finality, not wanting you to abject it any further.

Just let him care for you.

[nekomanager]

HEAVEN BY YOUR SIDE ♡ SUO HAYATO

it's your wedding night with your now husband, SUO HAYATO

THEMES ⋮ f!reader, virgin!reader, just lovemaking because we can be soft girls sometimes, can't we? dedicated to my online bestie: @suosteacup

Suo might say you could take your time, but he'd been dying to have you in his arms just like the many nights he imagined you as he tried to get you out of his head.

You laid in bed, heart full of anxiety. Tonight was your wedding night with the the love of your life. He was fine in every detail and you weren't sure if you...your body was enough to please him.

You heard the door open and you immediately sat up. It was dark; though the moonlight slightly illuminated the room, it's still not enough for you to see a single figure. "W-Who are you?" You nervously asked. "Is that you, my love?"

My love. He'd been craving to hear those words from you ever since. "Yes, this is me." Your heart warmed up at the gentleness of his voice.

"That's great to hear. I'm happy to make you happy."

"T-That's...I don't know what you're..." You got flustered and he smiled wide.

The bed dipped a little as your now husband joined beside you. Suo cupped your face and planted a kiss on your cheek. "You deserve everything."

Suddenly, you felt your slowly fears dissipating to thin air with just him speaking so lovingly. You held his hand, the one right on your cheek. It felt so natural when you leaned into his touch. It was warm and soft. It felt so manly. Just through a simple touch like this you could sense how painters and sculptors would die just to get an art like this.

"How? How could I deserve all of this?" You asked, finally dawning in you that you're finally with the love you've been yearning for.

"Because I love you. I love you more than you could ever know." He said and chuckled a little. "Hmmm...looks like you need some convincing."

Your every urge to protest took the back seat when he planted a kiss so soft on your forehead and gently laid you down, hovering above you.

Your breath hitched as he dragged his lips down the bridge of your nose until he reached your lips. His kiss tasted so sweet like you're getting drunk on it, on him. His tongue exploring your mouth and teaching you things you didn't know before.

He slid your flimsy nightwear off your body, making you feel cold that you embraced him close to you. Suo's skin was so smooth against your palm. You felt the strong breadth of his shoulder and the dips and bulges of his back muscles. His lips on your neck prompted you to have your legs open to welcome him, involuntarily buckling around his waist. You were drawn to him in depths unfathomable and you couldn't help yourself.

You ran your fingertips down the outline of his face—his long lashes, high cheekbones, chiseled jaw and soft to the touch lips—trying to make a figure out of it. He's beautiful against your touch.

You cupped his cheek and he couldn't bear but melt.

Taking your hand away, he kissed the inside of your palm. "You do really know how to make me feel helpless don't you?" He brought your hand right through his chest where his beating heart was. "Look what you've done. I feel this much for you." And he'd been dying to make you feel the overflowing love he'd been keeping at bay all this time.

Even though it's dark, it seemed as if you knew he was gazing down upon you lovingly. It felt as though you could see right through him. You pulled him close to you for one long and fervent kiss.

He wanted to make you feel his love and everything of him with his every kiss as he explored you further, tracing his lips along your stomach as he fondled your breast, fingers slightly playing with your nipple, while his other hand ran up and down your thigh.

"Mhmn," you moaned, unsure, feeling his face in between your legs. You didn't know what's happening and it felt like a hazy dream with this darkness yet you felt your desire coming in even stronger.

"Be patient. I'll take good care of you." He said as he placed a sweet kiss on your pussy. His tongue joined, tasting each line of your folds, every nook and cranny. His hands languidly caressed your thighs as you writhed against his mouth.

"Uhn, H-Hayato!" You breathed out.

He parted ways from your cunt, wiping his face with the back of his arm. "You taste so sweet. Why're you keeping this from me for a long time?" With eyes trained on you, he inserted a finger inside.

"Is this okay?" He asked and you just nodded. "Or do you want more?"

"Whatever pleases you," you said almost running out of breath.

"Mm-hm...that's not what this is, angel." He smiled as he added another finger, pushing in and out of you slowly at first until he increased his speed. "I want what pleases you." You arched your back and moaned in complete mess. You didn't know what's happening because of the darkness, but the more you felt so unbridled with more need and desire. Just his long and thick fingers inside of you and your mind went black.

"Hayato-!" You screamed as you cummed and he took his fingers out. He kissed your belly button and shifted his focus on your breast, taking a nipple in his mouth while slowly massaging your pussy. You shivered against him, his fingers drenched with your arousal. Seeing that you're ready, he brought back his lips with yours, your fingers tangling with the strands of his hair.

Ending the kiss, he propped his weight on his arm beside your head. He aligned the tip of his cock against your entrance, gently sliding it up and down until it got enough of your wetness. Slowly dipping in, he noticed the way you groaned in sting and stopped.

"Hey, I'll be here. I got you." Suo placed a kiss on your forehead. "Just hold on me tight, 'kay?" You nodded your head and laced your fingers together. You buried your face into the pillow as soon as you felt the ache when his thick cock finally started entering you. He wasn't even fully in yet.

"Shhh, shhh..." He hushed, tenderly petting your head. "Breathe in... and out. Do you still want to continue?" he asked full of concern and you nodded, yes.

Placing a kiss on your eyelid, he continued moving very slowly. He moaned and closed his eyes just with how tight and warm you were as he finally got all of his length inside you.

"Good girl," he kissed your forehead again. "You feel so damn good."

Moving in and out of your pussy, he's starting to lose control. You're just so tight around him, but knew he should get himself together, for it would hurt you. With every pump, he felt like he's about to become undone a lot earlier than he expected. He tightly gripped your laced fingers together and passionately kissed you everytime you'd hiss and moan at the pain and pleasure.

It stung a lot at first, but with the way your husband touched you and kissed you like there's no one else in this world who could love you the same, was making everything feel so good. It was no surprise when you're now craving more despite. Your hips now following his every movement, grinding around him too.

The feeling of his long cock touching the deepest part of you and his thickness stretching you out, felt so painful and amazing at the same time, it's driving you crazy. Just like love. It was like you loved him from all the past lives you've had. Next you knew, you were so lost in him and in the way your moans and groans blended in harmony, echoing in your empty room.

"Hah hah, Hahyato!" You moaned and brought him to the edge. He's sure from the very moment you started meeting his thrusts and started chanting his name in a lewd manner.

He grunted. "I'm close! Y/N, I'm close." And he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry. I can't hold back any longer." He said as he you rammed fast, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head,

You called out to him even louder as you feel your own climax arriving. He trembled and hissed and you bit his shoulder, muffling your cry in your own release. He still moved in and out of you slowly and in a very soothing manner as you both catch your breaths, bodies still overcome with pleasure.

"I love you," he weakly huffed out against your ear.

You unlaced your fingers together, embracing him tight instead. Despite of his strong grip and very masculine presence, he's so soft and dear; he's like heaven in your arms, someone someone sent by up above like.

"Love you too," you replied and you felt him harden against your belly.

Suo bashfully chuckled. "Looks like we've got all night for ourselves."

[kentocalls]

endo yamato | slipping under this is all @bjorkshire-pudding's fault. was i supposed to stay absolutely normal after he pulls the pose below? nfsw. mdni. use of precious/angel/goddess. toxic ex (but he brings you down to light him on fire). would you like more from this? i have so much more to write.

you know he's there, you don't even bother looking now.  

the guy in front of you is the exact opposite of endo. your date has an  slicked back hair with a nice smile. he's speaking politely, ever the gentleman.  

if you had never, ever, met endo, you could give your date undivided attention. you could smile at his jokes, receive his compliments, feel the fire in your belly when he touches your hand softly,  but no. all you sense is the gloom and doom aura of endo as he sips, feigning innocence, on a melon soda.

you wait but endo does nothing,  sips the drink, eyes on you. 

he's stopped being loud and obnoxious. doesn't barge in when your date says something corny or touches your hand or scoots closer to you.  nope, all that is gone and replaced with this. drilling holes into the back of your dates head as he sits tucked away, hidden from view. eerily silent.

he does still text you tho. points out that this guy didn't let you order another pastry after you didn't like your original choice. and that this guy walks on the inside of the street like some careful kitten when you're the one that's worth diamonds. 

but that's okay, cuz if the date makes you feel happy and can fuck you better than endo,  he's fine with it. take your momentary pleasures, endo wants you to be happy after. he only ever wants you to be happy. he can tolerate you having playmates.  

he can accept you like being social, and that means you meet new people. he accepts you like to doll up and bat your eyelashes, it's game for you now isn't it? the way you ensnare everyone in your charm, your perfume lulling the undeserving, twisting them to your beck and call.

well, why this fucker isn't on his knees is beyond infuriating. 

endo clicks his tongue, clenches his teeth at how much your current date talks about himself. has the pig even asked about your day? bet he hasn't even complimented your jacket and earrings. did little piggy even on notice the color on your nails or the tiny rhinestones on them this time? 

why the fuck does he think talking to you about finances is more important? fuck an apartment on wall street when you're the goddamn whole view.   right there, in front of him. 

endo wonders if you're going to take pity on this blind pig. your date's tall, maybe he's packin', maybe he can take care of you like that.  since you won't use endo anymore. won't let endo be good for you like that.  fucking fuck the pig still talking about his portfolio?

what use is a portfolio if it's not full of sketches of your face? 

endo watches with a glare. you deserve the moon and stars and sky. you deserve a parade of praise and kisses and hugs and fuck fuck fuck, where are you going?

endo stands and follows, outside you give him the shortest glare, that lil annoyed look he understands as 'don't follow me.' 

he stops his right there. watches you get further and further out of reach. makes a call to one of his guys, "yeah just watch, report back to me. yeah every thing that happens. no not every five, every minute. you like your fingers? report every. minute. got it?"

you don't bother to look at endo when you're back in your apartment, he's sprawled all over on the floor, a bag of your favorite chips and soda sit at the coffee table behind him. he's munching on the same brand, watching your comfort show.  there's a smirk on his face but he doesn't make comment about the absence of the pig.

he knew that date was a disaster,  the guy tried to shake your hand instead of a hug or kiss? he said time spent with you was tialics just alright? who fuck would say that to a goddess?

you don't sleep well, endo knows it's because you're so wound up. use him, take what you need from him, he says it every hour of every day but nooo. that's not on the cards anymore because endo and you have "boundaries" because it's  "over" and you're  "not together."  

that he tripping your best friend at her wedding for what he considered was looking at you wrong was the final straw.  if he's honest, maybe he should've waited after she walked down the wedding asile to trip her but whatever, bitch had it coming.

she made your life hell under the disguise of bride of honor duties and endo knows scum when he sees it. you? the precious light of his life, you see the good in everyone.

you only saw the good in him too. 

and he believed in it, cherished it, harnessed it. made himself better because of it.  endo's changed, he doesn't smoke at least two days before he's gonna be at your place. no fights, no dirty shoes, clothes or hair. he is clean, soft, face well moisturized, pearly whites ready, lips buttery smooth --ready for your kisses, for your skin. he maintains himself for you.

he knows you notice, he's felt your hand on his face in the early morning when he feigns sleep when you're not rushing out of the door and accidentally stubbing your toe or hitting your elbow and he get's to hear the melody of your fuck fuck fuck. 

mornings like this, were you needy and the control slips. you allow yourself an indulgence, you're gonna blame the sleepy haze. that you weren't fully awake, it's his fault for crashing at your place unannounced anyways.  

entirely unnecessary, all endo needs to know, all he latches onto is that you dream of him. 

doing this with you.

so he behaves. the way the sunlight drips into your tiny apartment, he knows you're already running late. you're crawling roughly top of him,  less careful, less scared of waking him up. 

push your sweet and soft lips into his neck, curl a hand into his hair and pull. ohhh you're so mad at him. the delicious pain in his neck as you suck and bite, the slow undulation of your hips against his. 

still still still.

he has to stay so fucking still.

the second you know he's up, you're going to disappear. like trying to grab sand, if he grips, if he helps, tries to make the pressure better, you'll fade away. with no pleasure, no relief. all that energy, all that stress, all those pent up feelings dragging you down, snuffing out your laughter.

endo can't have that.

so he's extra still, let's you rub against him however you need, listens to you huff and moan and whine. you're trying to keep your mouth busy on his skin, biting, licking, teasing. you don't have to, you don't need to do this all on your own.

if only if only if only, hands itching, tongue heavy, its been weeks upon weeks, you're finally so close to him. you changed your shampoo. you wore the caramel perfume didn't you? it's scent even mixed with your skin.

and he's been so good this month, hasn't punched any of your dates, waiters or annoying people. hasn't even invaded your personal space.  hasn't held your hand, wrapped an arm around you shoulder or hugged you. hasn't stolen a kiss from you in days. 

fuck. your date had held you close in the movie theater hadn't he?  promised you a good time later and then what? settled for a goodbye handshake?  did that fucker even think to kiss you? did he even walk you back home? and now it's clicking.

your date made you feel unwanted didn't he?  that fucking pig.

why the hell is endo thinking of your date when you're the one moaning endo's name in an unsatisfied tone?

oh, his goddess, his princess, his queen. it's not enough, huh?  you've never enjoyed playing solo.  you keep moving against him, but it's barely building up isn't it? you need endo's hands on you, he knows. you want endo to do the work, don't you? he'd build it up so good for you too, doesn't he always? 

there's anger now, a shift in your tone and his eyes are open. why are you angry, what happened, he was here all night, protecting you from the world, why are you upset?

and it gets worse.

you pull away from, his hands weren't even on you for a full minute and you pull away, sitting, half straddling him. 

oh precious doll.

you're so tired. you didn't get the relief you needed, huh? stayed up all night, no wonder you're so frustrated.  let him take care of it, let him tend to you. and it's that hushed whimper, that shaky exhale, and his name on your lips. the quivering of the bottom of you lip, shame filling you with what you're gonna ask of him.

"endo..."  he won't let you, nu uh. just blame him after, that you were asking him to leve you alone, that you wanted him gone. it's fine, push all that on to him, it doesn't matter. as long as he can keep you happy, satisfied.

"i got you, i know, i know." and he's maneuvering you so smoothly. you move like water,  bending into whatever position he wants. fuck, you really need him. 

"that asshole was a let down right?" you don't want to know why he kisses you all tender and purposeful.  you don't want to know why he grips you enough to bruise. why do you like it? you look away, fuck. 

you broke up with him. 

your hands don't need to be pulling him in, your mouth doesn't need to crash into his, fuck he tastes like your toothpaste, smells like your skincare.

greed gets the better of both of you, messy, rushed, handsy. you feel him hard against you, that last bit of decency snuffed out, he's going to let you take what you want anyways, why stop at messy kisses and petting?  as he rolls his hips just right, your hand flies to his cock squeezes.   finger fumbling for the button of his jeans and endo, fucking endo-- pulls your hand away, kisses your palm, the knuckles, the finger tips.

"don't worry about that" inhales your protest away, kissing deep and hard, his tattooed hand in your hair, pulling you forward, relentless. he went a whole month without this. the softness of your lips, the wet drags of your tongue, the hunger you can't hide. the sounds you make, fuck.

his hand trails down, leaving goosebumps as evidence of his touch. the texture of his calluses hand sinful, he's so determined.  he's going to make you feel good.

he isn't a smartass about your wetness, isn't teasing and coy. moves his fingers deftly, has a crescendo to build before the sinster alarm clock drags you away from him.  he moves with finesee, knows your body so well, can tell the ache was unbearable. you're so wet for him. you needed him.

a taste a taste a taste, he wants a lick but stops himself, he'll have his fill after,  has to take care of you first,  encourages your sounds, nips at your lips when you try to hide them. he's not asking for much here, he's making you feel so good, isn't he? 

he gets to relive his favorite memory the second you grip his hair  harder and pull, the way your legs twitch, the drip of his name, the stuttering of your breath, the tightness around his fingers, the pulsing.  perfect perfect perfect. a goddess incarnate.

his goddess. 

yeah yeah yeah, you want a break.  you need to clear your head. this isn't healthy. you're so serious. 

but what is devotion without penance? 

part 2

[schrodinger-swriter]

The main cast of Hazbin hotel on Valentine's day

I know I may be a little late. I had to do some shopping today and hadn't had the motivation or time to get down and write until now! I apologize is some characters are given more writing than others... the truth is that I am bised for some characters or simply have more for them. :C

Regardless I hope you enjoy these, I likely won't do these large posts very often.

CHARLIE:

I hope you can forgive me for being a little short on Charlie's part, I had stated earlier what she would do for the holiday in an alphabet post! But to recap she makes you a mixtape with songs dedicated to you, songs made by her and songs she knows you like! The case is handmade too, covered in hearts as well as having a hand written note inside further expressing her affections for you. She would also give you some of your favorite candies! Expect to go out and do something fun and romantic too!

VAGGIE:

Much lower compared to her canon partner, Vaggie is not much of an enjoyer of the holiday. She keeps her thoughts to it to herself, though sometimes you might find her grumbling about all the pink and the red. She just doesn't enjoy the aesthetic all that much. However despite that she will still participate if she knows it will make her significant other happy! She would get you something small, like a stuffed animal and some flowers.

ANGEL DUST:

Respectfully stealing this idea from my mutual, but he already gets so many gifts and cards from his crazed horny fans. He hardly has the room for any more! Though.. he probably sells a lot of it for some extra cash, only keeping some of the candies. If you get him something, he probably wouldn't sell it. He's actually touched. In terms of what he does for you, he might treat you to a night full of him... in more ways than one if you're open to it. If you don't feel like going out he's fine with staying inside and watching some movies in his rooms... perhaps it's a deserved break after a rough day during the love season.

ALASTOR:

Similar to Vaggie, Alastor wouldn't do much. He understands the purpose of the holiday, but he simply. Does not care for it all that much. However I do rather enjoy the though of Alastor sending letters to his friends (Mimzy, Rosie, Niffty, ect). He even puts them in fancy envelopes and seals them with wax. How nice is that? If he can, he might even send a box of chocolates. Fingers, in Rosie's case. However, he doesn't do much to celebrate outside of that. That's assuming he sends anything at all, anyway.

SIR PENTIOUS:

He would go all out. He might even make a machine dedicated to you and gift it. He makes a mechanical heart that beats and gives it to you. He gives you all of the candy he can get his hands on, not exactly sure what you prefer. He takes you out for the night, to the nicest restaurant he can go to without getting jumped (because let's be honest... his days of trying to pick fights and climb to power has probably landed him with some enemies...). He's a total gentleman on the date, opening the door for you and pushing in your chair for you. Considering he's a little flustered that he is on a date with you, everything goes smoothly.

HUSKER:

He likes to stay in, but you can count that if you manage to get him to go out it's going to be a to a club or bar. Anywhere with alcohol. He'd much rather prefer a bar, since it's usually... lower in energy. He also isn't much of a Valentine's person, and he does show his disdain. He does tone down on talking negatively about the day around you, so there's that at least. A simple night in with an affirmation of love is enough for Husk.

NIFFTY:

She bakes you something and perhaps sews you something. A red throw pillow in the shape of a heart. Though you may have to tell her that's what you want because otherwise she's going to try something akin to the roach crown.... shivers... The baked goods are actually pretty good, and you'll be snacking on them for the rest of the week due to Niffty getting too excited and making too many. She will stab someone with a needle if they try to take one without asking you first.

LUCIFER:

He also goes all out, it might actually be a little overwhelming! He can conjure nearly anything he can think of, if his song was being literal! He wants to make sure you're loved, and that there's no possible way that you would ever think otherwise. Despite this he might rather stay inside, or maybe alter the home to look more fancy to make a mock dinner. Generally very sweet and you will be drowning in gifts from the second you wake up to the minute you go to sleep. He also makes you breakfast in bed.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

Pretty like poetry ◦ l.f

-felix always tended to hate the freckles that adorned his face, believing they were blemishes that deserved to be hidden under layers of foundation, but what will he do when you convince him that his freckles were pretty—pretty like poetry?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 2681

Genre ◦ Fluff with i think some hurt and comfort low on the hurt heavy on the comfort

Warnings ◦ Felix being kinda dramatic, he's also really insecure(felt), Weird dialogue (I wrote this half alseep please bare with me, babes), honestly there's nothing in here but some cute hurt and comfort where you spend the night at his house and you catch him barefaced🤷, spelling errors and shitty punctuation (you're on my page what's new).

A/N ◦ to all the people that say felix's freckles are like stars I promise I'm not targeting you guys I'm just yapping and that's what my brain came up with please don't like come at me 😭🙏 this is just a silly little fic I wrote to try to practice my "poetry" skills idk what half of this is but hey what can you do 🤷 also I really fuck with the mood board on this REMBER IF YOU LIKE IT PLEASE TELL ME I GET REALLY INSECURE ABOUT MY WRITING okay enough yapping for one night hope you enjoy pretty <3

Your relationship with Felix was still budding like a freshly planted flower, waiting for the petals to unfurl. You liked Felix. You really, really liked Felix, but there were still a few things you hadn't done with him yet, like bake brownies, sit under the stars while you secretly stared at him instead of the sky, shared an ice cream cone under the hot summer sun, but spending the night at his house was long past due, especially after the 4-hour movie night filled with giggles, kisses, and popcorn being thrown all over the place, your throat was still sore from the amount of laughing you two were partaking in. He made you feel safe, happy, loved, and that's all that matters right now, that, and when he shyly offered for you to spend the night, how could you refuse, with his red ears and fidgeting fingers making you just want to fold him up and stuff him in your pocket, never letting the gross evil world dull his sparkle.

You rub the towel over your hair before hanging it back up on the rack and walking out into the bedroom, fresh from your shower. You smirk, noticing the way his eyes widen, scraping over your body, adorned with the baggy clothes he lent you.

He isn't getting these back.

You flop onto the bed, bouncing into his arms.

"Hi darling," he beams, looking down at you with sparkling eyes and, well, sparkling cheeks too. You squint, wondering if what you were suspecting was true. As he tilts his face away from yours, you notice it in the glint of the light.

He still has his makeup on.

You furrow your brows. "Are you going to take your makeup off?" You ask, words feeling heavy on your tongue.

"Oh," his eyes linger away from yours. "No, I'm too tired," he smiles, but it's weak, fitting weird on his mouth. Concern worms its way into your bones.

“You shouldn't leave makeup on your face overnight, Felix; it can hurt your skin,” you say, carefully grazing a finger over his smooth cheek. He grabs your wrist gingerly, watching you with wide, glittering eyes.

“I just want to hold you right now. Can I do that?" You stare at him cautiously, debating whether you should press the issue further. “Please,” he whispers. You can tell in the soft hues of his irises; he's begging you to drop it, so you do, reluctantly, of course.

“Fine,” you sigh, your eyelids drooping as you pull the covers over your shoulders, shimming into the mattress to get comfortable. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, dragging you into his warm chest.

“Don't be mad, please,” he mumbles, leaving soft kisses on the top of your head. You turn over to face him, your brows turned in worry.

"I'm not mad, I promise Lix, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, darling, I'm anything but uncomfortable, especially with my beautiful girlfriend lying in the same bed as me.” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His deep voice makes your cheeks flare with heat, flustered beyond what should be scientifically possible.

“Will you stop trying to rizz me up and go to bed?" You shriek into his shirt, he chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.

"Rizz is an interesting word to use; I like that, actually."

"Turn the light off." You whine, pulling the cloth over your eyes.

"Flustered, baby?" He teases.

Oh, it's on.

He wants to battle; he's getting the whole war.

You don't know what came over you as you snaked your hand under the hem of his tee shirt, running your fingers across the hard ridges of his abs. His breath hitches in his throat. You tilt your chin up, resting it on his chest.

“Flustered, baby?” Your tone is smooth and sultry, his eyes are screwed up, lip curled into his teeth.

“Baby,” he chokes as you slip your hand higher.

"You sure you don't wanna turn off that light?"

"Yep, yes, on that r-right now," he stutters, scrambling to turn off the lights, especially as heat crawls up his ears, flushing across his cheeks. You giggle as the room spills into darkness, butterflies filling your stomach when he pulls your head back on his chest.

"You know, I'm surprised I still have a neck with the amount of whiplash you just gave me. I mean, there you were, all red cheeks and all of a sudden boom! Fingers, abs, and me, red cheeks," he rambles, squeezing you closer. "Your duality is truly insane."

You chuckle, loving the way his body engulfs you, pulling you under the waves of warmth and slumber. Silence creeps between the two of you until-

“Thank you for staying,” He whispers.

"Always.” You manage to utter right before-

You

D r o w n.

You don't remember when you woke up or what got you to the bathroom; you just know you're there, and with the need to pee becoming pretty overwhelming without thinking, you go to turn the knob.

"Wait," Felix screeches, slamming his body against the door.

 “Fuck Felix” You jump back, your heart practically hopping out of your chest. You gasp, holding yourself onto the door frame. If you were even a little bit sleepy then, you are wide the fuck awake now, your heart still thumping wildly in your ribcage.

“I need to pee. Can I come in?”

“No! Don't come in here, please!” He begs.

“Why? Felix, you only have one bathroom; if we aren’t close enough to use the bathroom in front of each other, that's fine. I just really need to pee. Now, can I please come in?”

He stops, waits for a few moments.

“You can’t turn on the light, and you have to shut your eyes."

“Felix, what?” You ask, exasperated, almost ready to just open the door and make him explain why he's tripping balls over something so trivial as using the bathroom. “What's really going on?” You're met with silence before a small whisper lingers from behind the wood. You could almost see it, his insecure frame curled into itself.

"I'm barefaced." Your gaze softens

"Felix,” you chuckle, “do you really think I care about something like that, especially at this time of night I can barely see my toes, let alone you, please?” You beg, your voice airy and light trying to dull is anxiety for the sake of your bladder and his dignity. “I'm coming in.” You turn the knob, but its quickly met with the door locking.

"No, stop it, y/n, I'm serious."

"What's the matter with you?" You huff, annoyance creeping into your veins, no matter how hard you push it back.

"I'm not ready to show you what I look like without makeup yet, okay!" He snaps, aggravated over something that seems so trivial to you. He should know you would never care about something as shallow as his bareface. He's gorgeous, with or without makeup. You know that, apparently, he doesn't.

"Felix," You sigh, your voice Is laced with sympathy, hoping to coax him out of this insecure rut he has himself in.

"Please," You lean your head on the door. Sometimes you wish you could serve him your heart on a silver platter—show him that it will only ever beat for him. Then, maybe, it would be enough to prove that no matter what he looks like under all those layers of foundation, it will never be enough to cut the little red string that ties your souls together.

The gears of the lock click under your hand.

"Okay, ground rules, before you can come in-"

You groan, banging your forehead on the frame.

"Felix," you whine, "I'm not kidding, I really need to pee."

"Y/n please," he whimpers, a desperate tilt in his voice, you can almost taste the anxiety in his tone, you cave, your heart cracking in two.

"Okay… You can't laugh at me-" You scoff, folding your arms in front of your chest defensively.

"You know I would never do that I-"

"See that's the thing! No, I don't, okay, I don't, so it's taking everything in me to open this door, so, please," his voice cracks slightly, "just let me say my piece... no laughing, no comments," he stops for a second as though he's thinking up another bullet to add to the list. "O-Okay, I think that's all," he says, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. You hear footsteps moving away from the door.

"Is it safe to come in?" You ask.

"Yeah," he clears his throat, anxiously. You pull the door open carefully, easing your way into the threshold, acting like you're walking into an active warzone. As soon as you reach the edge of the door, a hand covers your eyes.

He doesn't know why he did it; in a nervous fit of insecurity, he slapped his palm over your face.

"Felix," you yelp, "what the hell!"

"I-Im sorry, I-I just-" He feels so stupid—so pathetic—wondering why hes acting so childish about something as simple his bare face.

"Felix, can you take your hand off my eyes." He knows you don't mean it mockingly, but the way you tilt your words like you're talking to a rabid dog or an anxious toddler, makes embarrassment rip in the pit of his stomach.

"Fine," he mumbles taking his hand off your face, "J-Just remember! No laughing and no comments, o-okay, promise me!"

"I promise." You mutter as your lashes flutter open.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest, eyes darting to the floor. The last fraying string of courage he's desperately grasping at is enough for his feet to stick to the floor, but definitely not enough for him to look into your eyes. Heat crawls up his cheeks under your gaze, curling into himself—he feels so foolish like this—anxiety flooding his stomach, making his hands shake behind his back, something so minuscule, and yet he's having such a physical reaction.

You assess him, taking him all in, and as your lingering gaze stays on his face for a few seconds too long, he wants to die, fold himself up a million times. Just enough so you wouldn't look at him like that, just so he could ease the burning sense of vulnerability that rages underneath his skin.

Why are you looking at him like that?

Why aren't you saying anything?

He really wishes he didn't make that no-comment rule because now you're here, and you're looking at him, and you're perfect, and you're not saying anything.

You raise a finger to graze the freckle, which just rests underneath the fragile skin of his eye. His breath hitches, flinching away from your touch.

"Your beautiful, Felix." you gasp, voice filled with sincerity.

what?

 The earth tilts on its axis as he stares at you like you're the biggest dummy on the whole planet.

"Really?" his voice trembles with the weight of his vulnerability. It shouldn't be this big of a deal; one simple Google search and you'd be flooded with images of a barefaced Felix, but seeing it in person seemed more real, more raw. It's easy to be vulnerable behind a screen of faceless, screaming fans, but when it's you, it's different. No matter how much your eyes fill with admiration, his thick skull can't seem to sink it in, the weight of his insecurity blocking all contact with the truth. 

For years, he was told that his freckles were blemishes—that his skin needed to be flawless, a pristine, perfect white; Grade school, trainie camp, JYP studios, every fan-sign, photoshoot, concert, and music video. It felt like everywhere he looked, he was being judged, but getting it from you would feel like a paper cut turned bullet wound. 

"Your pretty Felix, but, b-but-" You search for the words, but they can't seem to come to you, an unfathomable emotion sinking into your soul.

"B-But, but what?" he stammers, nervously wrapping trembling fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away.

"I don't know how to describe it" you whisper, brows scrunched in such a deep concentration it makes him sink into himself, wishing you weren't looking at him so hard, like he was a puzzle you were trying to solve. Time seems to blur between the two of you; nothing else mattering, but the beating of your heart and the words you are trying to weave together in an attempt to make a metaphor viable enough to suit what you are trying to express, but you always came up short—sentences seeming superficial, inept, under your careful consideration.

You always knew he had freckles, the way they would shine underneath thick layers of foundation when the sun hit his face just right; they had always reminded you of stars, but stars felt overused, worn out.

Stars died.

Stars faded.

Stars were a million miles away.

Stars were something physical, but what he made you feel wasn't physical, it was spiritual, it touched you unto the deepest depths of your soul, only a feeling some form of art could invoke. His freckles were unique, his freckles were little promises on the skin, little angel kisses.

He was pretty like poetry, cause poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect; it was supppsed to make you feel something.

"W-What?" he whispers, eyes shining with a deep form of admiration—pure joy dancing on his features like a weight had been lifted from his chest, and he could finally breathe again.

"Did I say that out loud?" you chuckle, your cheeks turning a light shade of pink, bashful about your cheesy insights. Your lips must have loosened when you searched too deep in your head, "S-Sorry," you stutter, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid for making such a statement.

You're pretty like poetry, what the hell does that even mean? You turn your head to dig it into his shoulder, groaning into his skin and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you for that." He whimpers, voice crackling with emotion as his lips linger on the top of your head. You don't realize he's crying until you feel water dripping on your hair, you reel your head back surprised.

"Oh my gosh, Felix!" you cup his face to wipe his tears; it was as though a button was switched in your brain to go into full comfort mode.

"I'm so sorry if what I said hurt you, I didn't mean-" you begin, your heart crumbling into a million little pieces in your chest, knowing that the words you threw around so carelessly hurt him. He interrupts you, softly holding your wrists in his hands.

"They're happy tears, I promise." He sniffles, wiping his cheeks with the back of his arm, "T-Thats just the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me" he hiccups.

"Maybe that's because everybody was too enamored with your beauty to know what to say?" He lightheartedly shoves your face away, pulling a giggle out of you. "If you don't shut up, you might just make me fall for you." You snake your arms around his neck, ghosting your lips over his, "and what if I want you too?" you whisper, sparks crackling between the two of you, "what if I already have?" you beam, finally pressing your lips to his.

Fiction always used to tell you that a true loves first kiss was all fireworks and electricity, but even fairy tales forgot to mention, when your lips lock for the first time it isn't just the fire that ignites your soul, no, it's the overwhelming feeling that you could be separated by raging seas, roaring oceans, stretches of time, lumps of land, you could be placed on different planets divided by spills of stars surrounding the milky way galaxy, and he would still find a way to love you. It was cheesy, yes, but it was Felix, and with Felix, everything felt like poetry, because poetry wasn't supposed to be perfect it was supposed to make you feel something.

[meltedheartz]

been stuck thinkin’ about izu again (^o^)

tw: age gap (reader in his 20s, izu in his mid 30s), ftm!reader, black reader in mind, just a drabble tbh T_T.

when you first met izuku, it was at a coffee shop.

nothing more than luck, you’d suppose, when you spilled your coffee on the sidewalk and he had offered a replacement—free of charge.

after that, you start noticing that the number one hero is frequenting your favorite café, so you take a risk and start talking to him.

you fully thought he’d brush you off—you’re nothing more than another face in the crowd, after all.

but he didn’t.

he smiled at you, told you to just call him midoriya for now, exchanged numbers with you as you talked it up in that specific café.

it takes a little bit of digging, but izuku finds all of your socials.

you’re cute. you haven’t posted anything on a few of your pages for awhile, but he discovers you’re in college n struggling to keep a date.

so he gives you a proposal. a deal, if you will.

izuku tells you that you don’t need to accept, he doesn’t wanna push boundaries, but you wanna hear it out.

when he offers to help you pay for expenses in turn for you looking pretty for him, letting him doll you up and treat you nicely, you tell him you’ll think about it.

it’s embarrassing enough that you were actually considering it—even more embarrassing when you accept it.

how could you not? you were practically struggling on the reef like a fish, living alone in a studio apartment n tryna make it through college.

it was almost laughable.

‘course, in the following weeks, the pro hero says to call him izuku. takes you out to the mall to buy you some nice outfits and smiles at how nervous you are.

he can’t say he didn’t expect it. of course he did, when you two first bumped into each other, you stared like a deer caught in headlights.

izuku can’t say he minded it, though.

it takes months of him eating lunch n dinner with you, dressing you up all nice, treating you as you deserved to be treated, did you entirely get comfortable with him.

it’s around ten pm when you go to izuku’s place, izzy—that’s what you’d been calling him since the third month.

all sweet n soft coming from you. nothing short of gentle and caring, it made izuku melt whenever you called him that.

when you both get to the bedroom you get all shy, toying with the sleeves of the shirt izuku had bought you a few days ago.

your eyes are on the ground n when he asks you what’s wrong, he sees tears well up as you mutter.

“i’m trans.” it comes out small and a little upset, voice on the verge of cracking when you say it.

izuku only tilts his head. “...is that it, honey? i knew that, ‘m not mad.”

the words make you feel embarrassed as the tears threaten to spill from your eyes and izuku has to gently tell you that it’s fine—he can wait until you’re ready to take this a step further.

it takes another couple of weeks until you finally give him the okay.

n when it happens, he’s all soft with you. asking if you were alright, he doesn’t wanna go too fast, and you have to reassure him that you’re fine—jus nervous.

he spends about an hour prepping you, too :(

fingers you and licks at your cute little nub, tells you that you’re bein’ so good, sitting there n looking pretty for him just like he wants.

when izu’s fingers hit that specific spot—the gummy, soft one that makes you squeal and has slick running down his hand—he smiles.

and ugh, he’s so damn nice. gives you soft kisses and tells you that you did good for him, if you’re tired he can stop, he just likes seeing you happy n satisfied :(((

quickly, you shake your head with tears welling up and tell him that you’re fine, you wanna keep going.

and izu, being the whipped dummy that he is, gives you a kiss on the cheek and undoes the nice pair of dress pants he bought for date night cuz it was his day off n he wanted to do somethin’ nice for you.

his dick is nice n fat, a few veins on it with a slight curve.

the tip already has a few beads of pre-cum leakin’ from it and you can feel your poor little hole clench around nothing just at the sight of it.

n when he finally slips just the tip in—he whines. the number one hero fuckin’ whines just from putting the tip in your cunny n it already feels like so much but not enough.

after that, the months pass n now there’s news articles about the cute civilian that pro hero deku always gives kisses to at this certain coffee shop near his agency.

A/N : hihii! just wanted to get this outta my brain, reblogs r appreciated soso much n it’d be cool to have a mutual or two :p

[slytherheign]

LETHAL LOCKET | harry potter

PAIRINGS: harry potter x reader, hermione granger x reader (platonic), ron weasley x reader (platonic)

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: each time one of you wears the locket and how you comfort each other when things get overwhelming.

WARNINGS: depression, doubts, anger, and hopelessness. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is a gender neutral one and i didn’t specify which hogwarts house the reader is in. requested by an anon here. also, ron leaving hasn’t happened here yet. i barely got time to proofread this so please let me know if you see any mistakes!

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS LETHAL LOCKET (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

Nothing has been the same ever since you managed to get Salazar Slytherin’s locket from Dolores Umbridge. And now you were hiding in a tent in some forest Hermione led you all into.

You all knew that the locket contained a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, that was why you and Hermione deduced that whoever wore it gets irritated, angry, and extremely depressed. You came up with a plan to take turns wearing it and it was your turn.

You slowly put the locket on your neck, already feeling anger clawing its way into your heart. It was suffocating, corrosive, eating away at every ounce of happiness you tried to hold onto. You did your best to shake it all off at the moment.

“Are you okay?” asked Harry, holding your hand. You squeezed his hand to tell him you were fine. You followed him towards the table, sitting on the chair beside him. 

The tent glowed from within under a starlit sky as Hermione poured tea from a kettle into the cups. “How’re the mushrooms? Seem to be the only edible things growing round here,” she asked.

Harry could only grimace as he chewed. “They’re great,” he lied. 

“Make sure to leave some for Ron,” Hermione said.

You looked at Ron who was sleeping as Harry asked Hermione how bad he was at the moment. “He’ll be alright in a few days. Hopefully. If we could take him to Hogwarts, to Madam Pomfrey–” she cut herself when Harry glanced at her, giving her a look that confirmed what she already knew—it was not possible to take Ron to Madam Pomfrey. You would just have to settle with what you have right now.

You felt it again, that familiar weight pressing down on your chest. The world felt like an empty void, and the possibility of winning the war seemed so distant… so out of reach. You took a deep breath, trying to push the darkness away. Yet, depression started to creep its way in, causing your shoulders to slump.

“Take it off,” Harry instructed you, instantly feeling the change in your demeanor. 

“But I haven’t been wearing it for that long. I can manage a little longer,” you reasoned.

“No, Y/N. Take it off. I’ll wear it instead,” he told you and you didn’t bother to fight with him anymore. You gave him the locket, and he placed it on his neck.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, kissing his cheek. He smiled in response, yet again squeezing your hand that still held his.

“It’s comforting to know how much you care for each other. Especially during these times.” Hermione grinned at the two of you.

Hermione was agitated, you could tell it by the way she handled the fish she was about to cook. And you knew it was mostly because of the locket she was wearing. 

You immediately grabbed her hands tightly, stopping them from further stabbing the fish when she was supposed to remove the scales. “You know the fish is already dead, right?” you asked. She looked at the fish, realizing what she was doing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was doing that,” she replied, shaking her head. You could see the disappointment that etched her face.

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “I can cook for tonight.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Of course. You’ve already done so much today. You deserve some rest. I’ll just wake you up when it’s time to eat,” you replied, taking the knife and the fish away from her.

She teared up a bit, smiling widely. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate this. If you need any hel–”

“Hermione,” you stopped her. “Stop. Please, just rest. I know how to cook a fish. I’ll be fine.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll help her cook,” Harry offered, coming up from behind you. “I’ll make sure the fish stays edible.”

You glared at him and he just laughed. You did not appreciate the fact that he couldn’t trust you with cooking, but you did appreciate that he was going to help.

“Thank you guys so much,” Hermione smiled, hugging the two of you before going to bed.

You saw Ron covering her with a blanket and you looked at Harry to see if he saw it too. He did, and now you were giggling with each other at how your two friends couldn’t just admit their feelings for each other.

Ron was staring at the fire. There was so much anger and doubt beneath his eyes and you understood where they were coming from. You walked towards him, sitting down beside him.  He nodded, acknowledging your presence before looking at the fire again. You could tell from the way he breathed deeply that he was attempting to steady his thoughts. However, a pang of anger emerged, causing him to clench his fists.

He was still injured and you have noticed that he seemed more quiet and reserved lately. You wanted to ask him a question, to ask him how was he but you were scared you’d make him more annoyed than he already was. The locket on his neck wasn’t helping.

“I’m guessing you’re here to ask how I feel?” he voiced.

“Yes…” you replied, still skeptical of whether you should leave him alone or stay with him. 

You chose to stay with him.

“Well, how do you think I’m feeling?” he snapped. “What do I look like? Do I look like I’m fine?”

Harry and Hermione stopped their conversation as soon as they heard Ron. Harry stood up from his position immediately, ready to intervene. 

“Ron, I’m just concerned–” you told him.

“I feel horrible,” he interrupted you. “I feel like I’m a barrier stopping all of us from making progress.”

Harry’s stance changed, he was ready to fight Ron earlier when he heard him snap at you. But now, he felt heartbroken for his friend. He sat down beside you and Hermione followed him. Now, the four of you sat in a circle.

“What makes you feel like that?” Hermione asked him. “That’s not true.”

“Really? Do you think I don’t hear you all constantly talk about how long it takes until I get fully healed?”

“Ron, it’s just–we don’t have all the time in the world and we want to get you healed as soon as possible,” you reasoned.

“Exactly,” he said. “I’m halting all of us. You all wanna leave but you feel like you’re forced to stay because of me.”

“You are taking all of this wrong,” Hermione spoke up.

“It’s the locket,” Harry interrupted, trying to remove the locket from Ron’s neck but Ron swat away his hand. “Take it off,” Harry warned him. He was getting irritated as well.

“Can you both stop?” you vocalized. “Ron, I don’t know what it is that you want us to say but at least believe me when I say that we don’t feel forced staying with you here. Yes, we could’ve traveled more these past few days but we still made progress by staying here. We had more opportunities to talk and brainstorm together. And at the same time, we were able to get some rest from constant traveling. If we wanted to leave you, we could’ve done that way earlier. We could’ve left you injured, but we didn’t. We didn’t leave you, we stayed with you because we care for you. Now, please take that locket off before you assume things again.”

That seemed to calm him down. Harry tried to take the locket off from him again, but this time, Ron let him. Ron looked down, letting your words sink into his head. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. Hermione moved so she could sit beside him, rubbing circles on his back to comfort him.

“It’s fine. We all overthink things when we’re stressed,” you said, smiling at him.

“Thank you,” he spoke, looking at each one of you. “I’m glad I have you all.”

You were all gathered around the table when you noticed that Harry’s hands started fidgeting. He hid them behind his back but it was too late because you already saw them. When Hermione asked him a question about where all of you should go next, he only shrugged. At that moment, Ron and Hermione knew something was wrong. Harry suddenly walked out and you immediately followed him. Hermione wanted to go after him as well but Ron stopped her before she could even move a step.

“Let Y/N talk to him,” Ron said and Hermione agreed it would be the best.

You saw Harry sitting alone, visibly overwhelmed. His hands were grasping tightly onto each other, trying to fight off the anger and depression creeping in. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain control. The locket he was wearing doubled up the anger and depression he was already feeling.

"Come on, pull it together," he whispered to himself. He didn't notice you sitting beside him. It saddened you to see him like this. If you told your young self that the giggly kid you met at the Hogwarts Express back in your first year would end up like this years later, you wouldn’t believe yourself. But now here you were, beside him, watching him say positive things to himself when you knew there were little to no positive things left.

Harry hugged his knees. His eyes were still closed, and he put his head down as if he were trying to cover himself from the world. You teared up just from that sight alone.

That little kid who gave you candy on the train years ago grew up with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you were a witness. The war was far from over and each day that passed without finding a horcrux troubled every one of you.

You didn’t know what to say so you just did what you could do at that moment. You hugged him, so tight to make him feel that if he wanted to cover himself from the world, you would provide a second layer of protection.

His body stopped shaking and he looked up at you. That was when you saw he was crying. You wiped his tears gently with your hands, telling him that you were there for him and that you were always going to be there for him.

“What if everything fails and he wins?” he asked, hugging your body with every bit of his strength. He was holding onto you like his life depended on it. You hugged him back, kissing his forehead before putting your chin above his head. You saw Ron and Hermione standing at the entrance of the tent, their eyes were tearing up as well. You didn’t know how long they had been watching you and Harry but you motioned for them to go outside.

They joined the hug, and right after, you felt safe from every harm that would come your way. Moments where you felt safe only happen rarely, so you cherished this moment.

“He won’t win,” you stated.

“How do you know so?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know so. I just believe so,” you answered. 

You hugged them even tighter, whispering that it was going to be alright when in reality you weren’t sure if everything would be alright.

Maybe what you were doing was instilling them with false hope, but at least it was still hope.

And right now, you all needed hope so badly.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

message me or comment down below if you want to be added to my taglist! specify if you want to be added to my main (slytherheign) taglist where i’ll tag you in everything i publish in the future or just the wizarding world/hp taglist.

[s1m0nth3swag]

Leon S. Kennedy Scenarios

Some sweet and short Leon Scenarios, all inspired by the wonderful @leonw4nter who sent me some of her ideas (gen love you for that)

Three scenarios in this one, all fluffy and cute because Leon deserves happiness, and I will be the one giving it to him !!!

Info about the scenario at the start of each one

[Leon says he isn't hungry, then proceeds to steal your food | Was intended for Death Island Leon, but honestly, I think it'd fit better for Vendetta]

You glare at your boyfriend of a year as you shovel food onto your plate. There was a usual way of going about this. Leon would say he wasn't hungry, that he'd eaten at work, and that you shouldn't make a serving for him as well. Each time, you'd stupidly trust his words, which would inevitably end in him casually helping himself to steal parts of your food, all under the disguise of suddenly being just a little bit hungry. This time, you were prepared. You had prepared a second serving and were ready to defend your food with your life.

You trotted to the couch of your shared apartment, flopped down on it, and swiftly put the TV on. Leon followed after you wordlessly, and you just instinctively knew he was up to something. He always was. He sat beside you, rested his head on your shoulder sweetly - you immediately held your food up as his hand shot out. “You said you aren't hungry!” You huffed, rolling your eyes as you scooted away from the other defensively. “Oh come on, that was so long ago. I just want a little taste!” Leon almost pouts, though the mischievous sparkle in his eyes instantly betrays him. “Fuck off! Get some yourself. There's still more in the kitchen!” You respond, kicking him playfully as he tries to get closer. He puts on his best expression of betrayal, trying to make you feel sorry for him. “That's all the way back there! I've already sat down. It ain't fair!” He exclaims. “Come on, just a little bit, please.” He pleads, resting his head on your knee as he stares up at you. He almost looks like a dog begging for food now. “No, get your lazy ass up and get it yourself.” You simply say, rolling your eyes as you casually continue eating.

Leon stares you down the entire time, waiting for the moment that his usual food manipulation tactic works - you stubbornly stand your ground, though. Each time he opens his mouth to complain once again, you simply shush him and tell him the exact placement of the rest of the food in the kitchen. After you finally set your plate down on the small table beside the couch, Leon huffs as he moves to sprawl himself on top of you. “You're awful.” He pouts, snuggling his face against the side of your neck. “Just get your own food, love. Ain't that hard.” You chuckle and run your fingers through his hair, feeling his following sigh as the air hits your neck. His arms wrap around you tightly as he snuggles further against you. “Isn't fair.” He mumbles. “You're supposed to share with me and shit.” You giggle. “I made you a second serving. You could've taken that, just saying.” Leon doesn't answer, too stubborn to do so as he rests on top of you.

“Next time.” He mutters after a while as you feel him smirk against your neck. “Sure.” You laugh softly. “Next time.”

[Matching Pyjamas with Death Island Leon]

Even though Leon grumbles about being too old for childish things like this, you know that deep down he is more than thrilled as you present him the clothes you had ordered. A set of matching hello kitty pyjamas that you had bought on a whim - you definitely needed to learn how to not spend your money on the most random things (the fact that you had used Leons credit card was a minor issue for that plan though). He looked at you, sighing as he watched how excited you were. “Please Lee, you only gotta wear them this once I swear!” You begged, and you swore it was visible that his facade crumbled down. “Fine, fine. This once.” He gives in, grabbing his set from your hands swiftly. “No pictures, no laughing or I swear you'll regret.” Leon then adds, slightly glaring at you because he knew for a fact that you had taken pictures of him sleeping before - in your defense, the way he cuddled up to you during the night was just too adorable. You quickly nodded, though, even if you planned on breaking that unspoken promise. You were pretty sure Leon knew that already.

He insisted on changing in the bathroom, something about it being a surprise - he probably just wanted to stare at himself in the mirror and rethink all his life choices. You hummed excitedly, patiently waiting as you sat on the side of your shared bed. The second he stepped out you grinned widely, giggling as he came to stand in front of you. “Happy?” He asked, answered by you snaking your arms around him while nodding. “Extremely so.” You sigh, resting your head against the soft fabric of the sleep shirt. “Good. Can we sleep now?” He grumbles, his cheeks ever so slightly flushed. You knew he enjoyed this more than he wanted to let show. “Nuh uh! Gotta take pictures first!” You smile, and Leon groans as he realises that he'd be in for a longer night than he had planned.

[Re2 Leon being head over heels for you (and getting made fun of for it) No Outbreak!]

Leon can't help but grin widely at the text you've sent him, almost like he has to read it over and over again to have it imprinted on his brain or he'll die. He's taking his lunch break right now, nestled into one of the break rooms chairs. You've agreed to come see him and get him something to eat, because he totally forgot his food at home - he definitely didn't not take it on purpose so you'd have to come save him.

The two of you had only been dating for a month or so, but Leon already dreamed of a wedding and waking up next to you every morning - which had happened only once up until now. It had been a stormy day, and during the evening it only got worse, which led to you simply staying over. Leon still got that tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered how cute you had looked with your bed hair. If he wasn't such a gentleman, or if he wasn't so shy about it, he wouldn't have let you go the whole day. He giggles as he looks back through old messages - he especially likes the outfit checks you sometimes send him, he can't help but grin at the pictures and videos, his cheeks flushing as he thinks about how wonderful you look, no matter what you wear. He comes across the one where you stayed home for a day, and he swears his heart bursts with how adorable you look in your pajamas.

Leon knows he's getting weird looks from his workmates, but he really doesn't care. He's in love, he's allowed to be a little giggly and blushy, even if the others don't agree. Chris looks over his shoulder briefly, sighing a soft “simp��, and Leon shoots him a glare before lighting up at the sight of you walking into the break room. He immediately jumps from his seat, moving to give you a hug. “Missed you, Baby.” He mumbles, face snuggled against your hair, taking in the soft scent of your shampoo. “Can't have missed them much when you're on your phone the entire time looking at their pictures.” Chris speaks, and Leon would be mad at that, if you weren't giggling as hugging him back. “Brought you some snacks.” You hum, and Leon's heart practically stops in his chest with how cute you are - as if he hadn't been the one to tell you to get him food.

Moments later, he sits at the table again, you on his lap, because he insisted that the chairs would be too uncomfortable for you. He munches on one of the sweet treats you had brought him while you spoke about your day so far, Leon was definitely the happiest guy alive right now. He places soft kisses on your neck and jaw every now and then, smiling at you. He'd definitely die happy if it was by your side.

[bonny-kookoo]

Hi Bonny, still Unstable.

What about a moment where JK's memory gets triggered and its a bittersweet recollection, like a first time where someone properly takes care of him, but MC does something similar and he feels ten times more the effects because she does it so much better...? Or something like that...?

Thanksss

-> Masterlist

Jungkook is curious.

You've been doing something he early isn't supposed to see- you've always got your back turned towards him, and you always take whatever you're making back to your room whenever you go for a full on rest. Which is something he's been wanting to ask you for a few days now.

He wants you to.. rest with him. Not just short naps, or company while you're awake.

He really enjoyed that one time you slept on his chest- the weight of your body, the scent of you, the feeling of your chest rising and falling with every breath- it all had an odd sense of comfort to it for him he can't explain. Maybe it was the clear display of trust in him. Maybe it was just.. the fact that you were willing to be so vulnerable so close to him. He's not sure.

Whatever you're making, you're protective of it. You never leave it out of sight, you spend hours of work on it every day, and you take it wherever you go so he doesn't ever get even just a glimpse of it. It makes him wonder.

It makes him.. hope? Maybe it's something for him? Is it a gift maybe?

It could also just be something for Jin, or yourself. He shouldn't think too greedy- just because you're both on a friendly basis now, and share a nest here and there, doesn't mean you're mates or anything. You see him as a provider and protector maybe at max- he shouldn't try and want more. He should be happy with what he has.

He sighs, as he rubs his eyes, and moves towards the nest he made in a cooler corner of the ship, near the other corner of the windows. It's a bit further away from you, but it'll be fine- you probably wouldn't want to sleep there with him anyways, since it's cold here and not as brightly lit as the other nesting spots. That's fine.

Just as he settled in the blankets and fabrics, he can sense you approaching, before something is placed over his body. It smells like.. you- its clear that whatever it is, it's soaked up your scent over time. His hand grabs onto it, pulling it a little so he can look at it, and he notices how soft it feels.

It's a blanket.

You made a blanket for him?

"It's a bit short.." you giggle, noticing how much you underestimated his body size but he almost protectively holds onto it when you try and take it back.

"Its-" perfect. It could've been just a tiny baby blanket and he would've felt as if he didn't deserve it.

You early put a lot of effort into it, and as he sits up and looks at it, he notices that he's never seen you use this type of yarn before. "I sold some of the.. little animals. When we re-fueled." You admit, sitting down in front of the nest he's sitting in. "I saw the soft yarn and thought.. you know, since you said you only like certain stuff?" You shrug, and he just watches you with eyes unreadable.

That's because he doesn't know what to think.

You clearly don't know how much a gesture like that means to him. He's been given a blanket before, but never one that's.. self-made. He always had to work for it, pay for it- but you clearly want nothing in return.

You just made one because in your opinion, he deserves it.

You yawn, hand covering your mouth, and he can't help himself. He can't hold himself back from pulling your wrist closer, helping you into the nest before he covers you up with sweaters and shirts and blankets and even bedsheets. You gotta stay warm. He knows it's cold in this corner but he needs you close now.

"Kook- I'm gonna need to actually sleep though-" You laugh, finding his concentrated face cute more than intimidating now. He's really lost his rough edge to you now that you got to know him- he's no longer intimidating, even when he's upset or angry or whenever he's too rough or clumsy in doing things or handling you. He's not evil. He doesn't have any ill intent.

"Then rest here." He growls. "Sleep here. You're warm, and it's not that bright." He argues. "You need darkness for your circadian rhythm right?" He mumbles mostly to himself, before he gets up and rushes towards the control console, tapping away until the lights turn off, except for a few blinking one's and some of the screens, dipping the entire center in nothing but the light of the stars outside, and the blue-ish hue of the small control screens here and there.

Only now do you notice that in the dark, his eyes are kind of reflective. But what's probably meant to instill fear of a predator in you, simply doesnt.

"There. Now sleep." He huffs, quietly adjusting the nest around you as he's back at your side, the blanket you made back over his shoulders, when you smile. "What?" He asks, a bit annoyed and clearly a bit unfamiliar to giving out any form of affection.

"I like you." You say again, and he cringes at you.

"You said that before." He tells you back, and you nod.

"And I'll say it until you finally get it." You giggle, making him look at you rather frustrated.

"Until I get what?" He asks, but you just shrug, closing your eyes, settling to sleep now-

And he's left with himself for a moment or two, simply watching you fall asleep, before he settles down next to you as well-

Darkness and silence hugging you close, as you drift through the galaxy together.