#creep me out more than any of the other dudes on

[beardedmrbean]

20 minutes into Netflix and chill and he gives you this look

Ya you gotta watch out for those dudes

They're big fans of setting people on fire

[thatgenericwriter]

The Fake Boyfriend || Gregory House

Paring: Dr. Gregory House x fem!reader

Summary: When a creepy dude starts hitting on you in the hospital you go to the closest person for help

Warnings: catcalling and gross men

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"Hey sexy!" You turn to look at who's getting catcalled. Not finding any women looking uncomfortable. Actually, not finding anyone around you at all. No one but a creepy dude who is actively walking closer and closer to you.

'.....oh shit!' You turn around and start walking faster to the cafeteria doors. You pray that there's somebody in there that can help you.

"Hey pretty lady! Why are you walking away from all of this?" You shudder in disgust and start walking even faster to the now approaching cafeteria doors.

You can feel him getting even closer to you. And you're practically running by the time you open the doors to the cafeteria. Quickly scanning the room you spot two men sitting at one of the tables.

Praying that this works you turn around to confront the gross man who has now made it inside the cafeteria with you.

"Please leave me alone sir. I have a boyfriend and he's sitting right over there." You tell this man while gesturing to the men behind you.

"Yeah sure you do why don't you go over there and prove it." You take a deep breath as you hoped he wouldn't ask this. But letting out a shaky exhale you turn around and walk towards the table with the two men.

You hear him walking behind you, and as you get closer you can tell that these two men are actually doctors at this hospital.

"Hey sorry I'm late honey! Traffic was crazy getting here! I hope I didn't miss all of your lunch break." You slide in next to the closest guy to you. Which happened to be a ruff looking man in a suit. And as you took a second closer look you noticed the cane that he had under the table.

You give the two men a pleading look before turning back to the catcaller beside the table. "See I told you my boyfriend was here. So now will you please leave me alone."

You can tell that the two men now understand what's happening. The guy sitting across from you sits up straighter and has a more threatening look on his face. And the man that you had sat by lazily puts his arm around you and pulls you in to him more.

"This cripple is your boyfriend? Baby girl I could please you better than this man ever could." You felt the man's arm wrap around you tighter as this creep said this.

"Are you sure about that? Because I make a killer lasagna!" The man across from you rolls his eyes at the other man's comment before turning to look at the creep.

"Sir if you do not leave my friend's girlfriend alone I will have you personally escorted out of this hospital, and then make sure that you never step foot in this hospital again." This got the creepy man to scoff and roll his eyes before making an off handed comment about you not even being hot enough to be worth all this trouble. Before turning around and leaving the cafeteria.

As soon as the door shut behind him you let out a breath of air that you have been holding in, and relax into your seat before turning and looking at the two men that just saved you.

"I am so sorry for interrupting you guys! But also thank you so much for saving me from that creep."

The friendly looking man across from you tells you that it's no problem and that they were happy to help before introducing himself to you.

"I'm Dr. James Wilson and my lovely friend over there is Dr. Gregory House." You tell them your name and before you know it you're having a pleasant conversation with them. Well mostly with Wilson with house butting in with a sarcastic quick every now and again. But a pleasant conversation nonetheless.

That is until Wilson's pager goes off. He apologizes to both of you before leaving the cafeteria briskly. But not before sending a not so subtle wink to House. And that's when you realize that House has yet to take his arm off of your shoulders.

"I should also get going. My niece should be done with her test by now and I've got to get her home." You quickly scribble your number on one of the napkins on the table with a pin from your purse before sliding it over to House.

"Here's my number just in case you want to save me from anymore creepy men." You get up, after House removes his arm from around you, and grab your bag to start leaving.

You're halfway to the door before you hear house talking from behind you. "It's true you know!"

This stops you in your tracks as you turn back around to face House. "What?" You asked bewildered.

"It's true that I make a great lasagna. How about you come over to my place tomorrow night and prove me right." You give him a little smirk before nodding your head and agreeing.

You turn around again and are almost out the cafeteria doors before you hear House talking once again. "I'll text you the deets!" You shake your head in amusement before letting the door shut fully behind you and walking to the elevator to go get your niece.

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Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed my first house fic!

[kombuuuu]

Omg I just saw that u write for atsv!! So I was wondering if u could do one with a female reader x hobie where the readers quite reserved to everyone in public (maybe she’d been a spidey longer so she’s lost more people? Idk why she’d be reserved bc I cannot write for shot lmao) and people think she’s super cold but then they like?? Walk in, and she’s like open and warm with Hobie (it doesn’t matter if she’s loud or not) and they kinda just look at the scene in shock like wtf and Pav is sort of smug bc he knew all along and then it comes out that they’re dating?

It Sounds Nice coming from You.

Hobie Brown x Fem!Spidey Reader

“I totally called it.” “Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

kisses him cause he my bf (-compulsive liar)

People whispered about you. Spider people and the general public alike. Your city spreading gossip, rumours and misinformation to try and figure out who you were, but that was a Spiderwoman affair, every one of them dealt with it.

But having people same as you talk in hushed tones, glancing at you as you walked past. That’s a new kind of feeling.

The Spider Society didn’t exactly favour you, per se. There was nothing inherently wrong with you either, so no reason to get rid of you. But you were just so silent. No one knew a thing about you.

You mostly kept to yourself around base, never really trying too hard to make friends, you were well known enough not to be questioned. A loyal fighter was what you were recognised for, not your personality, your abilities.

There were still some people that managed to creep their way in though, their hearts so full of love, you didn’t know how to refuse them.

So you conceded. You let them in, and begged to any deity that would listen not to take them from you.

—

Hobie knew you as someone who could listen. Who understood him rather than challenged his beliefs. Not that he had any, but that was the point.

Your lack of input made him feel accepted in going on tangents of why he thought the way he did. And you just sat, and listened. A kind heart and an open mind.

Which eventually led to him falling for that kind heart. Tripping over his own feet to please your silent self. To get those small smiles or amused huffs out of you.

The occasional time you spoke to him, under hushed breaths and fond tones. God, he couldn’t take it.

The way your accent forms over each and every word, how your voice was akin to honey malt, sweet and addicting. Only giving him small doses, but he was the only one who got those doses. Only him, and you, and the words you spoke or times you listened.

He knows that people thought you were cold, or unloving. And maybe you were at first, maybe he thought you were. But he figured you out fast. Where you couldn’t talk, you could touch. Brushing your hands over his arm to get his attention. Linking your hand through his and dragging him away from people you don’t want to be near, he would smile down at you and follow along like a lost puppy. How your brows would crease a certain way, or nose would scrunch a little when you found distaste in things. He was a fool for you.

Where you lacked in verbal communication, you strived in every other category. So when some Spider-people decided to come to him, urging him for answers about you.

Telling him that he wasn’t sure you even wanted to be here—, Hobie would shut down the conversation quicker than thought to be possible. Giving a simple “She’s just quiet.”, and ditching the moment the words are out of his mouth.

It’d worked—, for a while. Ignoring the demeaning or conspiratorial comments made about you by spider-people a-kind. But eventually it got the better of him. Having him borderline snarl at the people who would talk shit right in front of his, or your, face.

“She’s silent, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. Peter 48 said she was like that ‘cause she killed her parents, made ‘er real quiet.”

“Jesus christ. Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s a freak.”

“Dude—“ One of the two spiders, the first one, turned to Hobie. Spider-senses ringing. Hobie stated back at them, deadpan and unblinking. “Don’t.”

The younger spider paled, quickly trying to backtrack.

“Hey— Hobie. I— Didn’t mean it. Was just repeating what I heard, ykno—“

“Cut it, mate.”

He squeaked, head tilting down in respect, the other spider following.

“Stop spreading shit rumours like ‘at. It ain’t fun when you’re the subject. ‘S it?”

“No.”

“Mm.”

Hobie walked past them smoothly, brushing shoulders with the kid just to scare him a little more. When he was far enough away, he heard them start to whisper to one another. “Fuck man, that was close. He could tell Miguel, and then we’d be out.”

“Jesus..”

He felt rather accomplished that day.

—

It was days later where you were brought up around him again. He’d been texting you, the upper half of his body hanging from Miguel’s platform, his wicks shifting every time he moved.

Miguel and Lyla were talking amongst themselves, clicking through holograms and sorting things out for potential anomalies.

Jess, Pavitr and Gwen had walked into the room chatting, Pav and Gwen expressing their excitement rather loudly.

He glanced up at them from his phone, you were still typing.

immm gonna b homein ten just be patient >:(

I’m patient 🦑

u werent 2 seconds ago

I don’t subscribe to consistency.

Or this slandering talk

ur consistently lame

also why squid

I’m never lame. Also, he’s cute

hes not real

Don’t do this me

reeeeeal tasty tho

What is wrong with you.

numnnum crunchhhh crrcchhh numnum ( > _ <)

Inhumane.

mmmmmm yummyyyy

He can’t die, he’s immortal

The ‘Texting’ bubble popped up on his screen.

“Hey, Hobie!”

Pavitr was running up to him, looking from his lowered position below the elevated platform.

He slipped further down the platform, slumping slowly as he greeted Pavitr upside down.

“Pav, my guy!”

Pavitr bounced on the balls of his feet, smiling wide at his friend.

“What’chu doing up there?”

His eyes darted to Miguel and Lyla, ending their conversation.

Smirking, he whispered to Hobie, “With the grump.”

Hobie snickered, gaining a disapproving look from Jess.

“Textin’ [Name].”

Just then, the next message from you showed.

immortal ??? how consistent of him to live

He grinned, typing back quickly while Pavitr eyed him knowingly.

He’s a squid, he’s more fluid than anything

ihu

terrivle joke

No, you don’t

And it was great

wtvr >:P

Hobie grabbed the ledge of the platform and swung down, landing softly in front of Pavitr and pocketed his phone.

“Glad ya ‘ere. Those two can’t keep it quiet, aye?” He said, pointing back towards Lyla and Miguel.

“They do argue very often.”

“Nah, Lyla don’t argue, mate. Just the hardass.”

Pavitr snorted and Hobie softly punched his stomach in jest, earning one from Pav to the chest, and starting a round of playful punching. Pavitr laughed as Hobie brought him into a headlock, scrunching his fist over the shorter man’s hair and rubbing it in.

They let up when they heard Lyla teasing Miguel for something again, giggling to each other at his expense.

He threw an arm over his fluffy haired friend and leaned his weight on him. Pav smiled up at him once more, brighter now. Before he could speak, Gwen’s voice echoed through the barren room.

“Same reason as you, I’m guessing.”

Hobie turned his head towards her, dropping himself off Pav and standing up straight again. Smiling at her as she reached him, and went in to hug her briefly. When they disconnected, he spoke again.

“Yeah—, No clue then, mini-punk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Neither big bad has said nothin’ to me yet.”

“Seriously, are we going to skip over that?”

“Maybe they’re waiting until [Name] is here!” Pavitr chimed in.

“What does mini-punk even mean!”

“Not exactly, Pavitr.”

Jess, who now was standing next to Miguel, spoke.

The trio turned to face the two elder spider-people.

“Huh?”

“We wanted to have a discussion with the three of you—.” Miguel put his hands on his hips, authority that Hobie only saw as a challenge emanating from his figure.

“—Away from [Name], she’s already been consulted.”

Hobies eyes narrowed, the atmosphere in the room suddenly shifting to something a lot less unfriendly, and a lot more cautious.

Jess caught wind of the younger man’s tense stature and shuffled forward a step, not unwilling to intervene.

“Nothing too bad, just—,” He paused for a moment, the dense light from the reflective floors making the contours of his face pop.

Hobie watched with batted breath, posture only slightly relaxing from the statement. The crease in his brows begging to be drawn, yet his pokerface was something to be beat.

“,—Addressing her.. lack of communication.”

A shiver raked down the brit’s body, physically restraining himself from chewing this man out with a rebuttal.

“Wha’ ‘bout it?”

His gruff voice was a stark indicator of his annoyance.

“Well, ignoring the rumours following her—,”

Hobie, the usually rather sensical man, was getting more agitated by the minute.

“,—We’ve noticed a certain independence that she holds. Something not many others do.”

The punk quirked a brow.

“So?” Gwen was the one to talk now.

“That doesn’t seem very serious, ‘f you ask me.” She laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. Something Pavitr seemed a tad scared to do. There was a lot of competition in the air right now, he wasn’t very competitive.

“Exactly, it’s not.”

Jess cut in, seeing how terribly Miguel started this conversation made her cringe.

“It’s not—, but,” She shook her head, hair falling prettily with every move. “,Her ‘independence’, has been more akin to ‘lack of teamwork’. In some cases.”

Gwen started to speak again, her eyebrows furrowed, just as Hobies now were. He was right about brewing with offence.

“So!—,” Jess cut her off before she could begin.

“So there’s no need for her to have distractions anymore. From now on, she will not be going on team missions. Just solo’s.”

“Wha—! You’re cutting her off?!”

“Gwen, it’s not like that.”

“Like hell it isnt! She’s a part of us!”

“Doesn’t this mean she’s going to be in more danger?” Pavitr spoke up, concerned.

“No— well, not unless—,”

“Unless!? You’ve gotta’ be kidding!” Gwen choked out.

“And what does ‘consulted’ mean! Did she agree to this?!—“

They continued to argue, Gwen and Pavitr advocating for your teamwork skills while Miguel and Jess had made up their mind.

“No communication,” He pinched the bridge of his nose “,Fuck off.” Hobie scoffed under his breath, turning to leave and storming out.

The voices of Miguel, Jess and his friends following him through the portal to you.

—

“You agreed to this?”

lIts not like they’re wrong, I just hold you all back.”

He huffed, exasperated. Not only were you putting yourself in danger, you were doing it alone. And letting some guy who has a borderline vendetta against teens be the call for it.

“Now, you know that’s not tr—“

His stern voice was cut off by the frown on your face quivering. A due sign of you nearing to cry.

“Oh, shit— C’mon dollface, c’mere.”

He sat down on your shared bed, scooting against the headboard and bringing you into his lap. A soothing hand ran over your back as you tried to reel in your embarrassment.

“I really didn’t mean to agree.”

Hobie sighed, pushing your head into his neck and watching how the rings adorning his fingers rose goosebumps in their path. “I know, sweet’eart.”

And he did know, the moment that it had been a meeting addressed solely with just Jess and Miguel, he knew that Peter had been excluded for a reason. That Miles had been sent after an anomaly as an unknowing distraction for Peter to chase after. He knew those two intimidated you. And the fear of parental disappointment was something they used on you—, young, sweet you. That only ever got hurt because she didn’t want her problems to hurt others, or herself.

You had opened up to him once. Told him what everyone twisted when they whispered sickening words. A story unlike the rumours crowding your reputation.

How no, you hadn’t killed your parents, or siblings, or whatever messed up thing people claimed of you.

You told him how you hadn’t been bitten yet. How, when your family was killed, you hadn’t had any powers. So you couldn’t save them. And it wasn’t even canon. Nothing could’ve stopped them from dying, but it didn’t have to happen. And that was the guilt that weighed on you. How no matter the hardships your parents put you through, a kid neglected of attention. You still would rather die a million times for them to live once.

And it’s all “would”, and never “can”.

Other spider-people don’t have to live with the fact their parents died for nothing. Was what you said. A messed up thought, no doubt. And one you felt guilty for. But the sole continuer of this sorrow-filled silence. Which has worked well enough to protect you so far, why is Hobie one to break that?

Because you love him, you guess.

His hands slid further down your back, resting on the curve of your waist in his lap.

His breathing soothed yours. The shuddering breaths you had been giving to stop your tears, also stopped.

“You wanna talk about your day instead, luv?”

“Yeah, thank you Hobie.”

“Love when you say my name, Babydoll. So pretty and sweet like that.”

Wrapping your hands around his lithe waist, you hummed. Beginning your recount of the day in the honeyed, reserved tone you’d always held.

—

Around half an hour had passed with Gwen arguing against Miguel before Peter showed up, Moles in tow.

“What’s all this about?” His slippers flopped when he walked and the baby carrier strapped to his chest shifted every time a sleeping MayDay squirmed to get comfortable.

“This—, This asshole!”

“Gwen.” Jess chastised her.

Gwen ignored it, pointing at Miguel accusingly. “—Kicked [Name] off the team!”

“Not kicked.”

“You said she wasn’t going with us anymore.”

Miles looked offended by the prospect. “Why?”

“She’s not kicked, she’s simply better off solo.”

“Oh, so it’s our fault then!”

“Gwendolyne.”

“All of you, stop.”

Peters voice ended the bickering, having learnt since fatherhood exactly how to use said voice. “We are not sending an 18 year old on solo mission against anomalies.”

“Since when did you have a say—“

“Miguel. You’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let that happen. That’s a kid.”

“She’s an adult.”

“When it’s convenient to you.”

Miguel pinched his nose bridge, growling under his breath. Jess spared a glance at him before wincing and backing down from the conversation.

“She doesn’t talk to people.”

“I’m sure she does, just not to you.” Gwen cut in.

“Yeah, her and Hobie talk a lot.” Miles prepped up on his toes. Pavitr smiled and hummed an agreement.

“Not that I’ve seen.”

Peter gave him another disapproving look. “Disregarding that. The fact you decided to not consult me on this decision is another reason that it’s not happening.”

“Consult? Like some council, please.” Miguel scoffed at him, rolling his eyes and turning to open a holographic tab.

“Yes, like some council. Someone’s gotta be the brains ‘round here.” The father joked, coddling MayDay as she cooed.

“I’m going to go inform [Name] the retraction of this decision.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oops too late, portals open.”

“Can I come with?” Miles jogged after Peter, hopping quickly through the portal, Peter, Gwen and Pavitr following. Not without Gwen flipping Miguel off as she went. “We’ll sort something out, she can go duos with Hobie.” Jess put a hand on his shoulder, watching as he stared off to where the portal had previously been with a sided expression before sighing.

“Yeah..”

“That went great.” Lyla dragged, popping up on Miguel’s shoulder.

“I’m a second away from shutting you off.”

The AI blew a raspberry at her companion, and disappeared.

—

He had went off on a tangent about some movie he saw, or song he’d heard. Hobie honestly couldn’t remember, he was too focused on you. The way your voice sounded, how open you were being with him when every now and then you would respond to him. The hearts in his eyes were probably from how heavy his own was beating. Staring at you like a sinner to a prophet.

You had moved down from his lap, now curled against his side, head leaning on his shoulder and hand resting on his chest. At some point, the movie you had been watching before Hobie showed up was unpaused, and serving as background noise for his quiet rambling.

Both of you pressed under a blanket to beat the cold, and the darkness outside your window being killed off by the lights strung across your room. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this cozy, this utterly comfortable.

Sparks of colour strung out of nowhere, neither of them really seeing it at first, up until it spat out Miles. He stumbled forward a little and went to greet you before taking on the scene. You and Hobie cuddled up on a bed, blanket wrapped around you both, fire going, people singing. He was exaggerating the last parts, but it felt necessary for something so unexpected.

“Hey—, guys.” The awkward teen managed, before Peter walked through the portal with the other two in tow.

“Woah, no mean to interrupt.”

Peter put his hands up in surrender. Hobie snorted, it wasn’t like you were incapable of affection, It just seems he was the only one who got it.

“I totally called it.”

“Don’t even speak, Pavitr.”

He pouted, before giggling and waltzing over to sit next to the both of you. Flopping down on the bed and turning to watch the TV.

“Oh my god, I love this movie!”

“Favourite character?” You inquired. A collective raise of eyebrows was shown throughout the room.

Gwen shuffling over to sit down as well, a baffled look on her face.

“The horse.”

“Pff- Max?” Hobie snorted at Pav. Giving the still rather confused Miles - Peter duo a reassuring smile. And greeting Gwen with a fist bump, she smiled wearily at him before her smirk filled out and she punched his arm in congrats.

Pavitr nodded and laughed, gasping excitedly when the scene on the lake showed up. “Perfect timing.”

You glanced up at Hobie, Miles and Peter finding somewhere to sit as well, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He smiled at you, bringing you in closer while Pavitr sat smug.

The air of confusion slowly dissipated into something accepting, none but Pavitr had really expected you to be so.. Open. But they came to find they didn’t exactly mind it.

—

Everyone had left by now, the knowledge that you didn’t have to go on dangerous missions alone anymore leaving Hobie satisfied and you comforted.

“You doin’ right, babe?”

“Yeah, Hobes.”

You gripped his shirt a tad tighter and yawned, eyes drifting more shut as the minutes ticked down. “Wanna go t’ bed?”

“We’re in bed, dummy.”

He shot you a playful look.

“Don’ ge’ smart with me, young lady.”

You smiled at him before he made the decision to shuffle you both down in bed to get comfortable, switching off the lights by the outlet. He moved back to you, letting his whole body rest near yours, and letting you initiate any contact wanted.

A leg wrapped around his, and your arm still picking the fabric of his shirt.

“Sleep, sweethear’.”

“Mhmmph.”

Hobies breathe lulled you to sleep, white noise against your racing thoughts. He watched you fall, your trust in him to keep you safe was enough to make a man weak. He smiled, looking out your shared window at the city life below.

No crime, no anomaly or misshaped villain could possibly drag him away from you.

—

BAMBAMBAM 🦑‼️

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

Hello i have a idea, how about Yandere Andrew and Ashley x Older Sister Reader with plot being something like

Y/N never cared about Andrew and Ashley cus she find them annoying, she never tried to be good sister even a little and didn't pay attention to their strange behavior towards her, bc despite her careless they loved her and always clings to her and ruins her relationships with boys and girls. And after another ruined relationship, Y/N finally fed up and leaves them, they of course tried to use manipulations and even threats in hopes that Y/N would stay and be theirs but all this things doesn't worked on her. After a two weeks Andrew and Ashley manages to find Y/N....with new boyfriend which makes their blood boil, bc Y/N is theirs only

Facts - 1. Y/N hates mom and dad as much as Ashley, thats why she lived with Andrew and Ashley

2. Y/N is not any better than Andrew and Ashley. Y/N kills some dudes before just for fun

So what do you think?

Thank you anon I needed the motivation TwT

TW: Manslaughter and Murder

Yandere!Ashley and Andrew x Older Sister!Reader

You’ve been fucked over since birth

Teen parents, one who was spineless, the other who was a manipulative bitch- both who had no idea what they were doing or how to use a goddamn condom

Yeah, you were screwed

By age 4 you learned that you can only really count on yourself in this shit bag of a world

Unfortunately by then, your mother already popped out two other crotch demons to ignore

They thought you were such an independent child, why not have another? This one is also quiet and doesn’t complain- so again!

They stopped having kids after Ashley came around- and if you’re going to give your little sister credit for anything, it’s that she taught them to use protection next time

Or convince mom to get her tubes tied and avoid this whole thing again, truthfully you didn’t care how they went about it- so long as you didn’t have to deal with any more annoying little shits

Ashley and Andrew were always clinging to, which was a normal thing you heard little siblings do….but god they took it to the extreme

Making up excuses to leave class so they could go bother you in yours, following you around all day, Ashley would try to climb you and cling to your back so she would always be close to you

You hated it, you hated it so much

“Y/N?…”

You groaned, jostling in your bed to turn your back to the little shit. You just wanted to sleep, it was the one time you didn’t have to deal with either of them but here’s shit one now!

Andy reached a hand out and poked your back, or where he presumed it to be under the covers, “Y/N?” He persisted, “I know you’re awake.”

“How the fuck do you know that?..” you mumbles from under the covers.

Andy reached his hands out and tugged on the blanket to try and pull it off, “You never sleep on your side, your body naturally turns you on to your back. And you have a specific look you make when asleep.” Andy tried to replicate the look, an open mouth and shut eyes. His lip twitched a little for authenticity.

You sat up, staring daggers at him, “Do you watch me sleep? Little creep—“ you threw your pillow at his face, which had the opposite effect you hoped for. You wanted him to feel dejected, walk solemnly back to his bed while you struggled to ever sleep again. But no, your little brother just laughed and hugged the pillow tight.

The noise caused the small form under the covers of the bed across the room to rustle. Great, you both woke LeyLey. The lump under her covers shot up, pulling at the starry blanket so she could look at you two.

“Ooohhhh, are we sleeping in Y/N’s bed tonight!” She sounded excited, crawling off of her bed and rushing over to Andy’s side. She noticed the pillow and tried to take it, “Give!”

“No way!” Andy held the pillow close to his chest like a treasured gift, “It’s mine! Y/N gave it to me!”

Actually I threw it at you, you thought- but the two were too focused on their tussling to notice you watching unamused. God at this rate they’re going to wake up mom and dad and then you’ll somehow get in trouble—

“You’re their older sister!” Mom would say, “You should be mediating them!”

Technically you shouldn’t. You should be asleep. Or not even born. Self deprecating aside, you would much rather go to sleep as soon as possible, and it’s clear Andy and LeyLey won’t leave unless you let them sleep with you.

So, with a sigh, you pull the covers away, “Get in here you two- and stop fighting over the pillow!” You snatch it from Andy, who gives you the look of a sad puppy you just kicked, “You’re gonna wake mom and dad.”

LeyLey looked ecstatic, hoping into your bed and climbing over you- making sure to ‘accidentally’ knee you in the groin. You wince, you may not have anything down there- but it still hurt! Andy was next, climbing up and settling down on the other side of you. He hugged your arm, smiling softly. LeyLey wrapped her tiny arms around your waist, as best as she could to hold on to you. You sat there, uncomfortably waiting for them to let go, only for their soft snoring to tell you they fell asleep.

Clinging to you.

You groan, this is going to be a long night.

You had hoped that as your siblings got older they wouldn’t need their big sister as much, oh how wrong you were

It seemed like the opposite was true- the older they got the more they needed you. The more they clung to you.

They always had an excuse for needing you, this happened so much that any friends you made drifted away from you

Which only gave you more time to spend with your ‘precious little siblings’

Eugh

You had planned to leave. To buy a bus ticket and drive far far away from your childhood home and your fucked up family

But then the quarantine hit

Mom and dad ditched, Ashley being the last one to see mom on her way out

But even with the two extra mouths gone, the rations drained fast and the wardens made no effort the feed the three of you

The laundry detergent looked tastier everyday

Besides the lack of food situation- Ashley and Andrew loved the quarantine

They got to be with their big sister 24/7

And holllyyy shit they abused that

Most mornings you would wake up to one of them in your bed, clinging to you like a leech

You stopped kicking them off after the 10th time, it just became a routine

Whenever you went into a room, conveniently they also needed to be in there

About to shower? Ashley needs to do the laundry!

Want to take a nap on mom and dad’s bed, Andrew’s looking for a book, he’ll even read it to you as a bedtime story. How thoughtful

It got to a point where it was just second nature to find them within 3 feet of you

Though there was only so much one person could take

And after the newscaster announced the quarantine would be extended for three more weeks, well….

You stared at the sleeping forms of your siblings, wanting to be 100% sure they were asleep before you enacted your plan. You pulled the covers off of yourself, quietly getting up. You’ve lived in this trash fire of an apartment for 24 years of your miserable life, and thankfully memorized the creaky spots on the ground to avoid.

You couldn’t spend another three weeks in here. The three of you ran out of food a little over a month ago, and you weren’t going to let paramedics find your starved corpse being clung on to by your siblings. Hell no!

Your eyes darted between Ashley and Andrew’s beds as you walked, one misstep and they’d ask where you were going- then everything would go to shit. Your hand slowly raised itself to the doorknob, quietly twisting it. You flinched as it cracked open- looking to see if anyone woke up. Ashley was closest to the door, but she slept like a corpse. Andrew on the other hand was a light sleeper, so it was mostly him you were worried about waking up. You gave a silent sigh as he turned out to still be asleep.

You tiptoed through the door, flinching as you tried to quietly close it. Once the door was shut, your hand hovered over the knob as you waited.

Silence!

You were just in the homestretch now. Your wallet was already in your pants pocket, really that was all you needed to be honest. You had no items of sentimental value to bring, no. You wanted to forget this place. Burn it to the ground in your mind.

You made your way to the balcony, Ashley stupidly left the key in it. You opened the door and took in the fresh air….well- as fresh as it could be with the air pollution. You looked over the balcony, searching as you spotted your escape. A rickety looking water spout. It looked faulty, like it was about to snap off of the building, if not that- just cutting your hand on it was enough to contract tetanus. But honestly, you didn’t care.

You hoisted yourself on to the balcony’s ledge, hugging the wall and swinging your foot over to hook around the spout. Success! Alright…you just gotta..

Hyping yourself up, you ripped the bandaid off and just got it over with. You succeed, you just have to shimmy down to your escape. You fail, you die.

Win-Win!

You succeed though, holding on to the water spout like your life depended on it. Which it did. With care and ease, you worked your way down the spout, until your feet touched the concrete ground.

“Hey!” A deep voice made your blood run cold. Turning your head, you shielded your eyes from the bright flashlight. The man behind it wore a uniform similar to the warden’s, he must work with them, “What are you doing?”

You needed to think fast. You looked around and noticed a stray brick at your feet. You whipped your head back to the warden, his eyes fixed on you as his free hand hovered over his gun.

It all happened faster than you could process. Chucking the brick at the asshole, he fell to the ground with a thud. You didn’t look at the body, didn’t bother to make sure he was still alive. You ran. And ran.

You’ve never ran so fast in your life.

You were free. Free!

Free from starving!

Free from any of this shit!

Sure you probably killed a man, but it was imperative to your own survival

Not like anyone knew it was you anyway

Ashley and Andrew were going to starve, so any connection people could make to your disappearance and the warden’s death will be gone soon.

You bought a bus ticket and high tailed it out of there

Got a new job, and saved up enough for your own shitty apartment

Sibling free too!

Life was…starting to look okay, for once.

We don’t talk about the people you mugged to help save up for this place though

That’s between you and whatever fucked up good there is in this world

….and the people you mugged. Them too

But- point is, you’ve got a job, an apartment, a boyfriend that you met through work

Everything was pretty okay

You fumbled with your keys, eventually getting them to turn the stupidly janky lock. God you needed to get better locks installed, the keyhole being stripped from years of wear and tear. Apparently the landlord refuses to get them changed. But hey, at least your door opened

You wish your door hadn’t opened.

Before you could take in the gruesome sight in front of you, the wretched stench of blood and decay hit your nose. It wafted into your open mouth, slack jawed from shock and grazed your tastebuds. You quickly slapped your hand over your mouth and nose, dry heaving to not throw up.

There, in the middle of your apartment was the cooling corpse of your boyfriend. His body was mutilated, blood being lazily cleaned by his attackers. A tall, messy black haired man was on his hands and knees, wiping at the blood- while overtop of your partner’s corpse was a woman with her own black haired pulled back into a ponytail.

Green and pink eyes.

….your siblings.

“Oh!” Ashley looked up, grinning ear to ear, “Y/N! You’re home!”

Andrew perked up as well, sitting on his knees now as he shot up like a meerkat. Both scrambled to their feet, clinging to your arms as you stared at the body in shock.

“Sorry for such a sloppy job, we’re normally cleaner,” Andrew’s words were trying to reassure you, but it was just doing the opposite, “He just wouldn’t die.”

“You really know how to pick em sis.” Ashley’s nails dug into your arm, her statement feeling more like a jab than a compliment.

Though your body was there, your mind wasn’t. It was running a mile a minute trying to answer so many questions. How did they find you? How did they get in? What’s with the candles? What’s with the weird runes on the floor?

You feel like none of those will be answered, and as your little siblings nuzzle against you like cats- the harsh reality dawns on you.

You’ll never escape them.

[blushweddinggowns]

“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”

Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”

That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”

They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old. 

Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.

Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?” 

Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her,  “Don't be mean.”

“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”

That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?

Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”

Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand. 

“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled. 

“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”

He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend. 

Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”

Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”

“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”

Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”

Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”

“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”

It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”

“See!”

Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”

Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”

“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”

Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”

Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”

Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”

Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”

“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”

Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”

Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo. 

But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”

It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”

And what did Eddie just call him? 

Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”

Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”

Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down. 

Angel.

Oh. 

Oh. 

OH. 

“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.

She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time. 

Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-

“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”

Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”

They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.

She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”

Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”

“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare. 

“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts. 

Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”

“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”

Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”

from the next chapter of this fic

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

[unclewaynemunson]

It takes a while before Eddie catches up to what’s happening. It’s subtle, really, an untold story in slightly averted gazes and barely-visible scowls. But he starts paying extra attention to it when he catches Steve resolutely facing the other way when they pass a storefront with a couple of mirrors in it. From that moment, it doesn’t take long before Eddie notices the pattern, the way Steve meticulously avoids basically every reflective surface like it’s becoming a second nature for him.

When he finally asks Steve about it, Eddie sees how his face drops, and he kind of wishes he hadn’t brought it up. It pains him to see Steve like that.

‘I just - I don’t really recognize myself, anymore,’ Steve says. ‘I know it’s really fucking superficial, but I used to be this hot dude, you know. The guy everyone wanted to be with. And now I’m just some guy, with glasses and hearing aids and a belly and a retreating hairline, and a gross scar around his neck.’

Eddie can actually feel his heart shrink in his chest. He hates this for Steve. He wants to make clear to his boyfriend exactly how beautiful he still is, not despite, but exactly because of all the things he just mentioned.

'Those things can still go together, you know,’ he says, playfully shoving his shoulder against Steve’s, pressing a quick kiss against the scar on his neck. ‘If you ask me, you’re still the hottest dude in all of Hawkins. You’ll always be.’

And slowly, a smile starts creeping over Steve’s face. ‘You sure about that?’

Eddie nods, not looking away. ‘Hundred percent.’

Since that day, Eddie starts keeping a stack of post-its and a pen in the bathroom. Every night before he goes to bed, he sticks a new note on the bathroom mirror: “I love the color of your eyes.” “I love your soft tummy.” “Your hearing aids make you look like a sexy cyborg.” “Did you know your nose looks biteable AF?” “Your moles are more beautiful than any constellation.” The stream of compliments is endless, but not once does Eddie have to make an effort to come up with something new.

And that’s how the mirror stops being Steve’s enemy. Because ever since the first note, it’s become his new favorite thing to look in the mirror, the very first thing he wants to do when he wakes up in the morning. The messages always manage to surprise him, tirelessly keep pointing out new things about him, always in the most Eddie-ish way possible: funny, sweet, unhinged, caring, horny, genuine... And always so full of love. The one thing he can always count on.

But one morning, a day after he and Eddie got into a heated fight with each other, Steve steps into the bathroom with dread clawing at his stomach. He knows the mirror will be empty. Eddie was so fucking angry at him last night.

Unexpectedly, he does spot a note, a purple post-it with Eddie’s handwriting on it. He feels the overwhelming urge to cover his eyes, because this time, there will be something mean on it, no doubt. Eddie will tear apart what used to be the best part of Steve’s day with one single sentence. He steps closer, swallows, gets ready to face the music.

“I’m still mad at you but godDAMN why do you look so fucking HOT when you’re shouting at me that’s fucking unfair.”

Steve stares at the note for a full five minutes before taking it off the mirror and adding it to his ever-growing post-it collection. He’s completely overwhelmed by the love Eddie showed him even while he was angry. By the certainty behind that simple gesture. The unwavering commitment in Eddie’s actions.

Steve wakes Eddie up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. They talk it out, like they always do, and he buys a ring for Eddie the next day.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

[lxvsiick]

I KEEP THINKING OF YOU | HAN TAESAN X READER

PAIRING: best friend! han taesan x best friend! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Han Taesan keeps thinking about his best friend, Y/n.

GENRE: best friends, one-sided crush, imagine, short story

WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

A/N: this is an apology for THE STARS ARE ALL ASLEEP 🙇🏻‍♀️ i love writing stories/imagines related to songs -- the song for this story is an unreleased, self-composed song by none other than BOYNEXTDOOR's Han Taesan called I KEEP THINKING ABOUT YOU,, he's so talented ,, let me know if you want a pt 2 for this imagine or any of my imagines/short stories! ENJOY!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The bustling cafeteria was filled with the hum of voices, laughter, and the clatter of trays. Taesan sat at his usual table with his friends, but his mind was far from the conversation at hand. Instead, his gaze was fixed across the room on Y/n, who was laughing with her group of friends. She was always surrounded by people—always so effortlessly popular.

Four hours, he thought with a quiet smirk. She never lets me forget that she’s four hours older than me. It was a running joke between them since they’d known each other quite literally their entire lives. Their moms had been best friends long before they were born, so their friendship felt inevitable, woven into the fabric of their childhood.

But somewhere along the way—probably around age ten, when she had scared off those bullies who were picking on him—something had shifted for him. He’d started to see her differently. And now, in high school, that crush had only grown more intense, even though she was often playfully mean to him. The teasing? He pretended not to notice most of the time.

“Dude, are you even listening?” Jungwon snapped his fingers in front of Taesan's face, pulling him back to reality.

“Huh?” he blinked, tearing his gaze away from Y/n. His friends exchanged knowing glances.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time,” Leehan teased, smirking. “You’re not exactly subtle, man.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Taesan mumbled, but his ears turned red, betraying him.

“Sure, you weren’t.” Jo leaned in with a grin. “You’re, like, obsessed with her. Why don’t you just ask her out already?”

“She’s my best friend,” he muttered defensively, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, right.” Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You’ve been crushing on her since middle school. Everyone can see it but her.”

Taesan sighed, glancing back across the room at Y/n. She was telling some story to her friends, her usual energy drawing people in like a magnet. He felt a pang of annoyance—not at her, but at how popular she was. She never seemed to have time just for him anymore. There was always someone else around her, always something else going on.

“Ugh, she’s so... popular,” he grumbled, more to himself than to his friends. “Why does everyone like her so much?”

“Probably because she’s, you know... fun,” Leehan replied sarcastically. “Unlike a certain someone who spends lunch staring at her from a distance.”

“Shut up,” Taesan shot back, though there wasn’t much bite to it.

Before his friends could continue teasing him, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Students began to gather their things, the cafeteria turning into a flurry of movement. Taesan stood up with a sigh, glancing one last time at Y/n as she waved goodbye to her friends.

“Let’s go, lover boy,” Jo said, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they headed toward the door. “You can pine over her later.”

As they walked out, Taesan couldn’t help but feel a familiar frustration creeping in. No matter how long they’d been best friends, no matter how close they were, there was a growing part of him that wanted more—something he wasn’t sure she’d ever want. And that thought gnawed at him as he followed his friends back to class.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The end-of-day bustle filled the school hallway as students rushed to leave, eager to escape the long day. Taesan and Y/n walked side by side, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm. But while she was chatting casually about something he could barely register, his mind was far away, lost in thoughts about her—even though she was right there beside him.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the way her hair fell over her shoulders and how effortlessly she smiled when she talked. He wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying, though. All he could think about was how, after all these years, his feelings for her kept growing, even though he had no idea if she saw him the same way.

“Hey, you okay?” Y/n nudged him gently, breaking him out of his daze. “You’re totally spacing out. What are you thinking about?”

He blinked, trying to come up with an excuse. “Uh... just, you know... school stuff.”

“School stuff?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You hate school stuff.”

“Yeah, well... maybe I’m trying to focus more,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

She laughed, and for a moment, he thought he had dodged the question. But just as they reached the doors to the outside, her attention was drawn to something—or rather, someone—else.

Standing by the steps was Lee Heeseung, the guy everyone liked. And by the way Y/n straightened up, her steps slowing slightly, it was obvious she was no exception.

“Oh... hey, Heeseung sunbae,” she greeted him, her voice shy, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. She gave a small wave, her cheeks pink.

Heeseung smirked in that effortlessly cool way he always did, giving her a nod and a flirty wave in return. “Hey, Y/n,” he drawled, his eyes lingering on her a little too long before he sauntered off.

Taesan watched the whole exchange, an unpleasant knot forming in his stomach. His jaw clenched. Of course, he thought bitterly, it’s him again.

As they resumed walking, he couldn’t help but let the words slip out. “What do you even see in that guy?”

Y/n glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

“I mean, I’ve heard rumors about him. People say he’s a player.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but the bitterness seeped through.

She frowned, her defenses instantly rising. “That’s none of your business. You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you,” he shot back, frustrated.

“Just let it go,” she said sharply, turning her face away from him.

Silence fell between them as they walked, the tension thick in the air. He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, but his mind kept racing back to her. Why did she have to like him? What was so special about Lee Heeseung? The frustration bubbled inside him, but more than that, the longing grew deeper.

His thoughts were interrupted when Y/n spoke up again. “You’re spacing out again,” she pointed out, glancing at him suspiciously. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, trying to snap out of it.

She gave him a sideways glance, clearly not convinced. “Are you thinking about a girl?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What? No!”

She smirked, her mood shifting. “Is it Wonyoung from Class C? I saw you talking to her last week. Come on, you can tell me,” she teased.

He looked at her like she’d just said something insane. “What? No, it’s not—why would I—”

“Whatever,” she muttered, cutting him off and rolling her eyes. She stormed ahead a few steps, grumbling under her breath.

He watched her walk away, his heart sinking as he slowed his pace behind her. She had no idea what was really going on in his head, no clue how he felt about her. As he stared at her retreating figure, that familiar ache filled his chest, the longing settling in as it always did.

If only she knew, he thought, but then again, maybe it was better that she didn’t.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

Taesan sat at his desk, headphones on, staring blankly at his notebook while a slow, steady beat thumped in his ears. He wasn't really focusing on the music or the homework in front of him—his mind kept drifting to Y/n, as it always did.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open, and a whirlwind of energy rushed in. Y/n, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide, headed straight for him, barely paying attention to anyone else.

He pulled off his headphones, startled. “Hey, what’s up?”

Her excitement was contagious, and before he could ask anything else, she leaned on his desk, practically bouncing on her feet. “You won’t believe what just happened!” she said, her voice high with glee.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, both curious and concerned. Whenever she was this excited, it usually meant something big.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him with a dreamy expression, her cheeks flushed. “Heeseung sunbae—he asked me out on a date!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

For a moment, he was frozen. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t. His heart sank, and an unpleasant, heavy feeling settled in his chest. He tried to find something to say, anything, but nothing came out. All he could do was force a tight, bitter smile onto his face, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s... that’s great,” he mumbled, trying to sound supportive, though the words tasted bitter.

She didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. “I mean, can you believe it? Heeseung sunbae actually asked me! It’s like something out of a movie!” She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, clearly lost in the daydream of what her date might be like.

Taesan felt his stomach twist. Why him? Of all people, it had to be that guy—the one everyone liked, the one who didn’t even know how special she really was. The one who couldn’t possibly care about her the way he did.

He stared down at his notebook, trying to block out the envy and frustration rising inside him. But her words kept echoing in his head, over and over again.

“So... what are you gonna wear?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, though every syllable hurt to say.

“Oh, I don’t know yet,” she gushed, lost in her thoughts. “But it’s gonna be perfect, I just know it.”

He nodded absentmindedly, his mind drifting far away from the conversation. Please let this date suck, he thought bitterly. Please let him be a total jerk.

But instead of voicing any of it, he just sat there, smiling that fake smile, while inside, he cursed the senior, the date, and everything else that kept pulling her away from him. Why does it have to be him? Why can’t it be me?

As she rambled on about her upcoming date, he sighed quietly to himself. He wanted to be happy for her—he really did—but the truth was, the only thing he could think about was how much he wished it was him she was excited about.

And with every word she said, the bitter feeling grew stronger.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The room was a whirlwind of clothes, shoes, and accessories scattered all over. Y/n darted from her closet to the bed, tossing different outfits across it, completely absorbed in her task. She held up a dress, then tossed it aside, muttering something about it being “too much,” before grabbing another option.

Taesan sat at the edge of her bed, watching her, though his mind wasn’t on the clothes she was throwing around. It was on her. Every time she ran back and forth, the same thoughts swirled in his head, thoughts he’d been trying to push away but couldn’t. She looks so happy about this stupid date. Why him?

He barely registered when she asked for his opinion on an outfit, just nodding absentmindedly, his eyes following her but his mind far away.

Y/n stopped in the middle of the room, a pair of earrings in one hand, staring at him with suspicion. She’d been talking to him, but it was clear now that he wasn’t paying attention. She dropped the earrings on the bed and slowly walked toward him.

He didn’t notice her coming until she crouched down right in front of him, meeting his eye level. “Hello?” she said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Startled, Taesan blinked and snapped out of his trance, his heart suddenly racing as he realized how close she was—way too close. Her nose was inches from his, her curious eyes searching his face, tilting her head like she was trying to figure him out.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she teased, her voice soft, but there was something playful in her gaze that made his stomach flip.

He swallowed hard, feeling his pulse quicken as he tried to act normal. “N-Nothing,” he stammered, but his voice betrayed him.

She smirked, leaning in just a tiny bit closer. He could feel the warmth of her breath. “Are you sure? You’ve been spacing out a lot today.” Her eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow. “What, are you thinking about some girl or something?”

His whole body stiffened, and before he could control his reaction, he jerked back in shock, nearly falling onto her bed. His heart pounded as his back hit the mattress, his ears burning with embarrassment. “W-What? No! I-I wasn’t—” he fumbled over his words, but it was too late. His ears had turned bright red, a telltale sign.

She stood up straight, crossing her arms and staring down at him, her smirk deepening. “Really? You’re blushing pretty hard for a guy who wasn’t thinking about anything.”

He quickly sat up, avoiding her gaze as he tried to regain his composure. “I wasn’t—seriously, it’s nothing,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her suspicion growing. “Hmm, I don’t believe you,” she said, poking his arm. “I think you’ve got a crush. Is it someone I know? Is it Wonyoung from class C?”

“No!” he said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly. His voice came out louder than he intended, and he cursed himself internally.

She tilted her head, clearly not buying his excuse. “Okay, fine, keep your little secret,” she said, rolling her eyes, though there was still that teasing smile on her lips. “But you’re acting weird.”

He sighed, trying to play it cool, but his heart was still pounding from how close she had been just a moment ago. As she turned back to her bed, picking up another dress to examine, he watched her with a mix of frustration and longing. She was completely unaware of the effect she had on him, oblivious to the way he felt.

And as much as he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. Not when she was so excited about her date with the senior.

With a heavy sigh, he lay back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as she continued to prepare. If only she knew it’s her I’m thinking about...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The sound of video game gunfire echoed in the background as Taesan sat at his desk, hunched over his diary. His friends were scattered around his room—some sitting on the floor, others lounging on his bed—talking, laughing, and completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him. They were immersed in their game, but Taesan couldn’t care less.

His hand flew across the pages of his diary, the pen digging into the paper as he furiously scribbled down his thoughts, venting all the frustration that had been building up inside him since this morning. She’s going out with him. Of course she’s going out with him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s popular, good-looking, and probably says all the right things. Meanwhile, I’m just the best friend. 

The words flowed faster, his anger growing with every sentence he wrote. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t stop. Every time he thought about Y/n smiling and laughing with Heeseung, it felt like someone had twisted a knife in his chest.

Finally, when there was nothing left to say—when he’d poured every bit of his anger and jealousy into the pages—he slammed the diary shut. The sharp thud cut through the noise of the game, drawing his friends' attention.

He turned around, ready to pretend like nothing was wrong, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw all three of his friends staring at him. Their mouths hung open, eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. One of them even had his controller dangling in his hands, forgotten in the moment.

“You guys...” Taesan groaned, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “How long have you been watching?”

“Dude,” Jungwon said, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been watching you angrily write in your diary for the last five minutes.”

Jo snorted, trying—and failing—to hold back laughter. “You looked like you were about to set that notebook on fire.”

Taesan felt his face flush even more, embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. “I wasn’t—” he started, but his friends cut him off.

“Okay, okay,” Leehan said, sitting up from the floor. “Clearly, you’re not over her.”

“I never said I wasn’t over her,” Taesan mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Oh please,” Jungwon teased. “You’ve been spacing out for days now. And writing in your diary like you’re Shakespeare in love? Come on.”

The room filled with chuckles, but the teasing didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the fact that his friends were right. He wasn’t over her. Not even close.

“Look,” Leehan said, standing up and walking over to him. “You’ve got two choices, man. One: you confess to Y/n that you like her. Just get it out there. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Taesan winced at the thought. “She could stop talking to me.”

“Or...” Leehan continued, ignoring him, “Two: you get over her. Move on. We can help. First step, throw away all those pictures you took with her.”

Jo chimed in, grinning. “Yeah, you’ve got, like, a million photos of the two of you together, right? Gotta start somewhere.”

The room fell silent as everyone looked at Taesan, waiting for his response. He stared at them, feeling the weight of their suggestions sink in.

Confess? The thought terrified him. What if it ruined everything? What if she never looked at him the same way again?

Get over her? The idea of moving on felt impossible. Every memory they shared, every laugh, every inside joke—they were all too precious to let go of. Even if it hurt, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I’m... I’m okay with things the way they are.”

His friends exchanged confused looks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, “I don’t need to confess. As long as she’s by my side, I’m fine. I’ll deal with it. Even if we’re just friends... that’s enough for me.”

The room went quiet. His friends stared at him, clearly not convinced. But Taesan forced a smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Come on, man,” Jungwon said softly. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I do. I don’t like it... but I’ll deal with it. I can’t risk losing her.”

Leehan sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re tougher than I thought, dude. But... don’t torture yourself. You deserve to be happy too, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jo added. “And if she can’t see how awesome you are, that’s her loss.”

Taesan nodded but didn’t say anything. The truth was, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that being “just friends” was enough, deep down he knew it wasn’t. But for now, he’d keep pretending. Pretending that he was okay with being just the best friend, even if it broke his heart a little more every day.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow on the quiet neighborhood as Taesan and Y/n met outside their houses, ready to walk to school together like they had a thousand times before. The cool morning air hung between them, and the familiar rhythm of their footsteps echoed as they walked side by side, their conversation casual but comfortable.

But Taesan was dying to ask about one thing. He cast a sideways glance at Y/n, watching her as she focused ahead, her arms swinging slightly with each step.

“So,” he began, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible, “how did your date with Heeseung go?”

Y/n immediately let out a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t even get me started.”

Curiosity piqued, Taesan raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse than bad.” She rolled her eyes, clearly still annoyed by the memory. “The guy spent the entire date talking about his Australian friend and how they’re ‘ramen brothers.’ Like, who even cares about that?”

Taesan stifled a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek. He tried to play it cool, but inside, he was practically doing backflips. She didn’t like the date. She’s not interested in him anymore.

“Oh wow,” he said, feigning sympathy. “Sounds like a real... charmer.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over it,” she grumbled, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “He’s not who I thought he was. I’m definitely not interested anymore.”

Yes! Taesan cheered inwardly, though he kept his expression neutral. “I guess some people aren’t what they seem,” he said, trying not to sound too happy.

As they neared the school gates, the morning crowd of students bustled around them, heading into the building. Just as they were about to step through, a familiar voice called out to Taesan.

“Good morning, Dongmin!” It was Wonyoung from Class C, her smile bright as she greeted him.

Taesan gave a polite nod and returned the greeting. “Morning.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Y/n watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow and an unmistakable smirk tugging at her lips. He rolled his eyes dramatically, already knowing what she was thinking.

“Whatever you’re imagining right now is wrong,” he said, giving her a pointed look.

“Mhm, sure it is,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

Ignoring her playful jab, Taesan grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her through the crowd, heading toward their classroom. As they walked, he glanced at her, noticing how she was unusually quiet after the interaction.

Y/n tried to push the weird feeling away, but she couldn’t stop the small knot forming in her stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but seeing Taesan so easily talk to Wonyoung made something stir inside her—something unfamiliar. It wasn’t like she cared who he talked to, but...

Was it jealousy?The thought caught her off guard. She shook her head slightly, trying to brush it off. No way. There’s no reason to be jealous. But even as she told herself that, the feeling lingered, gnawing at the back of her mind as they made their way to class.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[maddyjones2]

On not idolising creative people

In the wake of the various recent allegations involving Neil Gaiman, people have been both very sad that someone who they looked up to as an inspiration has, allegedly, turned out to be something less than entirely admirable, and are now looking to see who is now left that they can rotate into the spot of “the good dude,” i.e., that one successful creative guy who they think or at least hope isn’t hiding a cellar full of awful actions. One name I see brought up is mine, in ways ranging from “Well, at least we still have Scalzi,” to “Oh, God, please don’t let Scalzi be a fucking creep too.” Which, uhhhh, yeah? Thanks?

I have many thoughts about this and I’m going to try to make sense of them here, as much for myself as anyone else, so this may be messy and discursive and long (seriously, 3600 words, y’all), but, well, welcome to me. So, ordered by how these things come out of my head:

1. Stop Idolizing Creative People. Creative people are easy to idolize because they create the art you love, and that gives you permission to feel things, and to see yourself and your desires reflected in that art. That is a powerful thing, and from the outside, it can feel like magic, and that the people who do it are tapped into something otherworldly and admirable. Plus, they often get to have cool lives and get to know other cool creative people. They do things that are removed from the day-to-day aspect of a “normal” life, and they’ll even post about them on social media where you can see them. Sometimes, independent of their art directly, they’ll speak about their life, or life in general, and they’ll seem wise and considered and kind. I mean, what’s not to like?

But please consider that this is all an extremely mediated experience of this person. The art is the edited and massaged result of hours and days and weeks and months of work, into which the work of many others is also added. My novels originate from me, but it’s not just me in there, nor is the final form of the novel an accurate statement of who I am as a person, not least of all for the simple reason that I am not trying to tell my story in my novels. I’m creating fictional characters, and the world in which they make sense, for the purpose of the story.

Despite how it might look from the outside, this is not sorcery. It’s years of experience at a craft. It’s not magic, just work. A completed novel (or any other piece of art) won’t tell you much about the specific, day-to-day life and inclinations of the individual who made it, other than a general nod toward their competence, and the competence of their collaborators. Likewise what you see of their lives, even from the illusorily close vantage of social media, is deeply mediated. Lives always look admirable at a distance, when you can only see the lofty peaks and not the rubble at the base — especially when your attention by design is pointed at those lofty peaks. There’s much you don’t see and that you’re not meant to see. The vast majority of what you’re not meant to see isn’t nefarious. It’s just not your business.

Now, before I was a professional creative person, I was an entertainment journalist who spent years interviewing writers, directors, movie stars, musicians, authors and other creative folks. Since I’ve been on the other side of the rope, I’ve likewise met a huge range of creative people from all walks of life. Please believe me when I assure you that creative people are just people. Richer and/or more famous? Sometimes (less often than you might think, though). Prettier and/or more charismatic? Especially if they’re actors or pop stars, often yes! But at the end of the day they are just folks, and they run the whole range of how people are. By and large, the day-to-day experience of getting through their life is the same as yours. Outside of their own specific field of work, they don’t know any more about life, have no more facility for dealing with the world, and have just as few clues about what’s going on in their own head, as anyone else.

They’re just people. Whose work is making the stuff you like! And that’s great, but that’s not a substantive basis for idolizing them. It makes no more sense to idolize them than to idolize a baker who makes cookies you like, or the guy who comes and trims your hedges the way you want them to be trimmed, or the plumber who fixes your clogged drain. You can appreciate what they do, and even admire they skill they have. But holding them up as a life model might be a bit much. Which is the point! If you’re not willing to idolize a plumber, then you shouldn’t idolize a creative person.

(“But a plumber doesn’t make me feel like a creative person does,” you say, to which I say, are you sure about that? Because I will tell you what, when my sump pump stopped working and the plumber got in there, replaced the pump and started draining out my basement which had an inch of standing water in it, that man was the focus of all my emotions and was my goddamned hero that day. My plumber that day did more for me than easily 90% of the great art I’ve ever experienced.)

Enjoy the art creative people do. Enjoy the experience of them in the mediated version of them you get online and elsewhere, if such is your joy. But remember that the art is from the artist, not the artist themselves, and the version of their life you see is usually just the version they choose to show. There is so much you don’t see, and so much you’re not meant to see. At the end of the day, you don’t have all the information about who they are that you would need to make them your idol, or someone you might choose to, in some significant way, pattern some fraction of your life on. And anyway creative people aren’t any better at life than anyone else.

Which brings up the next point:

2. Fuck idols anyway! People are complicated and contradictory and you don’t know everything about them! You don’t know everything even about your parents or siblings or best friends or your partner! People are hypocrites and liars and fail to live up to their own standards for themselves, much less yours! Your version of them in your head will always be different than the version that actually exists in the world! Because you’re not them! Stop pretending people won’t be fuck ups! They will! Always!

This sounds more pessimistic about humans than perhaps it should be. When I say, for example, that people are hypocrites and liars, I don’t mean that people take every single opportunity to be hypocrites and liars. Most people are decent in the moment. But none of us — not one! — has always lived up to our own standard of behavior, and all of us have had the moment where, when confronted with a situation that would become an immense pain in the ass if we stuck to our guns, or demanded the inconvenient truth, decided to just bail instead, because the situation wasn’t worth the drama, or we had somewhere else to be, or whatever. We all choose battles and we all make the call in the moment, and sometimes the call is, fuck this, I’m out.

Every person you’ve ever admired has fucked up, sometimes really badly. Everyone you’ve ever looked up to has secrets, and it’s possible some of those secrets would materially change how you think about them, not always for the better. Everyone you’ve ever known has things about them you don’t know, many of which aren’t even secrets, they’re just things you don’t engage with in your day-to-day experience of them. Nevertheless it’s possible if you were aware of them, it would change how you feel about them, for better or for worse. And now let’s flip that around! You have things about you that even your best friends don’t know, and might be surprised to learn! You have secrets you don’t wish to share with the class! You have fucked up, and lied, and have been a hypocrite too!

You are, in short, a human, as is everyone you know and every one you will know (pets and gregarious wild animals excepted). And all humans are, charitably, a mess. This doesn’t mean there aren’t good people or even exemplary people out there, since there are, along with the ones that are, charitably, a real shit show. What I am saying is that even the good or exemplary people out there are a mess, have been morally compromised at some point in their lives, and have not lived up to their own standards for themselves, independent of anyone else’s standard for them.

One of the aspects of being an “idol,” I think, is that higher standard that other people expect of you — that in every situation where the aspect they idolize you for is in play, you will act in a manner that is right and correct by their standard, which of course you will likely not know about because you don’t actually know them (or often know that they exist). This is, by definition, an impossible standard to be held to — you didn’t agree to it, or to engage with it — and an impossible standard to hold other people to without their direct consultation. Every human made to be an idol is destined to fail at the job. You don’t even have to have feet of clay! You just didn’t know you were on a pedestal to begin with.

(This does not excuse shitty action. The fact people should not be idols in the first place is not exculpatory for the choices one makes on one’s own. If you’re sexually assaulting people, or being a racist or sexist or homophobe or other flavor of bigot, or using your situational power coercively (as just a few examples), then hell yes you are going to be called out on it. And to be clear, it is not unreasonable, to put it mildly, to expect people not to sexually assault other people, or not to denigrate other humans for being who they are, etc. But this only adds to the point about idols, now, doesn’t it. You don’t know what you don’t see, and you don’t know what you’re not seeing, until it is hauled out into the light one way or the other. If it is hauled out into the light at all.)

I don’t think anyone should idolize anyone, ever. It’s not great for them, and it’s not great for you, they probably didn’t ask to be idolized (and if they did, holy shit, fucking run), and in the end unless you’re so completely wrapped up in their lives that they have no secrets from you — which is never — you don’t know enough to make that call. People do it anyway, and then disappointment happens, but they shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Stop idolizing people. It’s not fair for anyone.

What to do instead? Enjoy their work, if they’re a creative person. Appreciate the kind and good aspects of their life that you can see, and the decent actions they undertake in public, with the knowledge that what you see of them is a mediated and elided version. Understand that we all have a different version of ourself for every person we meet, and that every person we meet has a different vision of ourselves in their head, and very often, those two versions are not the same. Like them, based on what you know of them! Love them, if it comes to that. And when and if you learn something new about them that you didn’t know before, let empathy guide you to a new understanding of them and what they mean to you.

And now, taking all of the above into consideration:

3. Absolutely 100% do not idolize me. I don’t deserve to be idolized because no one deserves to be idolized, but also, holy fuck, I do know me and I’m a mess. There have been lots of things in my life that I’ve done that have not been admirable or kind. I can be petty and shitty and competitive and cruel. I am lazy and inattentive and when I let things slide (which is often), I end up jammed up on my responsibilities, which makes me irritable and no fun to be around. I have a temper which goes from zero to sixty almost instantaneously; if I’m not actively paying attention to it, I can become a sudden, unreasonable rage monster, which is a burden to people I love, and I hate that fact about myself (pro tip: don’t travel with me, the rage monster comes out a lot then).

I can be controlling and demanding but I want other people to handle the details, i.e., executive asshole. I am strategic in a way that can be bloodless. When I’m insecure I brag a lot, which is unflattering. If you cross me, I won’t go out of my way to make your life miserable (that would require effort on my part), but I will absolutely enjoy when you take a literal or metaphorical tumble down the stairs. God knows I’ve enjoyed the failures of the people who have spoken ill of me, almost as much as I’ve enjoyed the fuming, spittling rage they’ve felt when I’ve succeeded. I spent years cultivating a snarky persona online and while that was fun (for me), I’m increasingly aware that when the tally is added up for Who Ruined the Internet, I’m not necessarily going to be where I want to be on that particular ledger.

And these are only the bad qualities of mine I wish to admit to you at the moment. There are others, I assure you.

So, yes: Who wants to idolize me now?

“But you seemed so nice when I chatted with you online/met you at the convention/saw you at that one place that one time.” Well, thank you, I’ve been in the public eye in one manner or another for three and a half decades now and I understand my assignment; my public persona is friendly and engaging and sociable and mostly fun to be with. It’s not a fake version of me — I am all those things! Honest! — but, again, it’s a mediated version of me designed not only to be a positive experience for the people who meet me but also to get my actually introverted ass through a whole day of events at a convention/festival/book tour/whatever. When I’m done I collapse into an introverted hole. When I came back from Worldcon this week, I slept for 15 hours the first day I was home. It wasn’t just because of jet lag or con crud.

I rather famously call my public face “performance monkey mode,” and likewise what I say about my (current) online mode is that I’m cosplaying as a better version of myself, one that is kinder than I used to be online, and more patient than I am in the real world. If you meet me when I am “off” then you will find that, again, these versions of me are me, just with some things dialed up and other things dialed down. But even that is still a different version of me than, say, the version of me which is at home (which is in fact extremely boring; that version of me doesn’t talk much and mostly stays in my office).

Many of you who have followed me over the years are familiar with me saying things like this, of course, and are likewise familiar with me pointing out that there are a number of things about my life that I don’t mention in public, for whatever reasons I choose. But it’s also true that I’ve been actively online for 30+ years now, and people feel reasonably confident that they have a good bead on me and that there’s not much about me that will surprise them or change their understanding of me. So to bring home the point there are indeed things you don’t know, allow me to surface just one previously unaired fun fact:

I have a concealed carry license.

(Or did; it expired this year and I didn’t renew it, because Ohio changed its laws so that you no longer need a permit to conceal carry in the state. These days in Ohio you can just wander about with a handgun stuffed down your trousers without training or licensing because that’s a real good idea, now, isn’t it. Nevertheless, the license is not necessary anymore so there was not much point in renewing it, although if the law had not changed, I probably would have renewed.)

Why did I have a concealed carry license? Well, ultimately that’s not important. The point is I had one. I didn’t talk about it before because, among other things, the point of a concealed carry license (to me, anyway) is that its existence is not meant to be known by anyone other than that great state of Ohio itself. I am aware, and this is a dramatic understatement, that I am not a person most people would expect to have had such a thing. That the fact I had one will cause a number of people to reconsider what they know about me, for better or for worse. Which is also my point. All y’all have just learned this thing about me! Think about all the other things you don’t know!

Oh, God, this is where Scalzi starts admitting to terrible, terrible things. No. I feel pretty confident I live a tolerably ethical life. Part of the reason for this is that I have what I think is a decent operating principle, which is: If I’m thinking of doing something, and Krissy called me right then and asked “what are you doing?” and I would be tempted to lie to her about it, then I don’t do that thing. Because Krissy is the most important person in my life, and I don’t want to lie to her about what I’m doing (I have lied to her exactly once. She knew instantly. I haven’t bothered lying to her since). This is not replacing Krissy’s ethics with my own; it’s me knowing whether by my own ethics, I would be ashamed to tell to her what I am up to. It works very well. As such, the Krissy Test is an operating principle I highly suggest to others, although I’d suggest replacing Krissy with whomever your life is most important to you.

Be that as it may, my ethics are not universal and some others might not find them sufficient, for whatever reason. I am well aware I still disappoint many people, and that there are people who find my life choices, known positions or public statements (or lack of them, as the case may be) problematic, or who simply wish I would be other than what I am. I can’t help them with this, but again, this is the point. Given the fact that I am a fallible human who has an entire stratum of his life not visible to the world — and the strata of his life that are visible cause significant numbers of people to be irritated and exasperated — is it not better just to not hold me up as an ideal person, or the “good dude,” much less an idol of any sort?

I mean, shit. What Would John Scalzi Do? Solidly half the time, I have no fucking idea. I have to think about it, whatever it is. I have to think about whether I know enough to do or say something about it. I have to decide whether it’s something I want to engage with at all, and whether my engagement with it is something that would be of value to anyone, me included. I have to decide whether engaging with it is worth the shit I will get for it. And then I have to figure out what it means that I am engaging with it, since like it or not I’m a Dude of Reasonable Significance in My Field. I try to be a decent human, when people are looking at me and especially when they are not. But I also know me, and all my flaws and weaknesses and compromises.

What Would John Scalzi Do? The best he can, in the moment. Is that sufficient? For me, yes, most of the time. Is that sufficient for you? That’s up to you.

The point to this all is that people are just a big fucking mess, including the ones you might for whatever reason find admirable. I am no different than anyone else, and you should not be under the illusion that I am anything other than a shambling collection of flaws embedded inside a human form, which also, in its defense, has some pretty excellent qualities as well. We’re all this way! You too!

And while I want you to like my work, and to enjoy the version of me that you see here and elsewhere, don’t put me, or any other person, on a pedestal. Pedestals are wobbly and and don’t give actual humans a lot of room to move. We will inevitably fall off. Keep us with our feet on the ground. That way, when we stumble, there’s a chance we can get back up, and keep going.

— JS

[erenthology]

Eren Jaeger x reader (drabble)

‘Did it hurt?”

you turn to meet his eyes, confused by his question. “What? it felt goo-“

“When you fell from heaven.” he laughs at his own joke. “God, Eren you’re so tacky.” you say, pushing his body from yours. “Girls love it.”

There’s the reminder you needed. “right. So I’m heading out.” His whole body turns, “where are you going?” raising an eyebrow, trying to pull you back into bed. “I have plans.” you turn from his grip and start looking for your underwear.

He stands up and and puts his jeans on, “with who?” his tone makes you falter a bit. He’s never cared about more than how far you’d let him go in bed. At least he’s never given any clear indication.

You hesitate putting your clothes on for a second before answering. “Just meeting a friend”

“And who’s this ‘friend’?” He’s standing right behind you now which makes you jump. “Jesus, Eren. you can’t creep up behind me like that.” He stands unaffected, waiting for your reply.

“Just helping a guy from my class with our chem exam.” He laughs without any indication of humor. “You’re kidding, right?”

You feel the tension rising and do your best to avoid it, like you always do. “I’m tutoring, dude. Let it go.”

“I just fucked you senseless into my madress and you’re about to meet another guy?” he doesn’t even know why he’s raising his voice. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at himself for not having the guts to claim you as his.

Some people would call Eren arrogant, greedy, well, he kinda has the right to be. As the captain of the hockey team, he’s used to getting that he wants. that, and his looks. Flashing what he’s been told is a ‘very charming smile’ usually has him set for anything he wants.

Thing is, he wants you, and he thought he made it clear. I mean, are that blind to his advances? Other guys should know you’re off the market. He’s kinda made sure everyone knows. Except you apparently

The moment he raised his voice, regret filled his heart upon seeing your face. He feels he can’t stop messing up but the though of you meeting another man at when you’re giving of indications of being mad at him, is scary.

“Are you jealous?” You inquire, wanting to understand him. “I’m not jealous! It’s just..you’re mine.” even he looks confused as he says it.

You scoff at this, “you’re not my boyfriend, you have no right.” Maybe he doesn’t like the reminder.

He blocks the door with his body as you’re trying to exit. Frustrated, you sigh. “What are you doing? move.” you say, taking a step forward. “No.” he sternly says and means it. You bring your hand to slap him but he grabs it.

“We’re just fucking, right? so let me go, Eren. Let me go!” You struggle but his athlete body has no issue keeping up against you. “Don’t say that. you’re more than that to me.” At this, you stop fighting against him, looking anywhere but his face.

“I’m sorry.” You’re taken aback when he slumps his head on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have mentioned other girls. It was a bad joke.” You feel heat rising in your face. “What are you talking ab-

“Stop. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” he exhales.

“I don’t unde-“

“you know I like you.” he interrupts, looking exhausted. You feel a lump in your throat and hate yourself for it. “How Eren? you never show me.” your voice breaks as you say it.

“I never show you? he almost laughs. “We spend every living moment together, I chase after you like a goddamn dog, god [name] how could you not see how infatuated I am with you?” he’s breathing heavily now.

Maybe you have been ignoring his advances. Maybe actions speak louder than words, or maybe, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

“Mentioning other girls did upset me.” you decide to admit. This is your way of showing him you like him too, and he understands it perfectly.

“Yeah?” he smiles and you return the favor. “Yeah.”

“Want me to tell you how I jerk off to you and only you? Cuz I can get pretty romantic you know.” he pretends to be serious. Breaking out in laughter, “You can’t let a good moment pass, can you Eren?”

“Huh? wait, I can go into detail, I usually imagine you on to-“ you slap your hand over hush mouth. “Hush.”

He feels relief that you’re not upset anymore. Draping his hand over your shoulder, dragging you back in to his room. “You know, you look pretty hot when you’re angry.”

You deadpan, letting him go on. Eren explains everything so passionately, it takes a while getting used to. “I’m being for real. It’s hot when you talk back to me. Every time I look at you, you somehow turn even more beautiful.” he says in all seriousness, making you turn your face away from his in embarrassment.

he threads his fingers through yours, “don’t look away.” he murmurs, breathing you in through your neck, using his free hand to push your hips closer to his.

“I like it when you say stuff like that.” you confess, making him smile in your neck, scattering soft kisses up your jawline. “Then I’ll keep saying them.” He pulls back and thinks all the ways you make him fall into pieces, of the unsaid words he’ll make sure to tell you.

You carefully lift up your tangled hands and leave kisses up his wrist, taking initiative giving him the eyes. He lifts his face and locks eyes with you, message received.

Grabbing your jaw, he whispers, “wanna get fucked?” and you nod, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

Playlist

He runs his hand down his chest and twirls his finger in the air, “turn around for me, gorgeous.” You comply and make sure to graze your ass against his zipper, his eyes follow the movement and the air suddenly feel thicker.

“You’re a little tease, aren’t you?” sweeping your hair away from your back. He makes sure to take a mental photo when you turn your face back and smirk. You’re going to be the end of him.

“Strip.”

And so you do while his fingers trail from your neck down your lower back, until it’s playing in between your legs, “Jesus christ, this pussy.” His boner is prominent against you back as firmly holds you against him by your hipbone.

Wasting no time, he stops himself from making you come on his fingers and leaves a trail of wetness on your skin as his hands move away.

“You’re so wet, [name]. Do you like it when I touch you?” he’s being condescending. You hear his clothes hit the floor and excitement rushes through you. “I like it.” you exclame.

Taking a fistful of your hair, he brings his face into yours, capturing your lips with a promise. “Gonna fuck you so hard, baby.”

He pushes you onto the mattress and positions himself on top, locking his fingers into your hips. His touch is so rough, branding you as his. A slow grind of him entering you leaves you breathless, the stabbing pain of his size lasting for only a second before the rhythmical plunging of his cock turn into pleasure.

You lie weightless as his skin slaps against you, spreading warmth from inside out. He grabs onto the headboard and pushes even deeper, increasing the tension of pleasure with every stroke. It’s too much, you could swear he’s in your belly. Releasing a shriek, you squirm away, overwhelmed by pleasure. He grabs your chin abruptly, “you’re gonna take it.”

Running your hand down your belly, you stop to show him. “can feel you.” you breathe. His eyes follow your movement and the moments he realizes what you mean, he lets out the sluttiest grown and pummels into you with everything he has.

“fuck, fucking love fucking you.”

Throaty moans leave your mouth as he claims every inch of your body. He lifts your legs higher and leaves kisses along your foot. “Tell me who you belong to.” staring deep into your eyes, leaving you no place to hide.

“Y-you.” you hiccup as the force of his hips rutting into yours, moves your entire body. He holds you down, massaging your skin with rough hands. A pleased hum leaves his throat, “Yeah, and I don’t like sharing.”He’s so arrogant.

“Harder.” you plead, pushing your hands against his steel back muscles. A whistle leaves him and his face explodes into a grin, “a real freak aren’t you?”

You give him a lustful smile and he immediately obliges your demand and rocks his hips into yours even harder, skin to skin. Keeping his eyes on you to make sure you’re okay.

The way your eyes roll to the back of head head as you start touching yourself is indication enough for him. Each touch of his pelvic increases the friction against your clit . Your pussy is tightening up, spasming around his jock. And you feel his cock jerk inside you.

No words are needed, you both know each others bodies inside out. You come first and he gathers you in his arms as you scream and writhe beneath him, “shh, baby. It’s okay. so proud of you.” he whispers all tenderly, running his palms up and down your sides as you continue to pump his cock, making him release.

His head rears back as his cock jerks inside of you, spurting his cum into the latex barrier in between you. The high of coming together is like nothing else, his fist in your scalp and your hands scratching every inch of him you can reach.

As you both calm down, your rough markings on his abdomen turn into soothing touches while he inspect every inch of his handprints on your body. You’re a match to his flame, and he has no intention of letting you go.

“Staying the night?” he asks intentionally, this feels like a deciding moment between you two. “mhm,” you hum, “but just because your shirts are comfortable to sleep in.” you say, slyly.

Yeah right. “Had no intention of letting you leave anyway” he admits and gets up, throwing away the condom and begins picking out a shirt for you to wear. It already feels empty without him inside you.

“Hey, did you really have someone to tutor?” he asks, snapping you away from your thoughts.

“Yeah, why?” you answer thoughtlessly, making Eren snicker, “well you should probably let him know you’re not coming by now,” he reminds you.

“Oh shit.” you jump towards your phone and he just laughs, smacking your ass.

“best ass in the world.”

[starringthesturniolos]

surprise- sturniolo triplets

summary- you've always wanted a cat and matt, chris, and nick come make your dream a reality.

contains- platonic relationships only<3 its just a cute little drabble fr.

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

"she is going to flip the fuck out when she sees him." chris looks back at the little surprise him, matt, and nick got for you while rubbing his hands in anticipation. now that the car is parked matt looks back as well, and his eyes light up for the second time today. "Awww, he is sooo cute. such a handsome man." he coos making both chris and him chuckle. "I don't know...he looks like he'd bite the shit out of me." nick adds right after, making the two in the front seat burst out in laughter. "of course you think that nick" chris says. after they both calm down a little, nick shifts his attention to the camera at the front of the car.

"OKAY so if you guys watch our videos, you know Y/n and you also know how much she talks about wanting a cat. we figured it would be so fun if we just bought her one and got her reaction on camera. I, for one, am so so excited to see how happy she's going to be." he looks out the window at your front yard and sighs happily. "Y/n is so sweet, I love her." he says almost tearfully.

"here he goes, getting all emotional and shit" chris adds giggling at nicks nonsense.

after talking a little bit more about the story about getting the cat, they all walk out to go up to your front door. nick has a key, so there was no need to knock. they just walked right in to your tiny apartment. matt trails behind nick and chris as they make a beeline for your room. "she's probably still sleeping, im kinda scared to wake her up." nicks says fear creeping into his voice. you were one of the sweetest people they have ever met, but you are a whole other person when you first wake up. not only are you grumpy, but your also pissed with the person who interrupted your sleep. one time, nick went to wake you up from a nap to see if you wanted to go to top golf and you ended up shooing him out your room with a broom. lets just say, you didn't go to top golf and nick did not go into your room for about a week after that. chris and matt shudder at the memory, but chris is quick to reassure nick. "nah it'll be okay, she won't be annoyed we woke her up for long. I'll go in first. matt stay outside the door for a little until we call you in. " okay" matt says barely paying attention and just staring at the cuteness that is your kitten.

chris opens your door to find you sleeping. tissues surround the floor next to your bed, and you stir upon hearing someone opening your door. you sit up straight and sigh when you see him. "chris, what the hell are you doing here this early."

"we just wanted to come see you, feels like we haven't seen you in sooo long." he says with way more energy than you felt at the moment. "I would give you a hug, but you look like shit" he chuckles. your eyes were bloodshot red, your hair a mess, and your nose bright red from blowing it all night. even so, you shoot him a glare but your eyes soften when you see his smile. chris always reminds you of a kid in a candy store, and his bubbly attitude is contagious.

"yeah well, im hoping its allergies." you say smiling back at him before nick walks in.

"okay girl, you don't have allergies. lets be real, your sick." nick points at you. "sickie sickie doesn't get any kissy kissies." he says in a strange high pitch voice. matt has to cover his mouth to keep himself from laughing too loud and revealing his hiding spot. chris on the other hand laughs while cringing openly. "dude, never say that shit again, that was really bad." you laugh along before going into a coughing fit. both boys look at each other and then look at you with concern. "Jesus" nick says and chris hands the camera to him. chris approaches your bed and softly sits next to you. he moves the hair out of your face and then places his hand on your forehead. "oh you are burning up, hun. we'll make this quick."

"make what quick? and where is matt?" you question just as he walks into the room your surprise in hand. he took him out the carrier so you could hold him immediately.

"SUPRISE" he yells. you wince a little at how loud he was but quickly recover when you see the kitten he's holding. sick and all, you rush to get out of your bed to go see him. your body is fatigued from being sick for two days so when you get up, you stumble. good thing nick is there to catch you.

"careful there girl" he laughs nervously while grabbing your arm to walk you to matt. you pay him no mind, completely focused on the bundle of cuteness in matts arm.

"AWWW matt, he's so cute!!! whose is it?" you say while picking it up and cuddling the kitten into your chest. nick steps back a little to get both you and matt in the frame.

"its yours y/n" matt says softly and you freeze.

"its mine?" you say tears of joy filling your eyes.

"of course it is y/n, we got him for you because we love you" chris adds smiling at your heartfelt reaction.

"thank you guys" you say as tears stream down your cheeks. even though your sick all three of them came to hug you, touched by your gratitude. you lean your head into matts shoulder and sigh looking down at your new pet in your arms.

"sooo what's his name gonna be?" chris inquires as you all break away from the group hug. you pause to think for a minute, and then your face lights up.

"angel" you say dreamily.

"angel" nick repeats chuckling for no reason at all.

"angel." matt repeats the name as well. "its perfect sweetheart." he sends you a soft smile. you look around at the three boys, grateful to have the most amazing best friends in the world.

@bbernard-03

[melon-fodder]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: college setting, fem-bodied reader, mentions of a toxic ex, stalking, reader is Matsumoto’s stepsister, shorter reader, clothing described, first meetings, cunnilingus, reader is in a vulnerable place okay, we aren’t judging, dirty talk, reader’s pussy described as “pretty”, “sweet”, “chubby”, Hiragi’s POV

Note: this will either be a fun standalone or part of a bigger project. It depends on the flow as I keep writing more. For now, I hope you enjoy this intro~

Is this Hiragi? I’m Yodai’s sister. He said I could call you if I need help on campus.

Hiragi reads the text message a couple times, wondering if this is an introduction or a cry for help, but before he can ask, three dots show up beneath the first message.

I think my ex is stalking me.

Well, that answers that. Straight and to the point.

Getting up from his seat, Hiragi grunts to his curious friends, “somethin’ came up,” then strides out of the café and to his bike.

Yeah it’s me. Library right?

He doesn’t wait for a reply, just shoves his helmet over his head before pulling out of his parking space. The university campus is only a few minutes away, but that’s more than enough time for some creep to climb the steps and corner someone in a dark alcove—specifically his good friend’s sister.

There are only a few cars in the lot, late night studiers or maybe profs trying to get shit ready for tomorrow. It’s a little past nine, and most of the lights of the main building are turned off.

Yeah, how’d you know?

Your bro told me you work there. Omw up now.

He takes the concrete stairs two at a time, easy considering how long his legs are, all the while scanning his surroundings. There isn’t anyone lurking in the shadows that he can see, but who knows who might be sitting in one of the cars outside?

The glass doors aren’t locked even though they probably should be, so Hiragi is able to walk right in, scanning each sign—lab, tutoring—until he reads ‘Library’ and follows the arrow pointing down the corridor.

It’s dim inside, the only light source coming from the lamps that hang over the checkout counter, and underneath, bathed in their soft glow, is a single figure.

Hiragi clears his throat, and you nearly fall out of your chair, “Jesus—” eyes wide with panic when you spot him.

“Just me,” he assures. Like that’ll do anything. It’s not as if the two of you have ever met before. You only know of each other because of Matsumoto.

Your voice is a little shaky as you take in a few deep breaths and question, “Hiragi?”

He nods, moving slowly toward the counter so that he doesn’t scare you even more, knows he doesn’t exactly look welcoming in his leather jacket and ripped pants, not to mention the fading bruise on his cheekbone.

He’s surprised at the fact that you don’t look any more inviting than he does. From what Hiragi can see, you’re dressed in a dark t-shirt partially covered by a rolled up flannel, and your hair is tied into two messy buns. Your lips look bright but raw, like you’ve been chewing on them, and there’s smudged makeup around your puffy eyes.

Stop staring.

You don’t look like you should be working in the college library; you look like you should be making drinks in a dive bar or at some no-name punk show. You look like the type of girl Hiragi might try to impress.

Not that it matters. He’s here for one thing: keep you safe as a favor to your brother.

“Thanks for coming,” you finally sigh, sliding out of your chair and bending down to grab your bag from under the counter. “I know this must seem so lame, but I swear I’ve seen Yuki’s car pass by, like, six times.”

“Not lame,” Hiragi tries. “Dude sounds like a creep from what Matsumoto’s told me.”

“Creep doesn’t even do it justice,” you mumble, slinging the old backpack over your shoulder then reaching to turn off the row of hanging lights. “Fucking psycho is more accurate.”

Yukinari Arima—Hiragi was already a little familiar with the guy just because of previous scuffles. When he heard his friend’s sister was dating him, he was a little caught off guard. Matsumoto has been the fun-loving type for as long as Hiragi’s known him, but letting his sister hook up with someone like Arima? Definitely not in his character.

“I’ve tried to get her to break up with him, but all she does is call me a hypocrite and shut me out.”

“She came home cryin’ again today. Wonder what that fuck-ass did this time.”

“If he ever lays a hand on her, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

Hiragi gets it. He understands being protective over the people he cares most about.

And when you round the corner in your scuffed up Converse, tighter-than-hell leggings, and smile up at him— “seriously, I really appreciate this, Hiragi,” —he can easily see how you bring out that big brother instinct in his friend.

“Not a problem,” Hiragi shrugs. You lock the doors from the inside with an Allen wrench, and he tries not to not to admire the shape of your ass as you walk around. He usually doesn’t notice things like that when first meeting a girl, but the subtle sound of your leggings swishing with every step draws his attention without his permission.

Fuck’s sake, dude. She’s Matsumoto’s sister. Don’t be an idiot.

“I owed him a favor anyway,” Hiragi adds. You peer at him suspiciously while you both make your way out of the building.

“And, I’m that favor?”

Your eyes are still a little red from what must have been your crying earlier, but they still twinkle with something a little playful.

Trouble.

“Guess you could say that.”

You laugh quietly, but it dies when you reach the parking lot and your focus shifts to your surroundings. There’s nothing but a few parked cars, Hiragi’s bike, and some litter that the wind catches and pushes along the ground.

A dog barks in the distance, startling you, and you actually squeak when Hiragi puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Easy. M’not gonna let anything jump at you.”

A shaky breath leaves your chest and you steel yourself, apparently believing him, and walk the rest of the way to your car with a little more confidence. It’s a little hatchback, nothing modded except for the speaker system that starts blasting as soon as you turn your keys in the ignition.

“Not in that headspace anymore,” you mutter, the familiar rock song fading when you quickly twist the knob.

“I’ll follow behind to make sure he isn’t tailin’ ya,” Hiragi says.

A laugh gets caught in your throat, and he matches your expression—curious, eyebrows raised— “you, a scary guy, are gonna follow me home… to make sure another scary guy… isn’t following me home?”

“I—” Hiragi pauses. Doesn’t make much sense when you put it like that, but still. “Gotta pick your poison, I guess.”

You nibble on your lip again, now sitting in your driver’s seat while looking up at Hiragi from below. The thoughts that churn in his head are… weird. Not like him.

Matsumoto really should have warned him about how damn pretty you are.

“Fine. But only ‘cause I’ll need you to know where I live if he ever shows up there.”

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Hiragi chuckles.

Your expression turns serious again, voice a little sad when you tell him, “you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to justify these last couple years.”

Fair. You probably haven’t had a guy, aside from Arima or your brother, anywhere near your home in a while, and your ex doesn’t seem the type to appreciate other men spending time with you.

Hiragi doesn’t know what to say to that. The only response he can come up with is an honest, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He watches in absolute horror as tears well up in your eyes, but you turn toward the windshield and away from him before things can get too awkward.

Jesus, when’s the last time a dude was nice to you?

“It’s not far from here,” you state. “I’ll drive slow.”

Hiragi will be able to keep up no matter how you drive, but he doesn’t bother saying so. He’ll just follow your lead.

Student housing is not what Hiragi expected you to be living in. Small, modest, cheap. At least it’s not shady, though, many of the unit lights still on inside.

“I tried to tell my stepdad that dorms were fine. Not like I need a lot of room, but he said I deserved privacy,” you say as you walk with Hiragi to your front door. “It was probably a blessing. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle all the eighteen-year-olds.”

He’s not planning on going inside, just wants to make sure you get in safely, but you pause after unlocking your door and ask, “do you mind sitting with me for a sec? I’m just… I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“I can stay,” Hiragi answers. “It’s okay to be kinda shaken up. Break up wasn’t long ago, was it?”

He follows behind you, crosses the threshold, no idea what he’s getting himself into.

“We did the on again off again shit for a while. The final split was a couple months ago, but it wasn’t until he found out I was moving that he started getting…”

“Scary?” he offers.

You nod. “Texts and calls from burner phones. His friends conveniently popping up around town. And I swear I keep seeing his stupid car everywhere. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

“What kinda car does he drive?”

Rolling your eyes you describe his Nissan as ‘obnoxiously loud’ and ‘modded to hell and back’. “It’s hard to miss.”

Hiragi stays in his place against the door, not wanting to impose. He glances around at the parts of your apartment that he can actually see—beige walls, wood flooring, small couch that doesn’t look broken in yet. The tiniest kitchen he’s ever seen is tucked into a corner, a ladder off to the side that leads up to what’s probably your sleeping space.

It feels cramped to be honest. Decent for a single college girl who spends more time on campus, but Hiragi feels more and more claustrophobic the longer he stands here. Then again, the tightness in his chest might have nothing to do with the apartment and everything to do with the way you’re staring at him.

He can’t read your expression entirely. There’s curiosity there, and… appreciation, he thinks. Admiration?

Attraction. That’s it.

You’re attracted to him.

Which really does not bode well considering Hiragi has been struggling to keep his eyes to himself.

“I have a weird question,” you state, and he swears his heart drops into his already upset stomach. “It’s embarrassing and cringey, but I figure I’ve already made myself look like some stupid girl who can’t defend herself and—” You ramble, and he lets you, watching you get flustered all by yourself before you finally blurt, “do you think I’m pretty?”

Hiragi blinks.

“Sorry. It’s just been a long time since anyone—and you’re a guy, so I feel like you can make that judgment ‘cause I don’t know, I just don’t feel like—”

“Definitely.”

You stop mid-sentence (was that even a sentence?) and get all doe-eyed again.

“Yeah?”

Damn, Arima really did a number on you.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t really say anything since your brother would kick my ass—or he’d try to—but,” he stalls, distracted by the vulnerability that’s been etched into you. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and I might have to show ya how pretty I think you are.”

He’s not sure where that last part came from. Absolutely did not mean to say it out loud, but now it’s there, and he can’t take it back, and this is not how Hiragi expected this night to go.

You’re slow to smile, like you’re still a little in shock, but when your lips start curling they don’t stop until you’re grinning sideways at him.

“Better be careful saying things like that to a girl like me.”

Hiragi pushes off the door, takes one long step to stand directly in front of you. You’re a good bit shorter than him, enough that he has to tilt his head downward to keep eye contact, but it’s cute the way you have to crane your neck to look at him.

“Yeah? What kinda girl is that?”

Fuck. Fuck. He isn’t supposed to want you. He told Matsumoto he would keep you safe from the pervy assholes around here, and now he’s acting like one of them.

“The kind who’s had to fake all her orgasms for the past three years.”

His dick twitches at the idea of you cumming at all, and Hiragi reaches up, hooking a finger under your chin to bring your face even closer to his. He doesn’t lack confidence by any means, but it’s rare that he’s this bold.

Something about you, though… the nervous babbling or your ass in those leggings or the way the word ‘orgasm’ flowed off your tongue so casually…

“Poor thing,” he murmurs in a low voice that makes you shiver for him.

Your gaze flits to his mouth for a moment, meets his again, and then you whisper, “show me how pretty you think I am.”

Your cheeks are hot under Hiragi’s palms when he grabs your face, crushing his lips against yours in a fevered kiss he could never have predicted.

You whimper immediately, clutching the collar of his shirt before frantically shoving at his jacket.

Oh, you need this, don’t you? You need someone to scratch that itch your ex never could.

Hiragi shrugs out of the leather then walks you backward toward your couch, his tongue sliding against yours as he maneuvers you to sit on the armrest. You tear your own jacket off, arms flying up when Hiragi starts pulling your shirt off. The bra you have underneath is made of soft material and does nothing to hide your hard nipples. He unclasps it with one hand, feels you smile into the kiss.

“Had some practice, have you?”

He smirks, “a bit.”

You yelp when he shoves you, sending you falling back onto the cushions so that he can get to the waistband of your bottoms and pull. You shimmy to help him, and once they’re off Hiragi is ready to spread your legs and feast on what’s between them only to find your knees locked together.

“What? Gettin’ all shy on me now?”

He’s not gonna force you to keep going if you don’t want to, but fuck, his cock is already painfully hard.

“No, I just… it’s been a second. I’m not fully, um, scaped.”

Hiragi snorts. “I’m not some frat boy bitch. A little hair ain’t gonna bother me.”

You nibble on your lip but eventually start to relax. Hiragi speeds up the process, looming over you while pressing your knees apart, and when his eyes land on what you were so worried about, his mouth starts to water.

The cutest, chubby pussy he’s ever seen, already wet for him. You’ve obviously ‘scaped’ recently, hair past stubble but nowhere near the point of curling—not that he’s ever minded that—but your insecurities are stupid.

He tugs you toward him so that your hips are lifted against the armrest, exposing more of you to him. Hiragi spreads your folds with his thumbs and licks his lips.

“Look at this sweet pussy,” he groans, pressing the tip of a finger into your drippy little hole. “All this for me?”

You let out something between a moan and a cry, nodding awkwardly, and your voice breaks when Hiragi leans over you to look at your face, sliding a long finger all the way inside of you without warning. You can take it, he knows, already soft and slick so there’s no resistance.

“You don’t even know me,” Hiragi states, hushed and a little condescending. He doesn’t know you either, but he sure is ready to stick his dick in you.

Your eyes roll, back arching, and you clench around his finger. When he curls it the way he’s done many times before, stroking against your swollen g-spot, your jaw goes slack.

Arima really couldn't do this for you? What a fucking moron.

Hiragi knows you’re gonna cum for him. He’s gonna make you. And fast. He just keeps stroking over that doughy bundle, rubbing circles over your twitching clit, and sure enough, within a matter of minutes your thighs are tensing and you’re squirting all over his shirt.

He shoves his face against your pussy, nosing between your folds as he laps up the cum still leaking out of you, forcing more and more out with each thrust of his finger.

“Oh fuck, fuck—I…”

Sucking your clit into his mouth, he keeps fucking into you, adding another finger and abusing your g-spot. You wanted an orgasm, and you’re gonna get one. Squirting is fun and messy, but he wants to get you to climax—one of those full-body, toe curling, tunnel vision kind of orgasms.

When your fingers curl in his short hair, holding him in place, Hiragi makes sure to keep up his current pattern, sucks with the same pressure, flicks his tongue in tandem with the movement of his fingers, never changing his pace as he pushes you further and further to the edge.

You begin to undulate beneath him, and even though he was about to use his free hand to palm his aching cock, he uses it to hold you in place, humming when your legs tremble over his shoulders.

“I’m—I’m, ohh~”

Your breath catches as your whole body opens up for Hiragi, pussy pulsing, blooming like a god damn flower as you cum hard, pushing out cream and another stream of squirt while your hips move against his hand uncontrollably.

“There we go,” Hiragi praises, “fuck, poor baby just needed to cum, yeah?”

“God, yesss,” your voice is thick and shaky, and you shiver almost violently as Hiragi fingerfucks you through your orgasm.

When the last few waves wash over you, and you’re only jerking from aftershocks, Hiragi removes his fingers only to replace them with his tongue. He licks inside your creamy cunt, cleaning you like the fucking gentleman he is, leaking precum into his jeans as he tastes every part of your hole he can reach.

You moan so pitifully for him, breathless and cute, and when Hiragi finishes, he kisses your clit like he’s married to it, sweet and chaste.

Wiping part of his face on his shoulder, Hiragi leans over you again, smirking at your fucked-out expression. Your eyes are glassy, smile dazed and goofy.

“Feelin’ a little more relaxed?”

You giggle drunkenly. “Mmmuch more, thank you.”

“Any time,” he responds honestly because truly, he could eat that pussy all day every day.

Am I pretty? What a dumb question. You’re a fucking masterpiece.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get home and jack off ‘til my dick bleeds.”

Your snort is undignified and adorable. “You could always just fuck me.”

Tempting, but, “babydoll, if I fuck you in the state I’m in right now,” —he gestures to his confined, throbbing cock, “—I will hurt you.”

You groan like you want it, but Hiragi can’t. He would destroy you with how pent up he is now, would bruise every part of you and wouldn’t be able to stop. He probably wouldn’t even be able to pull out. Christ, to cum in that pussy…

“Call me if you need anything,” he tells you, helping you sit up again, eyes wandering to your bouncing tits. He wants to bite them, mark them up with his teeth and tongue.

Another time, maybe. Hopefully.

“Anything?” you play, displaying yourself while you stretch what are sure to be sore muscles.

Hiragi chuckles, “anything.” He pulls you into a long kiss, the kind that leaves him a little dizzy, and adds a mumbled, “just don’t tell your brother.”

He leaves after gathering your clothes for you, drives back to his own apartment at break-neck speed, jacks off so many times that his cock is raw by the time he’s finally satisfied.

Matsumoto is gonna be so pissed if he ever finds out, but it was kind of irresponsible of him to put Hiragi in this situation. You should come with a damn warning—caution tape tied around your neck in a little bow.

How is he supposed to focus on keeping you safe around town when all he can think about is tasting you again?

Of course, there’s always the chance that this was a one-time thing. You’ll wake up in the morning, feel better now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, tell Hiragi ‘thanks, but that was a mistake’, and he’ll have to agree with you because it was.

Fucked up as it is, he hopes you’ll make a few more mistakes with him.

[brodygold]

The Golden Haunted House

Collaboration with my bro and our head recruiter @polo-drone-009. Thanks for the pics bro! Also yes this is like my fifth Halloween story I can't help it.

Cody and I had been best friends for years, and for almost as long, we’d been dating. We were two nerdy, scrawny guys who shared a love of video games, comic books, and the thrill of exploring every weird, haunted house attraction we could find each Halloween. This year, though, we’d heard rumors about a haunted house set up by a local soccer team, the Golden Army. The place had garnered a strange reputation, with people saying it wasn’t just any haunted house, but an “experience you’d never forget.”

Naturally, our curiosity got the better of us, and on Halloween night, we found ourselves at the entrance to the haunted house in our standard mummy costumes, staring up at a large, ominous banner that read “Golden Army Haunted House: Enter If You Dare.” Cody chuckled, nudging me in the ribs. “Guess these jocks are trying to get in on the spooky season. Should be fun, huh?”

I smirked, tugging my hoodie tighter around me. “Yeah, probably just a bunch of dumb jump scares. They probably spent more time on their uniforms than the actual setup.” Cody laughed, and we both shared a knowing grin. Jocks weren’t exactly our people, and the idea of a bunch of soccer players putting on a haunted house seemed almost comical.

But as soon as we stepped inside, that lightheartedness faded. The air was thick with a strange smell—a mix of sweat, leather, and something almost earthy, like the smell of grass after it rains. Dim lights illuminated a fog-covered floor, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and move. I felt a slight chill creep down my spine. There was something intense about the space, something… different.

Cody leaned close, squeezing my hand. “Guess they’re taking this more seriously than I thought,” he whispered, his voice tinged with nervous excitement.

We took a few steps forward, venturing deeper into the dimly lit corridor that seemed to stretch on endlessly. The shadows played tricks on our eyes, shifting and flickering. Then, out of nowhere, a figure burst from the darkness, lunging at us with a terrifying snarl. Cody and I both shrieked, clutching each other in surprise before dissolving into nervous laughter. Our reactions were way more intense than I’d expected.

But as the adrenaline rushed through me, I felt this weird, pulsing warmth spread across my chest. My laughter sounded different, almost… deeper. I shrugged it off, trying to brush away the lingering heat in my veins. Cody looked at me with a raised eyebrow, his own face flushed, but he seemed more amused than anything.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, smirking. “You sounded like a full-on dude-bro.”

I laughed, though the laugh rumbled deeper than I expected. “Hey, you did too, bro.” The word slipped out easily, like second nature. It felt strange, yet also oddly natural, and Cody didn’t seem to notice or mind. He just grinned and shrugged, looking almost proud in a way that felt… new.

We walked hand in hand into the next room, where mannequins lined the walls, each dressed in a golden soccer jersey. They were posed as if frozen in the middle of a game—muscular arms flexed, powerful legs braced for action. The figures looked so lifelike that I almost thought they were breathing. For a moment, I felt something in me stir, a strange sense of admiration and envy. These mannequins looked strong, confident—everything I wasn’t. Cody seemed just as transfixed, his gaze lingering on the broad shoulders and chiseled forms of the mannequins.

The silence was abruptly shattered by the blare of a whistle from above. Both Cody and I clapped our hands over our ears, groaning at the piercing sound. “Man, that’s intense,” Cody muttered, his voice sounding… different. Lower, more solid. I glanced over, my eyes widening slightly as I noticed his jawline looked more defined, his cheekbones sharper in the dim light. It was as if his face had taken on a rugged, more mature edge.

“Did you… did you do something with your hair?” I asked, half-joking, though a small part of me wondered if I was actually seeing things. He just chuckled, brushing off the comment, but I noticed him roll his shoulders back, as if feeling the weight of his own frame differently.

Moving into the next room, I felt my own body tingle, a subtle hum of energy that made me feel… stronger? The dim, eerie lighting made it hard to tell for sure, but I could swear my own shoulders looked broader, my chest more solid. I took a deep breath, feeling my shirt stretch slightly across my pecs in a way that it hadn’t before. A flicker of excitement bubbled up in me, unexpected but welcome.

“Come on, man,” I heard myself say, my voice carrying a hint of confidence, maybe even cockiness. “Let’s keep going. This place is kinda awesome.” I felt a strange sense of pride just being here, like I belonged in this place. Cody nodded, and for a moment, he looked at me with something like admiration in his eyes. It felt… good. Like we were equals in some unspoken way.

The next room was pitch black, except for a spotlight illuminating a pair of cleats on a pedestal. Voices whispered all around us, chanting “Golden Army… Golden Army…” over and over, echoing in my mind. The words seemed to sink into me, filling me with a strange warmth and pride. I wanted to be a part of this, to belong to something powerful and unbreakable.

The chant grew louder, and I felt the muscles in my body tensing, like they were coming alive. Cody grabbed my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, and I could feel the strength in his grip—a grip that felt more solid than it had before. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, it was like we were connected on a deeper level, bound by something unspoken.

“Golden Army…” he murmured, almost as if the words were a prayer, a mantra we’d both known all our lives. It made sense. We’d always been part of this, hadn’t we?

By the time we moved to the next room, we both felt different—stronger, bolder. A large mirror covered one of the walls, and I caught my reflection. My shoulders were broader, my shirt tight against my chest, showing off a physique I knew I hadn’t had when I walked in. My arms were thicker, veins standing out faintly beneath the skin. I glanced over at Cody, who seemed equally transformed. His posture had changed—more confident, almost cocky, and his arms looked… huge.

“Whoa,” I said, though the sight didn’t alarm me. It felt… right, natural. I flexed my arm, watching the way the muscle moved under my shirt. Cody did the same, his eyes lighting up with pride. We looked at each other, sharing a grin that held more than a hint of competitive energy. “Looking good, bro,” he said, punching my arm playfully.

“You too, man,” I replied, my voice carrying that same pride. It was strange, but it felt like I’d known this version of Cody forever. Like we’d been teammates, brothers on the field, for as long as I could remember.

The next room was a replica of a locker room, complete with golden jerseys hanging neatly in open lockers. Each jersey bore a different name, but I felt drawn to a specific one, like it was calling me. The name on it read “Jake.” Cody seemed to gravitate toward a different locker, his fingers brushing over a jersey labeled “Dan.” We exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between us. Without hesitation, I pulled the jersey off the hanger and slipped it on. It fit perfectly, hugging my chest and shoulders like it was made just for me. Cody did the same, pulling his jersey over his head and smoothing it down over his muscled torso.

For a moment, we just stood there, taking each other in. We looked like different people—no, like the same people we’d always been, just… more complete. More right. The jerseys felt like they belonged on us, like we’d been wearing them forever.

Suddenly, a towering figure in a golden jersey stormed into the room, barking orders at us like a drill sergeant. “You boys think you’re Golden Army material?” he growled, his eyes intense and challenging.

“Yes, sir!” Cody and I shouted in unison, our voices filled with pride. We didn’t even think about it—the words came naturally, with conviction. We felt honored to be here, like we’d earned our place. I glanced over at Cody, no longer thinking of him as my boyfriend but as Dan, my teammate, my brother on the field. And I knew, deep down, he felt the same about me.

We marched into the final room together, feeling powerful, unstoppable. Every step was steady and assured, each movement purposeful. I glanced down at my arms, now sculpted and muscular, veins prominent under the skin. Cody looked just as transformed, his once-slight frame now radiating strength and confidence. We weren’t the nerdy couple who’d walked in just an hour ago; we were Jake and Dan, proud members of the Golden Army, ready to crush it on the field.

As we left the haunted house, the cold night air hit us, but it didn’t faze us. Our only thought was that we were here, together, as teammates, as brothers. The last remnants of our old selves faded, leaving only pride, loyalty, and an unbreakable bond. All that mattered now was the team, the game, and each other.

[stormcrow13]

Rolling with Difficulties and a breakdown of project creep

Rolling with Difficulty is a live play 5e D&D Planescape podcast. Sophia, who plays Dani (does the Moviestruck podcast and is Overly Sarcastic Productions editor/producer) made several jokes about precious moments figurines in Season 3 so I wanted to make precious moments figurines of the characters. I started that in January of 2023 when Season 3 was playing and I posted it on April 1 of last year.

Since I made those I thought I might as well make minis and since I wanted to reduce the number of packages I held off on sending the precious moments to the RWD PO Box. And since I wanted everything, other than the precious moments figures(because I showed them off while making them), to be a surprise I didn't post any of them. Austin the DM thought that Intellect devourers are too goofy with dog legs so he gave his spider legs which I though was cool so I made it and printed a few. @comicaurora, who plays Kyana, posted some concept art of an ancient drone that appeared for a chapter of Aurora and I was inspired by the one she labeled as dumb so I modeled it. I thought it would be weird to only send one concept and not the one that appears in the comic so I did those too. They got posted earlier and separately since they are not RWD.

By the end of Season 3 I had modeled the original crew and Dani's robot cat Plug and printed a mini of each(plus and extra Dani for season 1 red Dani) for their player and Austin. I though I should send a Plug in scale with the Precious Moments figures and that the rest of the crew would want them. So I printed one for every cast member.

And then between seasons 3 and 4 they did a Weird Little dude one shot giving official art for every crew member's companion. One of Finbar's pixies Old Bay, one of VR-LA's mechanical bugs Drone, and Kyana's pseudo dragon Sunny. So I modeled all of them and printed one for their player and one for Austin. I was trying to paint and send out all them before Season 4 started so I wouldn't have to model Vhas. Well Season 4 ended in September 2023 and I'm posting this now. Season 5 was announced to be the last about the crew of the Per Aspera and I was still procrastinating on painting them so I made peace with them not being painted and just sent them. Austin told me he opened the packages right before recording the last episode of Season 5.

And I ended up needing to send them in two boxes despite not wanting to send more than one being the reason I delayed sending them.

The Models can be Downloaded for free from

Printables: Crew, Weird Little Dudes, Intellect Devourer

Thingiverse: Crew, Weird Little Dudes, Intellect Devourer

If you want to help me keep making free models or to tell me what I should make next please check out my Patreon

[sant-riley]

Uhhh brain wracking brain wracking-

Imagine S/O surprising Ghost with their strength by picking him up and perhaps spinning him around

They insist that he's as light as a feather. They're visibly struggling while holding him up

Thank you anon for the food, I haven't written anything in AGES I'm sorry if I'm rusty but fuck it we ball, gonna do these as bullet points!

Warnings; nothing I can think of! But as always, lmk!

(Literally me and Simon)

Trying and somewhat achieving in picking up Simon!

The first time you bring it up, asking if you can attempt it, Simon looks at you like you're fucking stupid.

He's a big dude, bigger than most and will almost always be the biggest person in the room, he's built like a fucking mountain.

You throwing him pretty eyes and begging for his permission isn't gonna change the fact that you're smaller than him, you'll hurt yourself, he knows you will, so he says no.

This does nothing to ward you off, only fueling you to want to work out and gain upper arm and body strength to prove him wrong out of spite.

He'll ask Soap where you've been in the last few weeks,, noticing your slight absence when training hours are over, nowhere to be found an hour or so afterwards.

Soap only chuckles and throws a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the gym where the creaks of the workout gear can be heard still.

"They're still workin' wouldn't tell me why though."

Simon makes his way towards the gym, leaning on the doorway as he sees you huff and puff as you do sets of bicep curls.

He can't help but a small smirk run under his mask, you're so committed to this. It's so stupid, but he can't deny it makes him happy.

No one can just pick the man up, takes Price, Gaz and Soap usually to keep up right and that's with his arms thrown around their shoulders.

He still doubts you'll be able to, but he's flattered. You're trying (asshole)

Simon creeps silently to you, waiting til you set down the weights before whispering out a "boo", his shit eating grin when you yelp and whirl around, wide eyes staring oh so prettily up at him.

"What the fuck! Why would you do that?" "It's funny." "It is fucking not." "Mmm, sure is."

He moves to ruffle your hair, ignoring your hand swatting at his own.

"Why are you here afterhours? You're missing chunks of your dinner." He knows why, he just wants to hear you admit it.

"Is it a crime to work out some more? To stay in top shape for our job?" The eyebrow he raises is catastrophic, immediately calling you the fuck out without any words.

"Okay, fine. I've been working out so I can prove to you I can pick you up."

At this point, he figures he can humor you, you've been trying so hard.

"Y'know what? Why the hell not, cmon, try and lift me."

"Are you fucking with me or-" "hurry up before I change my mind." "Aye Aye sir."

He stands in front of you, arms loosely at his side, head tilted to the right as he watches you get into form.

The key to lift with your legs, the strength in them far outweighing anything else, wrapping your arms across his stomach (a feeling of electricity jumps up his spine at your touch, he hopes you don't notice.)

You take a deep breath, nuzzling your head into his chest and try your fucking damndest to lift this behemoth of a man up and to your and Simon's surprise, you DO manage to lift him up, at least an inch of the ground before your legs buckle and you shakily place him down.

A whoop leaves your mouth, jumping up and down as you giggle about lifting Ghost, "I did it! You weren't that heavy at all!" Simon can literally see the sweat on your brow, but he just rumbles out a laugh and moves to plant a masked kiss on your temple, congratulating you on your win over him.

You run out into the base, no doubt going to tell the others about your feat.

He sighs a gross lovesick sigh, and moves to grab your gym bag from the bench and follow after you.