#dunno i need to share my thoughts sometimes

[beevean]

Comparing CV and NFCV designs

I was having thoughts about how game designs were translated to the show. While I'm not a character design expert, I ended up having a fair bit to say, because most of the changes are fascinating, for better or for worse :P

1) Sypha

She's the only character I would say that was improved over the game version.

While Sypha never starred in any game post-CV3, and wasn't redesigned by Ayami Kojima like Trevor and Alucard were (excluding a cameo in PtR), we know what she looks like by her ending sprite of CV3 and the Fake Sypha of SoTN:

Yet another long-blonde-haired woman. Like pretty much every other woman in CV with few exceptions. She's carried by her mage outfit and her big hood that give her a mystique air, but I don't blame the showrunners for redesigning her.

Giving her short, reddish hair was a great choice IMO. It's a very cute haircut that doesn't fall into the "Stronk Female Character" stereotype (think Zafir essentially lol). Too bad they didn't even attempt the whole "secretly a man" plot point because it would have worked pretty well. Her clothes are simple, and I wish she hid herself in the hood more, but they work for her character. Full thumbs up!

2) Dracula

I'll use the Dracula from SoTN and CoD as reference, since those are the designs that inspired the one from the show.

His SoTN design is iconic, a true classy villain that inspires awe, and surprisingly faithful to the description in Bram Stoker's book. His CoD design isn't bad, very similar in features to the previous one, but with clothes more inspired to his "Classic" style, which makes sense. (the spiked wings are particularly cool)

... but I must confess that I prefer Dracula with black hair rather than white:

I know that LoI didn't happen in NFCV, but it would make more sense for the original Dracula. He could have looked like an older Mathias by the time of CV3... then the grief of losing Lisa would turn his hair white, as we see in CoD and after. Also it's just aesthetically more pleasing lol.

I like the outfit as well. The top is inspired from the CoD outfit, where he looked like a sorcerer, and the bottom is inspired from the SoTN outfit, where he looked like a noble (he wears boots, hidden here). Not particularly elegant, but then again this Dracula is neither of those things, so it works well enough.

It's ranked below Sypha simply because, well, it's just Dracula with a dye job, not much effort went into here. Hell, Kojima herself considered the idea first:

But it's a small change that works wonders and I like him a lot!

3) St. Germain

In CoD, St. Germain was meant to look very out of place:

He wears anachronistic clothes, and even his body build is unusual for the style. You can tell before he opens his mouth that something's up with him.

In the show, having a different background, he had to be redesigned:

He looks more time appropriate and stockier, but still recognizeable as the original character in physical traits. They even kept the hourglass!

I have little to add. The two characters serve different purposes, so they have to look different, and both work. I don't prefer one over the other, which is good enough. It was also a cute easter egg that N!St. Germain at one point wore the original outfit.

4) Trevor

Now we're getting into "obvious downgrades compared to the original" territory, but Trevor still looks fine for what he is:

Handsome in a scruffy way, combat ready (especially after ditching the cape), and with noble heritage. Nothing near as iconic as his CoD design, which looks both elegant and as combat ready as a veteran vampire hunter should be...

... but again, it's fine for the kind of character this Trevor is, and he's still aesthetically pleasing.

I do question, however, why Trevor starts out with his scar. In CoD, he got the scars on his eye and chest after the fight with Dracula, to mark him as a survivor of the Dark Lord at the peak of his strength. Giving it to Trevor simply because he got in trouble with humans is cheapening it.

5) Hector

Hector has the dubious honor of being one of the few characters who looks nearly identical to his game counterpart. As you can tell by the placing of the designs, I don't like this choice (Dracula notwithstanding because the black hair really is an improvement IMO), because they end up looking like discount versions of the beautiful Kojima designs.

Still, what more or less saves Hector is that his design had to be simplified, because man there is a lot going on here:

Hector's design conveys two important factors: he's a knight, and he's proficient in combat. The outfit's not elegant, but it's protective - look at the armor on his chest, his boots, and the guard on his left arm. His clothes overall look sturdy and comfortable enough to run and fight. He also has a ton of details that would be a nightmare to animate, such as the holes in his sleeves and pants, the chains, the skewed belt...

The simplification here was done with the right amount of care. The holes have become a motif, and the sleeves are no longer asymmetrical in color; same for the holes in the pants. The armor and boots still share the same motif, even without the detail that made them look protective (in fact, the armor is more visibly made of metal here, while in Kojima's style it's hard to tell if it's metal or leather). The belt has become a singular object, and most importantly they removed the black ribbon wrapped around the sash - it was most likely an accidental choice, but since that is Rosaly's ribbon, and ofc Hector wouldn't have it in this version, it was the right call.

There are, however, some problems with this. All these compromises make for a weird design in the context of the show: no other character has this extravagant design, even with all the simplifications. I'll explain later that he's especially jarring contrasted with Isaac. Also, it simply doesn't fit the character: this version of Hector is infamously completely ineffectual in battle, spends most of his screentime being used and tortured, and never once swings a weapon at an opponent (perhaps this is why he looks like he lost all muscle mass lol). Just look at the glove on his right hand: the reason the real Hector wears it is as protection when he uses his sword. Hector from the show doesn't even have a sword! That glove is completely useless for a blacksmith like he's supposed to be!

As a plus, this is what Hector is supposed to wear when employed under Dracula:

They gave Isaac the correct uniform (and I will have words about it). Hector started to wear his CoD clothes after he decided to run all over Wallachia to chase Isaac. Again, the outfit is not for work, it's for combat.

But it's not just the clothing that changed. On a positive note, I like his darker skin: Hector here is canonically Greek, and I appreciate it. I would like to see this bronze skin tone with game Hector's silver hair. On a negative note, however, this Hector's hair is very bad: not only it's a dull grey and not shiny silver, but the haircut is simply unflattering - why did they cut off the tips like that? It falls very badly around his face, it looks like a cheap, static wig.

(i'm not even going to deign words for how they drew child hector. that thing has suffered enough)

Overall, I don't know why they bothered to recreate the same design when it simply doesn't fit the character, and the character in general just looks like a downgrade, but I can accept the compromises in a vacuum. It helps that Hector's original design is just that good.

6) Lisa

Lisa also looks identical to her game counterpart, perhaps because there was no need to waste time for a minor character.

She's female Alucard with a typical mom ponytail. Nothing much to say.

And I will only say one thing about Lisa in the show.

Man is the style so damn unflattering for her.

She can look better depending on the artist...

But I'm not giving points for literally copying Kojima's design and doing it poorly.

7) Alucard

Alucard's design by Kojima is one of the most iconic in videogame history.

Look at him. Pure, effortless elegance. An absolute prince, graceful and deadly. The sheer amount of detail in his clothing are a fashion designer's dream. You cannot top this. Which is why I imagine the show didn't even attempt to.

... but what the actual fuck am I looking at here.

Again. Simplification was in order, I get it, I understand. But... really? Really. You did this to Alucard. You gave him the shittiest V-neck shirt and pants I could buy at the thrift store? Where is the elegance? Where is the nobility? Just having a long coat isn't enough to recreate the same style!

I also resent the scar on his chest, given to him by Dracula (unlike Trevor). That is the true reason he wears the shitty V-neck shirt. His S4 design all but proves it:

Now this is just nonsensical. What's the point of wearing a cape and a coat, but still going around with your whole chest out? I mean. We all know why. But it's ridiculous.

This is why Alucard ranks far lower than Hector and Lisa: his design has cheap fanservice as its priority, and I find that disrespectful towards the character and the audience. Plus, much like Lisa, the style is very unflattering to him.

I don't know what to tell you, guys. I just find him ugly, even in the best shots.

8) Carmilla

Comparing the two Carmillas isn't even worth it, but then again I could say the same about Isaac, and I don't want to be unfair :P

This is the most famous design for Carmilla in the games:

A giant, masked, naked woman riding a skull crying bloody tears. Nothing like any other foe in the series, and absolutely raw.

We also have "Camilla" from CotM:

Aww, she's cute. She's so pink and frilly! She has fins in her hair! Hard to imagine her as a villain. But don't worry, she also turns into a giant naked demon lady riding a skull:

So the showrunners had some good ideas to transport into the show.

... And they went for the most generic "sexy female villain" design they could.

She's not ugly, but... she's just boring. This design fits her to a T because her whole character is boring. They didn't even give her a mask, or a skull motif. Nothing. It's just a forgettable sexy #girlboss. Disappointing. Even the dress is boring - does this thing even have shading?

I guess they recycled the idea of a cute vampire villain for Lenore, but she's outside the scope of this list, so.

9) Isaac

And finally we get to the worst downgrade in the whole show :)

Where do I even begin with this guy. He's unlike any other character designed by Kojima, but not to the point of looking like he doesn't belong. What matters is that you can tell everything you need to know about him at first glance, and first and foremost: he's the peak of flamboyancy and insanity. You are not going to forget Isaac very soon lol.

But it's all the details that make the picture. He's red and black, marking him as a foil to Hector who is blue and silver. His outfit is obviously similar to Hector's, but fallen off of him and rotten (the "armor" on his chest resembles Hector's own, just stripped down). He has long forgotten anything resembling "sturdy and comfortable", but the bloodied spear tells us he's still a formidable fighter. The hair is anachronistic to say the least, but the way the bangs cover a side of his face contrasts Hector's billowing hair and draws attention to the tattoo on his face. He is covered head to toe with intricate tattoos, that must have been painful to get: a show of strength, loyalty, or masochism, you decide. Among these, he proudly displays a tattoo in the shape of the Devil Forgemaster crest on his back: this, along with the collar, tell us that he's slavishly devoted to his master.

This is Isaac's character, and the design does a fantastic job at telling us everything we need to know without even needing him to move or speak. I would say that his main characteristics are the color red (the hair, mostly) and the tattoos.

Yeah, good job not keeping a damn thing that made him recognizeable.

This is a dude. This is a completely average dude who rolled into the set and stole a costume for the role. No, giving him red eyes and a few dots on his face is not enough to give him an unique, memorable design. He's bland... neutered. And they absolutely did it on purpose, because this design is the complete opposite of the controversial original above - this Isaac is serious and "deep", not a gay clown, duhhh.

They don't even deserve credit for the uniform:

And may I say that Kojima, being an artist on a whole different level, was able to make the cossacks look elegant and dynamic, while N!Isaac above looks flat and boring.

Also, in PtR, Hector and Isaac match:

Because they're wearing a uniform. They have the same job and the same role, so they are wearing the same clothes. It's common sense. (it also makes more satisfying when at the end they diverge, displaying more of their personalities)

In the show, they do not:

Why is Hector, the ineffectual non-fighter, wearing combat clothes, while Isaac, the sharp and strong fighter, is wearing a full vest? Why is Hector wearing blue and Isaac is wearing black? Why do they have different crests on their armor???? IT'S A UNIFORM!

This is what happens when you browse the wiki without actually doing research on what the elements you're referencing mean.

Also, blue and black? Nowhere near as striking as blue and red. Isaac has something of a red motif in the show, only in his magic, but his personality doesn't match it. Even worse, Isaac wears blue in S4. Because he's not a foil to Hector, he is Hector but worse.

As for the tattoos, obviously I would never expect all those intricate tattoos in an animated show, but it would have been cool if he had at least the Devil Forgemaster one (even the extremely simplified version on this Hector's back), since even this Isaac starts out as being blindly loyal to Dracula. Instead, they thought that Isaac has a fetish for pain, and they gave show Isaac the habit of flagellating himself... which then got attributed to religion, and then was dropped lol. His actual tattoos are... weird? And overall they hardly matter, since they're concealed most of the time. Unlike game Isaac's tattoos, they don't convey anything about his character.

As you can guess, the reason Isaac is my least favorite design is that he's not just a downgrade: he's a downgrade that pretends, and is accepted, to be an upgrade. You can feel the contempt against the real Isaac, by showrunners who didn't bother to understand the character and hastly rewrote him to "fix" him. Isaac was deliberately neutered because the show thought itself too superior... although in retrospect it's funny, since they allowed a pink haired BDSM vampire in Nocturne...

[sapsolais]

!

[longbottomlove]

first time || n.l.

warnings: smut!

neville and y/n had been dating for about a year at that point, nothing crazy. they’d shared little kisses and hugs, maybe a tiny make out sesh a couple times. the little bit of tongue, heavy breathing kind that every guy dreamed about having with his crush.

but she wasn’t his crush. she was his girlfriend. he loved her. and she loved him. it was simple like that. they’d never tried anything further than kissing because they didn’t need to.

neville tried to be the respectful gentleman y/n deserved, but a nagging problem was starting to arise.

every time they kissed for longer than three seconds, shared a close hug(the kind that had her boobs pressed against his chest), or even if y/n cracked a dirty joke to pull a laugh out from their friends, he had a boner. it was hard to hide and hard to make it go away. neville was a virgin and had no clue what to do.

and then there were the dreams. dreams about his girlfriend. dreams where she was kissing him, touching him, speaking to him in a hushed whisper, neville we have to be quiet. neville we’re gonna be caught. neville do you want me? neville wake up.

and wake up he would. every morning. sometimes he’d wake up to a tent in his pants. other times it would be a sticky mess he had to clean before starting the day.

worst of all was the guilt. godric, the guilt. thinking all of these foul things about someone who had no part in causing it felt criminal. it made him feel gross and pervy. he knew he had to tell you.

———————-

“uh.. y/n?” he forced out. “i..uh. i have to tell you something,”

this was it. the moment she would dump him. poor little neville who had finally gotten a girlfriend was going to be dumped. his heart was racing, palms clammy and shiny with sweat.

y/n followed him into his dorm, taking a seat on the bed like he gestured her to do. she was confused. so confused. was he gonna dump her, did he cheat?

“so what was it you wanted to tell me?” y/n asked, eyes glued to her feet.

“well,” neville started. “i’ve, i’ve been having these thoughts. and they’re gross and about you. and i dunno, i just had to tell you because ikeephavingdirtydreamsaboutyouandimsorry,”

“what?”

neville looked at the girl in confusion. like she couldn’t have possibly not heard him and he didn’t wanna say it again.

“i keep having dirty dreams about you. and im sorry,” he repeated.

a sharp silence overtook the room. she hated him now. she had to. he had confessed his disgusting thoughts to her. he was done for. would she tell a Professor? Snape or McGonagall maybe? would he be expelled for repulsive behavior? or would he just be laughed at by all her friends?

a painful minute of silence rushed through the room, ended only by a sharp cry of laughter. she was laughing! neville didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing but he soon joined in and began chuckling himself.

“oh my god,” y/n started. “i can’t breathe! i cant, i cant,”

after a good four or five minutes y/n finally looked up from her laughing position and looked at her boyfriend. “that’s normal, nev,” she said.

“what?” neville squeezed out.

“to have dreams like that, it’s normal. i’d be concerned if you didn’t have those dreams,”

neville was very confused to say the least. his thoughts were gross… and here she was saying it’s okay.

“and like,” neville started, “every time we like, kiss and stuff, i get a- erm..”

“a what, love?”

neville vaguely gestured to his crotch, hoping she’d get what he meant.

“ohhhhhh. yeah… that’s normal too i think,”she said. neville was relieved to say the least.

it was nearing dinner time, and y/n had promised to sit with hermione and ginny during the meal. she pecked neville on the cheek and started towards the door. she was almost out when she heard a soft voice call out to her.

“y/n?”

“yeah, baby?”

“could you… maybe stay?”

[munsster]

rockstar standards

A/N: PLS PLS PLS DROP SUGGESTIONS FOR HOCKEY STEVE/EDDIE im having a total brainfart but i need to break into the hockey au game bc i love it 😻 (gif creds: @cuntyarmand)

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader, 90s AU

Summary: Corroded Coffin starts to gain some traction, and you can't help feeling stranded. 1.5k words

Warnings: minor angst/hurt comfort, fluff, pining, pet names (bug, sweetheart, sweets, baby), jealousy, undressed cuddling,

You watch him parade around the stage every Friday night. Sometimes he's playing the home stage, other times he books random amphitheaters and dive bars. But today, he's drenched in purple light on the outskirts of Chicago. It's by far the biggest venue Corroded Coffin has played. You sit by the pop up bar, but bodies are packed like sardines in this place. It's hot and loud, but it's worth it to see him so elated.

Even through his streaky eyeliner, you can tell he's adoring the attention of the pit. You can see their red fingernails and shiny tank tops and free flowing hair. You never thought Eddie would be the kinda thing you were attracted to. You also know he's not the kinda guy to be attracted to something like you. You know guys like Eddie usually go for the Pam Andersons and Courtney Loves. The Party girls. Not the ones who have nothing better to do on a Saturday night than watch a romcom alone.

That Sunday, Eddie pulls onto your street. It's late and he has a ringing headache. He couldn't think of anything better to do after touching down in Hawkins again. You'd headed home the night before, and it made his gut wrench knowing he wouldn't get to see you the rest of the weekend.

Your door creaks open, and he's smiling on the other side. He's already leaning against your doorway with the bouquet he bought earlier from the woman selling them on the corner.

"Missed you, bug," he huffs, "Can I come in?"

You step aside without another word, and he hangs his leather jacket on the coat rack like always. Something feels off when he sits on the couch to find you're on the complete opposite side from him. Usually, you're not shy about cuddling up beside him to watch a movie or share snacks or just talk.

He frowns and scoots closer, leaning in to grab at your ankle playfully. You kick his hand away, brow set hard above your lethal glare.

"Sweetheart," he huffs, tilting his head in confusion, "What's going on? Where's my cuddlebug?"

"I dunno, somewhere in Hollywood?"

His eyes nearly pop out of his head at that. You're his favorite girl and you know that. So why're you grilling him now.

"Tell me what's goin' on. What did I miss?"

And you look serious, too. This isn't some running joke he missed out on while he was away. He's not sure who bruised your confidence, but he's sure he'd like to have a few words with them. He hates the way your lip wobbles and your eyes avoid him cause it gives you away. That's how he knows you're heartbroken.

"Eddie," you whine, swiping a hasty tear from your cheek. "I just don't know why you keep me around when you could have any of those girls at your bon vivant gigs."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean, bug?" He barks it out on accident, sitting back on his haunches with a scowl. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm gettin’ rid of you."

"Eddie, please... you're gonna make it big and get shipped off to Tinseltown, and I'll still be here, teddy. Probably being someone's lonely, suburban housewife. It's what I'm made for, and that's not what you want."

"You're wrong."

"And maybe you should go," you whisper, choking back a sob and standing from the couch.

"No, sweets, you're wrong," he says, standing and striding over to you, "You've got me wrong, and you've got you wrong."

You cross your arms over your chest and finally look him in the eye.

"'S that so?"

"Yeah," he tuts. And he has the most charming, most dastardly smile you've ever seen, flashing his canines like a gentle killer. "'Cause I'm gonna take you with me."

"Teddy."

"Nope, I'm takin' you with me wherever I go, and there's nothin' you can say to change my mind. Even if you hate my music forever, fine, I'll fix you up in a nice five star anywhere we go. You can sit and watch all the movies you like. You'll be nobody's housewife, baby, 'cause I'm keepin' you."

You roll your eyes, batting away tears when he grabs your hand to pull you back to the couch.

"And what if I said that's not what I want?" you suggest, testing his rockstar resolve with your big, wet eyes and stubborn quips.

"Then I'll give you somethin' else. Anything else. But you're mine no matter what." If only you knew how proud it made him to call you his girl. To know you support him even if you don't love his genre.  "Now, would you come closer? You're killin' me."

You obey with a frigid pout, letting him drape your thighs over his and brush his ring clad paws over your cheeks, down your neck.

"But what about your groupies and the pretty girls at the bars or in the front row?"

"What about 'em?" he says, just barely shaking his head, "I'll have somethin' way better waiting for me."

You chuckle. "You're crazy."

He cocks a brow. "Old news."

When he notices how close you've gotten, he smiles. Your manicured nails graze over his chest with the only light washing over you from the dimly lit kitchen. He can't resist his palm curling behind your neck, pulling you close for a sweet kiss.

"Where d'you keep your vases?" he mumbles, remembering the tulips resting on the little table.

"Kitchen. Above the fridge," you say with your fingers already slotting between his to pull him towards the warm light. He loves you like this: sickly sweet and tender, holding him all gentle in your hot pulse. You go to reach for a painted ceramic vase, but he wraps his arm around you and turns you away.

"Ah ah ah, drop it, sweetheart. That’s my job," he says against your temple, holding the lip of the vase and patting your ass. He takes the bouquet from your grasp and sets both on the counter by the sink. You hand him a pair of scissors and he carefully snips the stems jagged, filling the vase with water.

His stomach flips when you wrap your arms around his waist and clasp your hands at his belt. He sets the prepared arrangement aside and turns in your embrace.

"All done," he says wickedly, palming your face with his wet hands. You jump back with a squeal, pelting a dish rag at this chest.

"Use a towel, you slob!"

He chuckles and wipes his hands on his shirt, tossing the towel over his shoulder and leering at you like he's starved.

"Come here," he mumbles. You go a little shy under his gaze, dropping your head and shuffling towards his presence. He catches you by the hips, dipping down to catch your mouth in a prying kiss. You grin against him and he groans, tugging you tight against his body.

"Always love how soft you are, baby. Surprises me every time." He shakes his wild mane and purses his lips for you to kiss this time.

"Where d'you want the flowers?" he says.

"Bedroom?"

His eyes light up involuntarily, and he grabs the vase, bounding off towards your room gleefully. You jog to catch up with him, and when you enter the threshold, he's expertly positioning the vase next to a stack of books on your dresser.

"Much cleaner than mine," he says, gesturing around the room, "You keep it nice in here."

You shrug. "Could be cleaner."

"You can never see mine," he teases, knowing full well you already have. He slings his arms low on your hips, adoring you in the blue light of dusk. "Can I undress you?"

You bow your head and whisper, "teddy..."

"Not like that. Just wanna hold you."

You kiss his slanted mouth sweetly, nodding.

He reaches for the edge of your soft cotton dress, pulling it up and over your head. He whistles low upon seeing your undergarments, whipping his shirt off and onto the floor somwhere. You giggle, helping him with his belt buckle. He traces your temple with his lips leaving kisses along the way. He steps out of his jeans and lets you lead him around the bed.

His curls sprawl out against your pillows, and he welcomes you into his side with a lazy smile. Your reach to touch his waist and softly feel over the scar below his ribs.

"Little tender, bug," he hisses. You bat your eyes up at him scared, pulling your hand away.

"I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "No, please," he whispers, cradling your wrist, his eyes locked with yours. He draws the hair away from your neck, replacing it with his fingers to dance down along your spine. You’re warmer than he’s ever felt before and thankful for it. His hands are cold, but he doesn’t have to worry about it for very long when you bring each fingertip to your lips for a kiss.

“You’re my girl, alright? Always,” he whispers and you nod, “always.”

masterlist

[toxicanonymity]

twin peaks.

4k, Joel x afab!reader x Tommy, ONE SHOT A/N: This is my @pedrostories secret santa gift. @endlessthxxghts, you're on my nice list. Happy holidays! ♥️ Ty for the flexibility and for engaging with fics you like, which gave more ideas 🖤. Please excuse the extra men, don't need to remember names. Ty @jksprincess10 for your afab insights! WARNINGS: I8+, Motorcycle Club AU, but Joel is no longer riding. You're a chef. Language. Bar fight. Blood. Gunfire. My first attempt at mild grumpy/sunshine. Passing reference to a bar server's prior SA incident. An OC gets in your personal space and touches your side. Hurt/Comfort. Minor love triangle, I guess, but everyone’s cool. Unsafe P in V, creampies. MFM but only joel inside. The men can lift you. You’re shorter than them. Competency kink, mild size kink, sharing. Starts in Joel POV. There are a few characters from The Bikeriders. BIKER JOEL RECS: both sides of the moon by @lunitawrites and (and ty for this list luna lol)  a minute from home by @agentmarcuspike, little mouse by @katiexpunk & @josephquinnswhore., the road to love by @jobean12-blog

dividers from @cafekitsune for POV change and time jump

“Changed the recipe,” Joel grumbles. 

Tommy shakes his head with a smile. “Ya know, brother. . . you might be the only one who comes here for the wings.” 

“Cause they’re the best. Or they *were*. Taste this.” Joel pushes the basket over to Tommy and takes a swig of beer, then adds, “If I wanna see some skin, I’ll go to a proper titty bar.”

The uniforms are cute at Twin Peaks, but Joel is there for two reasons: the wings and the company. He sold his Harley and quit the club after a minor accident. It left him only a little scraped up but scared his daughters to death. Now these biker bars are the only place he sees his old crew.

“Shit, they did change it,” Tommy concedes. “Maybe ya should send’em back,” he teases.

“Not a bad idea,” Joel mutters. 

“Really?” Tommy asks. 

“‘S’cuse me. Miss?” The scantily clad server turns around. “They musta changed the recipe, I can’t eat these.” 

“Oh no,” the server frowns. “Sorry ‘bout that, lemme see what I can do.” The server takes the wings back to the kitchen. 

-

A minute later, you emerge from the kitchen in your chef’s whites and Joel does a double take. You smile at him as you approach. 

“Oh, shit,” Tommy elbows him, but Joel hardly notices. He’s captivated by you, but he keeps a straight face. 

“Heard the wings weren’t to your liking,” you cringe empathetically. 

“Why’d ya go and change the Hot Honey recipe.”

“I’m sorry, hun. Hot Honey’s off the menu, that’s the closest we’ve got.”

“It’s *what* now? Why’d ya take it off?”

You sigh with an apologetic smile. “Wasn’t my call.” Then you perk up. “But I think you might really like the new Thai Spice recipe,” you smile.

“Don’t think so,” Joel grumbles. 

“He don’t like change,” Tommy explains. 

“How ‘bout a basket on the house?” You offer with a tilt of your head and raise of your eyebrows. 

Joel is flustered by your charm. “Uh, sure,” he mutters, trying not to check you out. Not much to see anyway with that chef’s apron.

“If ya like’em, buy me a drink sometime,” you add with a wink that makes Joel lose all his thoughts for a moment. 

“Yes, chef,” Joel nods, which makes both you and Tommy giggle. Then you turn and head back to the kitchen. 

“I dunno what they see in ya, man,” Tommy teases Joel and watches as you walk away. “Mm. Hottest thing here and dressed like a paper towel roll.” Joel fails to suppress a chuckle. “You gonna share?”

“We’ll see.”

-

The front door to the restaurant opens, and a hush falls over the dining room. 

Joel looks over his shoulder for only a second, then turns back toward the bar and mutters, “Fuckin’ Benny.”

“And the Jets,” Tommy adds as Johnny and at least half the rival crew follow Benny into the restaurant. Great, there’s Cal, Carter’s rotten brother. Real bad guy. Their motorcycle club is dangerous.

Joel gets his wallet out of his pocket and pulls out a few twenties, then downs the rest of his beer. “Didn’t come to babysit.”

“Think it’ll get ugly?” Tommy asks. “What about your new friend?”

“My new friend?” 

“‘member what happened with Carter’s girl?” Of course Joel remembers. Cal got handsy with her, Carter put him in a chokehold, and a nasty fight broke out. Carter got stabbed.

“Well, I ain’t in charge and don’t got a sweetheart, so I reckon chef hottie’s okay. Where’s Carter?” 

“Home. Can’t ride, already busted his stitches open once.” 

“Good. His girl ain’t workin’ either.” Joel’s face tenses and his nostrils flare as his gaze falls on Cal. “Cal shouldn’t be here.” Joel has to look away before his rage gets the best of him. Joel glances at a table of his own guys (now Carter's), and he isn’t surprised to see one of his buddies putting on brass knuckles. Ya don’t stab the leader and get away with it, but Joel sure wishes this would go down somewhere else. Joel does a double take when he sees another man at the same table reach for his hip. “Damnit, Harold,” Joel whispers to himself. 

“Better hit the boys room ‘fore all hell breaks loose,” Tommy mutters and gets up from his chair. 

—---you—--

Tonight’s the first time you’ve spoken with Joel, but you’ve noticed him before. His quiet, dark gaze is hypnotizing. The girls are all over him, and he doesn’t show any interest. He sits there scowling with his drink. 

When the chatter of the restaurant abruptly dies down, a pit forms in your stomach. Heavy boots click on the floor, and it sounds like they’re slowly circling the room like sharks.  “Hey sweetheart,” Benny croons out of view in that deep, smooth voice. He looks like a young, brunette Elvis. “You new?”

“Started this week,” the new bartender answers bashfully. 

“Bet they didn’t teach ya the whole job. Benny'll show ya the ropes,” says a deep voice that makes you bristle. It’s smooth. Southern. Sinister. It's Cal. You can visualize his infectious wink. 

One of your cooks puts Joel’s new wing basket on expo.  You compose yourself and grab it with a smile. “I’ll take this one.” You put on your blinders and don’t make eye contact with any of the men, but you notice Tommy walk by, headed toward the back. 

Before you make it behind the bar, Cal intercepts you. “Whoa, what’s cookin’, baby? You believe this, Benny? Keepin’ top talent locked up in the back.” 

Benny’s too wrapped up with the server to respond. 

“Thanks for the snack,” Cal tells you with his eyes roving your apron as he reaches for the basket. You pull it back. “Hey, what’s under this, anyway?” He skims your apron from the side and crowds you against the wall. He braces his arm against the wall, over you. “Got one of them sexy uniforms under this?”

“Excuse me,” you say and try to duck under and around him. 

“I wouldn’t move, darlin’,” Cal taunts.

“What the hell are you doin’ back here,” a man asks behind Cal. 

Cal laughs and looks over his shoulder, and you manage to free yourself. 

“Ain’t worth it, Harold,” Joel warns as he approaches, then Joel turns his attention to you. “You okay?”

-. . .-

Joel gets between you and the brawling men. You hear a blow land on someone, and they spit. Then there’s a click, and before you know it, you’re on the floor, tackled by Joel as a gunshot makes your ears ring. The wind is knocked out of you. 

Joel is on top of you, and time seems to slow down. Cal is slumped against the wall behind Joel, bleeding from the mouth and chest with a menacing smile. 

“Look at me,” Joel says and his massive hand turns your head to face him, bracing his other arm near your head on the tiled floor. “Look at me and only me.” His body is heavy on top of yours. 

You nod as chaos unfolds in the dining room. 

“You okay?” Joel searches your face. 

You nod again, and try to ground yourself with everything you’re physically feeling. The coldness of the tile under your hand. The weight of his body on top of you. The warmth of. . .the massive bulge pressing into your thigh. Joel doesn’t seem to be aware of it, but you sure are now. A wave of desire overwhelms you. Your thigh lifts against his hardening package and it twitches but he still doesn’t seem to notice with everything else going on. He glances behind himself.  

“Gonna get ya outta here,” he promises. “Ready?”

Behind you, someone opens the door to the men’s room, belt jingling. “Shit.” You recognize Tommy’s voice. 

“Bathroom,” Joel commands as he helps you up, then gently pushes you into Tommy’s arms. He nods toward the family restroom, which has a lock. “Gonna take this outside,” Joel pants as he heads into the fray.

“Joel, don’t–you’re outnumbered, don’t get yourself killed,” Tommy pleads.  There’s another gunshot. “Shit, I’ll be right there!” he shouts at Joel

“NO,” Joel barks. 

-

Tommy forces you into the family restroom and locks the door behind the two of you. “You okay?” he asks. You don’t answer.  You wouldn’t be able to without crying. He rubs your back, then searches your face. “Breathe for me, darlin’.”

You tug at the high collar of your chef’s apron, trying to unbutton it for relief.  Tommy quickly rips it open, exposing your tank top. His eyes linger for a moment, then he cradles your head and takes a deep breath, guiding you in your own breathing. He exhales, then murmurs, “You’re okay, honey.” 

You nod and take the apron off entirely, with him supporting you. “Yeah,” you laugh not to cry, but with tears in your eyes. “I’m good.” 

“Good, good. C’mere, darlin’.” His strong arms wrap you in a gentle, protective hug, cradling your head into his barrel chest. You take a deep breath, and the scent of his shampoo intoxicates you. “You’re okay,” he repeats. 

You pull your head back to look up at him, and the corner of his mouth twitches. Then something else twitches, against your middle.  That’s when you feel the denim slide under your hand and realize you’ve grabbed Tommy’s ass. What the fuck. You yank your hand out of his back pocket and stammer “Sorry–” feeling like your face is on fire. Why did you do that? You try to pull away but he gently holds you close. 

“‘S’okay,” he chuckles. “Adrenaline. It’s normal.” He dips his head and it’s close to yours. It gets a little closer, then there’s more gunfire and he releases his gentle hold on you. He bolts toward the door. “Lock it behind me” is the only thing he says as he leaves. 

You lock the door, then slump down against the wall. Is this real life? What’s gotten into you? Feeling up Tommy Miller in the bathroom less than an hour after you asked his brother out. Yeah, it must be adrenaline. The noise of the fight fades into the background while your thoughts drift back to Joel saving you. He’s so big and strong. So protective. You’ve heard how dangerous he is, but to see him in action? While he’s saving you, no less? 

-

Finally the noises have died down. You wonder if it’s safe to leave. You worry about whether Joel and Tommy and your line cooks are okay. You wait a little longer, then unlock the door and peek your head out. Cal staggers toward you, dripping blood. “It’s okay, I’m alright,” he drawls. Then you swiftly close and lock the door, heart pounding. A few seconds later, boots thud across the dining room and a punch is thrown. You hear Cal groan. “C’mon, man.” Another blow lands and Cal goes silent. There’s a knock at the bathroom door. 

“It’s me.” Joel’s voice. You’re still near the door. You unlock it for him. He comes inside and you must look terrified. He holds your cheeks, and his face and shirt are splattered with blood - surely not his own. He hugs you into him. “It’s me, baby. You’re okay.” His voice is deep and soft. He holds you for a minute. When he pulls back again to look at you, his eyes fall to your tank top and he wets his lips. He looks in your eyes again, then at your mouth. 

You close the distance with a soft kiss. Joel’s mouth spreads your lips open, and his tongue finds yours. As the kiss heats up, he pulls you tighter, moaning “Mm,” and you feel it again, you feel him. His hands slide down to grab your ass, pulling your hips into his, and he’s firmer. Lord, is he hung. He lets out a low growl from his chest, and he walks forward against you until the backs of his hands nudge the sink counter – thankfully clean. 

He bends down and his mouth latches onto your neck. He slips his fingertips into the front waistband of your pants, grabbing the button, then pulls away from your neck to pleadingly meet your eyes, and you nod urgently. He takes your pants and underwear down in a flash, then his hand engulfs your bare pussy and he groans at how wet you are. He kisses your neck again for a moment before hooking his massive hands, one of them wet, around the backs of your thighs. He lifts you onto the sink with a grunt as your legs wrap around him and you feel a rush of desire.

Joel sloppily kisses around your mouth with one hand between your legs and the other cradling your head. His scruff scratches you pleasantly. You grope him through his jeans, which are slick with your arousal, as you unbutton and unzip him. Then his own hand dives into his boxers and frees his thick cock, holding it at the right angle to slide right into you, pants and boxers resting below his balls.

“C’mere, baby.” He runs his stiff cock through your folds and you slowly grind against it with a moan. He spits on his shaft and his swollen, leaking tip prods at your entrance for only a moment before plunging into your wet hole and spreading your insides with his girth. There’s a brief burn, then your body catches up. On his second go, he bottoms out with a groan, and you gasp.

 “Yeah,” he sighs and begins to fuck you, slowly at first. “How’s that?” 

You can only nod, feeling so full of him you can hardly listen or form thoughts.  “Ohh,” you whimper as he stuffs you with his massive cock. Your skin feels hot. He speeds up to a moderate pace and you both moan and grunt as you fuck. He kisses and sucks your neck, moaning into your skin, then he breathes against it. He fucks you harder, deeper

“How’s it feel, baby–ohhh” He slams his pelvis into yours each time. 

“Ohhh, God, it’s, yeah, nngh–ohh”

Footsteps come down the hall, and stop outside the door. 

“Wait,” you whisper.”

“Want me to wait?” he whispers teasingly, slowing down to an excruciating pace, dragging slow and heavy inside you. 

You shake your head no. 

“Good,” he whispers. 

Tommy’s knowing voice outside the door: “Catch y’all later.” Then the footsteps recede. 

“Now please, please” you beg, wanting it harder again. You pull him close and grind your pelvis into his in just the right spot. “Ohh, Joel.” The pleasure overwhelms you and you whimper as you begin to clench and pulse. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” you nod, pulling him closer, keeping him inside with your legs around him. 

Joel erupts with a groan, filling your hot, wet cunt with warm bursts, slowly thrusting into you as he empties his balls. 

“God damn, you’re somethin’ else.” 

---a few weeks later—

"Ain't wearin' a stupid holiday sweater," Joel grumbles. You and Joel have been seeing each other, and now you're going to Tommy’s holiday party with him.

"C'mon, just for the party. It'll be fun," you smile hopefully.

"Gimme a break, baby. Nothin' fun about sweaters."

"Don't be a Grinch," you pout.

"Thought I was a Scrooge," he retorts. 

"What if I let you fuck me in Tommy's bed?"

He squints at you. "God damnit, my heart just grew three sizes."

You look down at his jeans and smile saucily. You don't have to make the joke out loud. "Can't wait," you purr and hand him the sweater.  

"Tommy'd lose his mind," Joel shakes his head, then raises his eyebrows. "And not in the bad way." 

"Oh yeah?"

Joel gives a low whistle. "You should see him droolin' when ya walk away." Joel chuckles, and your face heats up. 

"Well. Maybe we shouldn't, then. . ."

"Don't see why not," Joel shrugs. 

You look away shyly.

"What's got you all flustered?" 

"Nothing," you shake your head, but you can't push away the thought of Tommy walking in and losing his 'mind.' 

Joel smirks. "Don't look like nothin'."

"Just excited to see you in a sweater," you run your hand through his curls. 

"I ain't the jealous type if ya wanna give Tommy some sugar, too."

You gasp and can't hide your embarrassed smile. Your face is burning. "He told you.” 

Joel plays stupid. “Told me what?” 

Your hand drifts up to cover your mouth. 

“Just sayin’, if ya wanna grab him in a nicer setting. . .”

“Joel!" You gently smack his chest. 

“Musta been the highlight of his life,” Joel laughs. “Post-divorce, at least.” 

"Naughty list for you." You press his sweater into his chest and go to the closet to change into your own. 

----

When you’re standing at the door of Tommy’s ranch, your heart is racing. 

“Relax, baby.” He rubs your back. 

“You were serious?” you ask. 

“Yeah, but ya don’t gotta. Just sayin’ it’s fair game.” 

Your eyes meet and he cups your cheek. You whisper, “thanks for wearing the sweater.” 

Joel gives you a kiss right as the door opens, and Tommy teases, “You two need a room already?” Tommy’s wearing a festive cardigan open over a wifebeater and his huge belt buckle. He stands aside to let you in, and you don’t miss the way his gaze lingers on your mouth. 

Sarah brings her husband, and you spend much of the night talking to them, hearing old stories about Joel. It’s a small party, adults only, and most of the parents have to get home to their babysitters, but Ellie is staying at Bill and Frank’s for the week to help with their Christmas tree farm. It’s a real treat for her and also her first “job.” 

—

You don’t steal Joel away during the party, and he doesn’t try either. But when everyone else is gone, you and Joel stay for a drink with Tommy. He offers that you’re welcome to stay over since the kids are with Maria. 

“Where ya want us?” Joel asks. 

“Well, my bed’s the most comfy,” Tommy looks at you and adds a wink that gives you butterflies. 

Joel nods with an intrigued frown. “Whatcha think, honey?”

“Okay,” you nod. You’re afraid to act too eager, but can hardly believe your luck. 

-

In Tommy’s room, Tommy reclines on the bed, while Joel holds you in a hug. Joel turns your chin to meet his eyes and asks “Comfortable?”

You nod and smile. 

“Ready to be even more comfortable?” 

Joel kisses you gently, sensually. Then his lips become hungrier, and you lose yourself in his rising desperation. He moans into your mouth and pulls you closer against him. He walks against you until you’re at the bed, and when you glance back to make sure you don’t fall, you see Tommy reclining with his ankles crossed, palming himself over his jeans. He holds your gaze and begins to undo that big belt buckle, and you get a rush of arousal. 

With you seated on the bed and Joel looms over you. The curves of his hulking muscles stretch his sweater. Your eyes fall to his jeans, and you can see the outline of his massive erection. You reach for the button and he murmurs, “yeah, there ya go,” and affectionately cradles your head while you unbutton and unzip him. Then he takes his sweater off over his head and his under-tee rides up exposing his happy trail. “Let’s get that sweater off, Tommy.” 

You turn around and see Tommy is on all fours with his cardigan already off. He’s prowling across the bed, to the foot of it where you sit. Tommy sits up on his knees behind you, and wraps his arms around. He lifts at the bottom hem of your sweater and brings his mouth to your ear to murmur, “Yeah, let’s get comfortable.” You raise your arms and he takes off the sweater for you then cups your breasts. You pull off your bra from under your tank top while Joel takes off his jeans. 

“Shit, let’s take it all off,” Tommys says with his voice briefly muffled by his wifebeater as he pulls it over his head. “Nothin’ like three bare bodies all twisted up.” His giant belt clinks as he unbuckles it behind you. Joel steps out of his jeans, leaving the tent in his boxers on full display, making you gush. He bends down to help take your tank top off, then he kisses you as he unfastens your pants. Joel kisses down your body as he removes your pants and underwear. 

“Come on up here,” Tommy mutters and wraps an arm around you. He pulls you up toward the pillows, then stacks them behind himself and pulls you between his legs where you can feel he is fully nude and hard. His skin is hot and smooth. You're both facing Joel. 

You sit between Tommy’s moderately hairy legs, and his broad palms cup your naked breasts. “How ya doin’, darlin’?” he whispers into your ear. His cock twitches against your lower back. “Ready for my brother?”

You nod, “Yeah.” 

“He’s ready too.”

Joel is kneeling onto the bed with his commanding cock in hand. He pauses to squeeze himself, eyes roving over you like you’ve never looked hotter. “Look like an angel, baby. Can’t wait to be in ya.” Tommy lightly grinds himself against your lower back, then his hands come to your thighs, and you spread them open for Joel. 

“Always so good,” Joel mumbles, then kisses you deeply and you feel his cock run through your dripping seam.  You’re wet, so wet for him. He’s still kissing you, letting your lips separate every second or so.  His face pulls back and Tommy slightly adjusts you between his legs. Tommy’s cock is stiff against your back. Joel’s tip nudges your entrance, then he pushes himself into you. Tommy’s hands are still on your breasts. Joel leans over you, bracing his hands on the bed to either side of Tommy’s thighs. It still makes you swoon how his big cock stuffs you full. As Joel thrusts into you, Tommy ruts against you, moaning softly. The force of Joel’s thrusts makes you rub against Tommy’s stiff manhood and he groans.

“Feel so good, baby,” Joel breathes. 

“Take’ him so well,” Tommy  whispers. 

Your breath hitches and you moan into Joel’s mouth with his cock dragging thickly deep inside you. Tommy massages your breasts and grinds into you while Joel kisses you and fucks you good. It feels better and better every minute. Joel dips his hips and grinds against your front as he stuffs  you with his cock. You feel the tension building in your belly, and your clit twitches. 

You tear your mouth away from Joel’s and whine, “Joel.”

“Oh, baby, gonna cum already?”

You whimper and nod. 

“It’s okay, baby. Go ‘head,” Tommy whispers. 

“Yeah, let it happen, baby,” Joel agrees. 

Then Joel, with his cock still seated inside you, rolls his hips to put more pressure on your front, and  Tommy grinds against your lower back, and you clench down on Joel’s cock with a moan. 

“Oh, Fuck,” Joel whispers and he begins to pulse at the exact same time you feel Tommy erupt against you. The three of you come in a cacophony of grunts and moans and Tommy’s sliding wetly against your crack as his cum trickles down. 

Joel stays inside as he catches his breath, then slides out of you, and some of his cum drips down between Tommy’s legs. 

“Think ya might be the one I been lookin' for,” Joel mumbles. He gives you a slow kiss.

You get cleaned up, then you sleep like three spoons stacked together with Joel in front. 

===

Thank you for reading!

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

[skzdust]

Can I request a Han fic where the reader is an idol under JYP who also happens to be Chan's little sister?

I thought I wouldn't have much time to write recently but I LOVED this idea so I worked on it last night and today on my lunch break and I finished it!

This was such a fun one to work on, thanks for the request and I really hope you like it!

-----

Intimate

Summary: You went to your brother Chan's place crying, but you found his roommate Han Jisung instead.

Pairing: Han Jisung x fem!idol!reader

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345

Includes: fluff, hurt/comfort, pie as a comfort food, cuddles, sharing a bed (sfw)

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

------

You knocked on the door and stepped back, shuffling your feet on the hallway carpet.

You’d been hoping it’d be your brother Chan who opened the door, but you weren’t so lucky. It was Han Jisung, who’d always been mostly nice but teasing to you. You didn’t need teasing right now.

“Y/n! Are you looking for Chan—oh, what’s wrong?” His voice was colored with worry as he saw the tear tracks on your face.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, pushing past him and walking into the living room to flop face-first on the couch.

“I think he’s in the studio right now.”

“It’s four in the morning.” You mumbled. “Why is he in the studio?”

“Dunno.” You heard one of the chairs in the room squeak slightly as Jisung sat down. “He does that sometimes, especially when he can’t sleep. He goes and works on music.”

“Mph.” You groaned. You could understand that, you did the same, writing songs for your group in the dead of night. You’d been hoping to wake Chan up, though, not miss him entirely.

“Is there… do you want to talk about it?” Jisung asked hesitantly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You considered for a moment, worried Jisung might make fun of you if you told him the truth.

If he does tease me, I can just leave and text Chan. You reassured yourself.

You tilt your head sideways so you’re not talking into the pillow. “I totally messed up in practice for this music video last night and I’m worried I’ll be dropped or something. We’re about to debut, and we have to be, like… perfect.”

Jisung hummed thoughtfully. “And that was last night? Your debut is set for… less than a month, right?”

“Three weeks and four days.”

“Been thinking about it?”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

“I get it. It’s terrifying.”

You looked up at him over your shoulder. “Not going to poke fun at me?”

Jisung tilted his head, confused. “No? You’re crying. You know, I only do that when I’m joking around. I never mean it genuinely.”

“It still hurts sometimes.” You sat up, hugging the pillow.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung cleared his throat. “I guess… I go too far sometimes.”

You nodded, new tears forming in your eyes. “I appreciate that.”

“Oh, did I say something wrong?” He leaned towards you.

You sniffed. “No, I’m just… emotional, I guess.”

“Here, I have a solution.” Jisung stood up and walked into the kitchen. You watched him go, curious. You heard the fridge open and close, and he walked back in with a plate of pie and a fork.

“Oh, that’s my favorite kind.” You smiled.

“Yeah. I remembered you mentioning it a little bit ago and I thought I’d give it a try.” Jisung shrugged, holding the plate out to you. “It was pretty good, but I got a lot, and I had some extra.”

You took the pie and took a bite. It was delicious, comforting, and exactly what you needed. “Thank you.” You said, your mouth full.

He laughed, and you were suddenly struck by how cute he was when he was genuinely happy.

Although I’ve always kind of found him attractive…

“I’m glad you’re liking it.” He sat back down and held out his hand. “Here, let me have a bite.”

You held out the plate. “Should you… new fork?”

“I don’t care.” He took it. “Do you?”

“No.” You said, your face heating up.

“You’re all red!” Jisung grinned. “You do care!”

“Whatever.” You mumbled, unable to hold back your smile.

He took a bite, then gave the plate to you. You broke off a piece of the pie with the fork, hesitated for a moment, then took the bite. You handed it back to him, and he had another bite, too.

It felt intimate.

When the pie was finished, Jisung set the plate down on the coffee table. “Did that help?”

“Yeah.” You leaned back. “Why are you still up, anyway?”

He pointed to the TV, where a show was paused. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”

“Is something up?”

He didn’t look at you. “No.”

“I told you mine.”

He sighed. “I guess I’m in a similar boat to you. I’m really struggling with some choreography, and I think Minho is annoyed with me at this point.”

“Yeah, I definitely understand that.” You nodded. “But if you want to get good at the choreo, you should probably get some sleep, you’re not gonna be able to dance tomorrow if you’re exhausted.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Says you.”

“I don’t want to go back to my place.” You said softly. “One of my roommates was mad at me about… tonight.”

“Sleep here, then.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” You shook your head. “I don’t like couches, I’ll be brave and go home and lay in bed or something.”

Jisung thought for a moment. “I have an idea, if you’re up for it.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“We could both sleep in my bed. Maybe having someone else close would help.”

The part of you that had a crush on Jisung went wild.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” You smiled.

“Nice.” He stood up. “C’mon.”

You followed him down the hall and to his room, which you’d never been in before. It was a little messy, but you could tell he was organized. His bed was mussed up, like he’d been tossing and turning. Given what he’d told you, he probably had been.

He pulled back the covers and motioned for you to get in. “Get comfy.”

You did so, getting into the bed and pulling the comforter over yourself. You were suddenly exhausted, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. The bed dipped when Jisung got in.

You got an idea. “Jisung?”

���Hm?”

“Can we, um, cuddle? I’m just feeling a bit lonely, and I think it’d be nice, and I… I dunno, we don’t have to.” You rambled.

“‘Course we can.” Jisung opened his arms, and you scooted into them.

He was warm, and solid, and comforting, and safe.

Intimate.

You felt content for the first time since your disastrous practice as you cuddled into his chest.

“Chan might kill me.” He muttered, his embrace tightening a bit.

“No, he won’t.” You closed your eyes. “Chan’ll be fine.”

“Even if he did, it would be worth it.” He said with a soft laugh.

That was the last thing you heard before you fell into sleep.

[peeweekey]

everyone adores you (at least i do)

pairing: sam x reader

wc: 1.1k

tags: CHEEEEESY cheesy cheesy puppy love, mutual pining, sam is PATHETICALLY down bad, pre-relationship, abigail and sebastian mentioned, friends to lovers

synopsis: if it were up to sam, he'd spend every second of everyday at your side.

a/n: in all of my other sam fics, its reader embarrassingly in love with him...he gets a taste of his own medicine here lol!

With vanilla ice cream melting and dripping down your fingertips, coarse sand underneath you and the salty ocean waves lapping at your feet; you are a child again, sitting with your grandpa at the docks, watching as he reeled in a ‘big one’. Filling his bucket with loads and loads of fish.

Those days are far gone now, but the memory remains, as clear as the day you remember it. The feeling is nostalgic, sleepy in the way your senses are dulled by syrupy thick contentment. Beaches at sunset have that effect on you, you suppose. 

“This is fun,” Sam says, tone lacking its boisterous loudness, you almost don’t hear it over the sound of crashing waves. “I had a lot of fun today, farmer.”

Your eyes flicker to him, his green gaze dead-set on the peachy golden sky, the taste of sea salt mingling with sweet ice cream heavy in your tongue. The sea breeze is cold, whipping against your face and running through your hair.

“I did too,” you agree. “Y’know, I don’t get a lot of off time with the farm and stuff. This is a nice change of pace.”

He smiles, that sunshine smile you’ve come to associate with Sam. “I caught you at just the right time then, huh?” 

You shrug, your own smile mirroring his. “Auspicious.” He did.

The sun is setting, the day is coming to a close yet Sam wishes it wouldn’t, silently pleading with any higher being to somehow stretch time. He is barely a religious person, but the weight of his want is enough to transcend his own beliefs. Every second with you barely feels like enough; like sand slipping through his fingers.

One thing’s for certain, Sam isn’t going to just let it end here.

“We should hang out like this again,” Sam says, a little hurriedly, captured all in one breath. Shy and tentative, like a bashful child with a school crush. “Uh, I mean, do you? Wanna? Hang out with me?”

You can barely suppress a delighted chuckle from slipping past your lips, your chest warming with fond affection. “I’d be more than happy to. Yoba knows I need a break or two or I’ll actually explode,” you huff while Sam hums in agreement. “We can even invite Abigail and Sebastian… so can demo that new song for me, I see you all working very hard when I visit sometimes.”

He should be happy to hear that; that you’d be more than happy to spend your precious off time with him out of all people. You and him, him and you, Sam and the farmer. Your name connected to his with ‘and’, it makes him giddy, causes his cheeks pinken and pinken. 

Just the two of you, though. Sure, he loves his friends, Abby and Seb have been with him since day one. But it feels out of place—

(Sam, Sebastian, Abigail and the farmer doesn’t have that ring to it…)

“Yeah, I—I dunno, it’s just…”

The unfiltered truth is stupid, at least to him. Vincent is far too young for some of the things Sam longs to say. There’s a reason Abby and Seb hang out under his nose, he won’t blame them, they have their own secrets he isn’t privy to—too serious, too dull for him.

(And now with you, he thinks you might just be the one he can share his own secrets with. Because even he has his own serious, dull thoughts. Thoughts that he doesn’t want brushed away with a snarky remark or a sarcastic laugh.)

“I kinda like that it’s just the two of us?” 

His voice sounds unsteady, squeaky. Trailing off at the end, lost in the sound of water crashing at your feet. Phrasing his statement into a question that you could deny, that you could easily brush off—because if you did, he would too. 

(It would be a bummer if you did though, but Sam is cool with that, chill with any decision you make. Really, he totally is.)

You grin, bumping your shoulder against his, your ice cream is dripping down, down, down your knuckles. Once your skin meets his, you don’t pull away, you press closer and closer to his side. Leaning your head against his sunburnt shoulder—but he barely registers the sting—and your arm against his own. It’s a pleasant weight, having you against him—grounding and tethering him to you.

“I do too. Like it, I mean. I think I get to see so many other sides to you, Sam. Without the others and all that.”

Sam feels his breath hitch, his cheeks flush even pinker even with the sunburns. “Woah, phew, I mean—awesome… When, when do you think we can meet next?”

You tilt your head, running calculations through your mind. You’re very busy on that farm, he knows; but Sam can’t help but keep his hopes up, you’re fun company. Maybe the best he’s had yet.

“I know I won’t have enough time until my melons are ready for harvesting—and don’t you dare try making a joke about that,” you smile, wide and cheeky. Right as Sam readies an innuendo at the tip of his tongue; it makes his blood pump faster and his breathing stutters at the thought of you knowing him so well. 

“So how about this?” you propose slowly. “We spend one day every month doing all the stuff we wanna do, together. just you and me—fun right? I’ll even sleep a little earlier the night before.”

Sam bites into his ice cream—chocolate and your treat, at your insistence—though he isn’t quite sure if the immediate smile on his lips is due to its sweetness, or yours.

He leans closer into you, resting his head on top of yours, strands of your hair tickling his lips. Lowering his voice into a whisper so only you can hear.

(The secret is that you make Sam want. Want, want, want like he’ll never get sick of it. He hoards these stolen moments with you so greedily yet wants more.)

“…two days, two days each month.”

He feels your body shake with the strength of your laughter, warmth swirls all throughout his body, tingling wherever your body brushes against his own. Sam finds that he likes the feeling, the buzz of it—it’s addicting.

“Yeah, alright then,” you reply, mirth dripping from each and every word. “two days. We have a deal. Better?”

“Yeah,” he turns back to face the water, the ocean spray misting his face. “Yeah, a lot better. That does sound fun.”

Anything sounds fun when it involves you.

[0phiana0]

Luffy x reader! He's learning how to be a good boyfriend but it's a mess (a cute mess) that's it!

okay so this is actually the cutest fricking idea I love it. Sorry this is super duper short I have vacation tomorrow so just wanted to squeeze this in! :)

Living and Learning Luffy x Reader

The sun slowly drept down the sky as the smell of pastry’s lingered through the air. The cool breeze glided against my skin, pushing my hair ever so lightly as my body was pressed against the railing of our dock. This was the perfect afternoon for a great day. The crew had been docked at this island that, if I’d have to describe as the perfect vacation spot. My thoughts were interrupted by Sanji who had dreamingly called my name, beckoning me to the kitchen for dinner.

“(Y/N)-CHWAAANNN, dinners ready my love!” He swooned. I grumpily pulled my body off the railing, not exactly thrilled that my relaxation had been interrupted.

As much as I was annoyed at Sanji for interrupting my peace I couldn’t tolerate being rude to him or any of my crew mates. My mother had always raised me with an emphasis on manners, although ever since I met the crew my manners weren’t as apparent.

“Ahh..thank you Sanji..I must have lost track of time. My apologies.” My voice was naturally soft which had caused to him to swoon even more mumbling several compliments my way.

I slowly walked towards the door of the kitchen, still taking in the beauty of the view before entering. There sat all my friends already digging into the several pastries and food Sanji had prepared. I sat down between Luffy and Zoro. I was prepared to wait for my food as I had done so before. It was a daily occurrence.

Suddenly I felt a poke to my right shoulder. I looked to the direction of the sudden finger tugging at my shoulder. It was Zoro. His left hand held his plate barely off the table.

“I’m not that hungry tonight. Here.” He grumbled, clearly embarrassed and not exactly used to being so kind.

Before I could answer my boyfriend of two weeks reached over me and lightly pushed Zoro’s arm away. I noticed a slight glare being sent at Zoro.

“No (Y/N) eat some of my food! Here! Here!” I could barely understand him with all the food in his mouth. He moved my empty plate over and placed his own in between the two of us. I hadn’t even noticed that Luffy’s “little” shove sent Zoro to the ground.

“Luffy. He was just being nice. No need to shove him.” I stated calmly.

“Yeah! What the hells wrong with you idiot!” Zoro groaned, his arm pumped up in the air.

Despite both Zoro and I’s protests Luffy just kept digging in on his side of his plate, leaving around a quarter for me. Although I didn’t need to eat from his plate as Sanji gently placed down my own.

“Sorry my dear! Looks like your plate and Usopps got mixed up. I sincerely apo-”

Sanji is suddenly cut off by a kick to the shin. He lets out a harrowing yelp and his hands immediately go to his shin, holding his limb in pain. Everyone goes quiet suddenly, looking at the scene.

“Luffy..you bastard..my..leg..urg..” he muttered out curses.

I stood up abruptly, looking down to my captain and lover. I grabbed onto the fabric of his shirt and pulled him out of his chair. His face depicting confusion, not understanding what he had done wrong. I led him through the doors of the kitchen, hearing the crews voices grow louder as we both left the scene.

“Luffy..” I gave him a soft yet scolding look as pulled his straw hat over his face covering him.

“I..just..I dunno..when Zoro tried to give you his food for some reason I felt really angry. So angry I wanted to punch em. And when Sanji was talking to you it felt really wrong. You’re not his love. You’re my love. I done wanna share you..your mine.” He admitted.

I slowly gave a sigh as I walked closer towards him, pressing my body against his chest. “I know you weren’t trying to hurt them but..that’s not excuse. I understand that sometimes you get jealous but trust me I am yours. And no one else’s. You got it? So you don’t have to knock out the crews men.”

He lowers his head onto my shoulder, burying it softly. “(N/N)..?”

I softly stroked his back as his embrace gets tighter. “Yes?” My hands rub up and down his back comfortably. I can feel the shame and guilt exceeding from his body.

“Am I a bad boyfriend? Am I bad?” He asks, with a tone filled with sorrow.

“No. No you’re not. You’re learning and that’s perfectly okay. It’s okay to get angry but it’s not okay to act on it. Me and you are gonna work hard. Not just on ourselves but on us.” A small smile pressed against my lips.

My words must have been important to him, as he had taken his very trust hat off and plopped it onto my head. He leaned in and captured my lips in his. Not a possessive or angry kiss but a passionate yet soft one.

He smiled into our connected lips and his eyes drifted to mine. His hand pressed against my cheek as his smile widened.

“Okay, as much as I really do love this moment we should probably finish dinner. And you have some apologies to make.” He didn’t grumble but let out a toothy chuckle.

[idiopath-fic-smile]

i dunno if that counts as a wip, but personally i've been thinking abt the "conversation at the dinner table of enjolras' family" series for years now so i gotta jump on the oppurunity

oh my gosh, sure thing! when i checked my WIP folder, i learned i'd actually already written a second whole installment (and then completely forgotten about it) so i'll post that too, and then my new chunk after it.

first bit is here. throwing this under a cut bc it's not short!

Two

“So,” said Dad as he ladled the first round of Saturday morning pancake batter onto the griddle, “tell us about this boy you’re dating?”

Enjolras consciously steadied his hands, took a sip of green tea to stall, and reminded himself that if the relationship was real, he would have been dying to share everything he knew about the boy in question. With an unpleasant lurch, he realized this was almost nothing. He wasn’t even sure what grade Grantaire was in.

“He’s…great,” said Enjolras, hoping that with any luck, his panic could be read as lovestruck embarrassment.

Mom curled her hands around her coffee cup and leaned in, conspiratorial. “Is he cute?”

Between Friday afternoon and now, Enjolras had dedicated a staggering amount of thought to the situation, but he hadn’t made much forward progress. Any time he tried, his mind tended to get snagged, or caught in loops, or lost on wild tangents like, Did Grantaire really mean it when he said he would be okay kissing for the sake of this pretense? How could he possibly be alright with that? Was he kidding? But it honestly didn’t seem like he was kidding. But how would it even come up?

One of very few conclusions Enjolras had reached: he needed to find a way to lie to his parents as little as possible. The thought of deceiving them on purpose for months already made the pit of his stomach feel heavy.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, “he’s…got cool hair.” This was true, if asinine. “And um, a good smile. A really good smile.” Also true, although Enjolras mostly saw it either accompanied by a lot of sarcasm or directed at other people.

“So.” Dad craned around to face him, spatula in hand. “Good at smiling. What else?”

Really, Enjolras thought, he should have been able to anticipate this. He could’ve drawn up his talking points beforehand, like he had with the detention. Set aside the time to brainstorm something better than ‘cool hair,’ for crying out loud. He wondered what Grantaire himself would’ve thought of this conversation, the face Grantaire would’ve pulled at Enjolras’s ludicrous attempts to sound like a person with a boyfriend.

Come to think of it, he wondered what Grantaire was telling his own parents about the whole affair. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing. Grantaire didn’t strike him as the kind of kid to spend weekends bonding with his family. Besides, given the demographics of the area, it was unlikely that they’d be supportive of Grantaire’s—fake coming out? Real coming out under fake circumstances? Enjolras didn’t even know whether or not Grantaire was gay. On one hand, it was a pretty outrageous thing for a straight guy to do. On the other hand—well. It was a pretty outrageous thing for a closeted gay guy to do, too.

With no conscious input from his brain, Enjolras’s memory rewound itself, yet again, to the sight of Grantaire calling his name yesterday in the cafeteria—eyes flashing under that mop of wild dark hair, back straight, fists clenched at his sides like he was about to take on the whole school in one go and win.

Enjolras had seen him and thought, ‘This is why Nicolas Sparks books work on people. This is why half the songs on the radio are the same insipid story over and over again.’ Novelists and songwriters wasted all those words trying to capture a sensation and tame it into words but really it was just Grantaire—smartass Grantaire who was annoying and disruptive and weirdly moody sometimes, who refused to take anything seriously, who didn’t even like Enjolras—it was just Grantaire striding forward with Enjolras’s name on his lips, fury on his face, throwing away every scrap of popularity to back up a cause he had bitterly ridiculed just days ago, for no reason Enjolras could see.

It was a lot to think about.

God, Enjolras was in so far over his head.

“Are you blushing?” said Mom.

“No,” said Enjolras.

“Frank,” she said, “Frank, he’s blushing.”

Enjolras slumped down in his chair. “He’s—funny,” Enjolras blurted, because any line of inquiry was preferable to this, even admitting out loud that he wasn’t totally immune to Grantaire’s jokes. More than once, Enjolras had walked out of a meeting with a raw spot on the inside of his cheek from an hour of trying not to laugh at his most recent shenanigans. If anything, it was more of a liability than a point in Grantaire’s favor. He never would have been able to bring everything grinding to a halt by just shouting out quotes from Family Guy or whatever passed for humor among most of their peers. He was quick and clever and creative—and he used it to make everything infinitely harder than it needed to be.

He’d been different at lunch, though, Enjolras thought, squinting unseeing at the syrup. Once the initial shock of are these the next two and a half months of my life had started to wear off, one of the first things Enjolras had noticed was how much energy Grantaire put into making the table laugh.

“Sense of humor,” said Dad. “That’s crucial.”

“Yeah,” said Enjolras. “And—a good artist.” This was something he only knew from Jehan, since the contents of Grantaire’s notebooks were apparently top secret to the rest of the world. “A really good artist,” he added. It might’ve been true, at any rate. Enjolras couldn’t picture Grantaire concentrating that hard at anything but maybe he had natural talent. “He can draw anything. And he plays the drums.”

“A musician!” Dad called over his shoulder. “Let us know if he has any gigs coming up.”

“What did you say his name was?” Mom asked.

Enjolras told her. She grimaced around a mouthful of coffee.

“What?”

“I’ve met his mom,” she said. “She’s in my Jazzercise group. She’s—well, maybe he takes after his dad.”

“Why,” said Enjolras, “did she—” He frowned at his empty plate, but of course there was no way to end that sentence without scraping too close to the truth. Try to make you feel ridiculous for caring about anything? Roll her eyes at you for reacting? Mock and defend your friends in the same breath?

“What?” said Mom.

“Nothing.”

Mom pursed her lips. “I want to be fair, maybe I caught her on a bad day, but she—struck me as pretty phony. A very Stepford feel. Plus, when I told her I had a teenage son, she laughed and said ‘I’m sorry,’ which—you know how that kind of thing burns me. Like, look, lady, I’ve got a kid I feel great about, who I love spending time with. Don’t project your issues on me.” She took another sip of coffee. “I thought her son was younger. She didn’t really mention him but she had one of those middle school honor roll bumper stickers?”

“Does he have a little brother, maybe?” Dad suggested, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

Enjolras shrugged.

“How did you meet him?” said Mom.

“He’s—he goes to all the meetings, for the ABC,” said Enjolras, because stressing their shared history of detention felt like an unwise move and anyway this, too, was technically accurate, just in that slippery politician way that Enjolras hated—dropping breadcrumbs and letting the listener fill in the lie for themselves.

“He’s dedicated, then,” said Mom.

Completely dedicated. Not dedicated at all. I have no idea. “Yeah,” he said. “And smart.” Truthful, if misleading. “And—nice.” Maybe truthful? Enjolras seemed to be the only person he went out of his way to annoy, at any rate. “I don’t know,” Enjolras mumbled, which was, he thought wryly, the most honest claim he’d made so far. “I just—I just like him a lot,” he finished, and nothing in the words or how he said them was an act.

That was the problem.

Three

“So,” said Mom brightly, “how was Joly’s party?”

Enjolras chewed his black bean burger and fought the urge to tug up the neck of his T-shirt over the completely obvious bite bruise blooming slightly north of his clavicle. 

He swallowed. “Fine,” said Enjolras. “Good.”

“How are things with Grantaire?” she added and okay, yes, only a fool wouldn't have seen this coming.

Enjolras set down his bun. He couldn’t deal with Mom or Dad thinking he had been pressured in any way. The thought was not only abhorrent, it was completely out of character for Grantaire. Who, regardless of where he actually sat politically, had way more principles than he’d let on.

Enjolras summoned up all the sincerity he could muster. “Great,” he said, thinking of how Grantaire talked to Joly, goofy and kind, without an ounce of condescension. He could feel himself starting to smile. “Really great.” Dad cleared his throat. “You know,” he said. “When you came out to us as asexual, we assumed it meant we could skip over some conversations, but now, uh." Mom and Dad exchanged the slightest of looks.

"It's a spectrum," said Enjolras, face flaming. He hadn't articulated to them where exactly he sat on that spectrum, because for one thing he hadn't known for sure, and for another thing he could think of nothing more painful that tracing the exact topography of his attraction with his parents, for crying out loud.

"Well, there's no harm in knowledge, right?" Dad continued. His voice had the slightest practiced quality to it. Enjolras could imagine him going over his argument out loud before dinner, searching for the best way to make his case. Enjolras found this obscurely comforting. "Plus, you know," said Dad. "Kids talk about these things with each other and there's so much misinformation out there; you might appreciate the chance to be a resource for your friends. About dating or relationships, or the things that happen in a relationship. Is it okay if we go over a few things?”

Enjolras swung his foot under the table and carefully didn't think about Grantaire determinedly giving him a hickey in the kitten-wallpapered bathroom of Joly's basement.

"Sure."

"Great," said Dad, relief rushing into his face. He stood. "If it helps, I have some handouts I can go quick print out."

[magnificentstrawberryomen]

best friend!noah blurb

because this popped into my mind and had to write it downnnnn. 🫠 cw: smoking and blowing

it was all innocent at first, a fun time between me and my best friend noah.

we were watching our favorite movie together, laughing and quoting lines we can dream by now, and enthusiastically lean more forward the screen when our favorite scenes finally started to play, eyes glinstering with joy as we watched each other have so much fun with it. joy because we felt so at ease, so happy and comfortable around each other. truly best friends being best friends.

then, we each started lighting a cigarette, still innocent, still something we would normally do at some point. blowing the smoke out and sometimes choke on it when we bursted out of laughter again.

it started to become less innocent when noah said, “you know, how about we make this even more fun.” a mischievous grin lit his face.

i cocked a brow, curious what he had in mind. when he pulled out two joints out of the pocket of his jeans, my eyes widened—with the same kind of mischief and satisfaction. maybe once before i have shared a blunt with him, but that was years ago, and all very vague. oh and, i wasn’t really experienced in it yet.

i smirked, and answered, “go ahead and light them.”

then, half an hour later, things began getting even less innocent. we were rolling on the floor laughing, about the absolute dumbest shit, noah placing one of his tattooed hands on his stomach shaking with hard laughter coming out, joint in his other hand.

“fuck, noah,” i breathed between laughter, my eyes wrinkled from laughter, “you need to shut up quoting the movie with that silly ass voice before i’m gonna pee my pants or something.”

noah cackled, expression on his face amused and also cocky. he loved it when he could make me laugh harder than anyone else—both sober and high. “hm yeah? if only you could make me shut up, hm?”

i narrowed my eyes at him. “what do you mean if only?”

he shrugged with again that mischievous, yet daring glint in his dark brown eyes, rolling on his side on the floor we were still laying on to face me better, a smirk tugged at his lips. “dunno if you’d dare to do it.”

my heartbeat began to risen without even exactly knowing what he meant at first. “why not?”

noah’s amused and now even sly grin grew bigger, his face now a little closer to mine, making me flush uncontrollably. all the pretty details of his face were much more clear to see for my own lighter eyes now.

“it’s quite intimate, actually.”

oh. my heart stood still for a moment, and the innocence between us and the room dropped even more, being replaced with sudden heat and tension.

his grin grew even bigger than it already was when he saw the shocked yet flustered expression in my face, making wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, a pretty and attractive sight, the confidence at his side clear and intense.

the already dark color of his eyes darkened even more, flickering down to my lips for a moment and then back to my face. i could feel my hammering heart in my neck at this point. but damn, it was too hard to resist—the thought of shutting him the fuck up by kissing his pretty lips was way too tempting not to give in.

so i leaned in, breathing way more shaky and quick than before, feeling his own warm one fanning on my heated face. i licked my lips before then harshly crashing them against his own, as i was not able to make it gentle and sweet at this point, the need for him rushing through every inch of my trembling body.

noah groaned into my mouth, which made my cheeks even more flushed, and i placed my hand in the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer against me, feeling the softness of his long hair underneath my fingertips. our kiss was heated, messy and greedy, and noah pulled me on top of him in no time.

that was when all the innocence between us completely disappeared and never came back, nor did we want to. he has been my best friend for years, but god, i have wanted this a little too much.

“fuck,” noah breathes between our make out session, “you’re just so eager, hm?”

a breathless laugh escapes me, and i grin against his lips. “you asked for it.”

he grins just as widely back. “and i’m so glad i did baby—because i wanted you on top of me like this for way too long.”

[bloodyinkandquill]

Scythe x Reader semi toxic yuri/canon accurate

if you keep talking that blah blah blah blah💃🕺💃🕺 kesha fucks hard her music is amazing, anyways toxic yuri😍 ok wait a minute note to self please finish this before bed, ok onto tumblr i go for some reason im thinking of banhammer self ship rn so im reading other people’s works on him rq to fulfill my own wants lmao

had a awful mental breakdown, skipped classes, couldn’t sleep until 5:30, didn’t work on this, i’ll work on it next lemme do something else idk man just need motivation

5 days later i think, i dunno man i just need to get this done ok let’s do this, this will probably just be general dating hcs ill be so real not that i won’t write her with a male reader but i hc her as lesbian *shrug*

- ‘She’s the most wanted demon in the Inpherno!’ pretttyy lady… your friends may not understand but it doesn’t really bother you, you love her and that’s all that matters

- Scythe has an almost flirtatious demeanor to her but when it comes to you that’s cranked up to 11, she loves teasing and flustering you, even simple things she changes into an opportunity to flirt, causal conversation where you look away for a moment? You bet your ass she’s grgabbing your face and forcing you to look at her, and with that she sometimes blows cigarette smoke in your face, it’s so attractive but gods it makes you cough, it’s worth it though for her

- She adores dancing with you, sometimes it’s slow and intimate music at home while other times you’re at a saloon absolutely boogie-ing it down, if you didn’t know how to dance you bet your ass she taught you, she’d make fun of you tripping or messing up but it never was that serious just more so playful banter

- Lightly suggestive but she would so slap your ass as you walked by, it doesn’t matter who’s nearby or where your at, she will fully go for it, and then either carry on like nothing happened or crack up, never in between

- She robs bars on occasion and gets the best most fancy and expensive wines to share with you, telling you all about her latest ‘job’ as you sip on wine you’re pretty sure is worth more bux then you’ve ever owned in your life combined, sometimes she has little trays of finger foods with it like bread with cheeses but usually it’s just a table with the two of you drinking the wine as you admire her

- Scythe very much enjoys going into detail about her work with you, from the regular paper work, to offerings, to her kills, if you’re squeamish it’s not your lucky day that incentives her to describe them even more graphically, but if you fully support her and listen intently when she talks about them she’s not as graphic but loves the look in your eye and you listen to her ramble about her ‘assignments’

- Sorry but if you’re going to date her you had to join the Church of the TRUE EYE, let’s be so for real here if she’s legit dating someone they have to be in the church, she said it’s your choice but you knew it wasn’t, if you wants to be with her you had to join, she hooked you up good, a word to the father here, great accommodations there, she was very pleased once you agreed

- Pampers you in a sorta macabre way, brings you the most fancy and beautiful jewelry she got from someone she killed, takes you on a fancy dinner she doesn’t pay for by threatening everyone to kill the entire building, gives you bouquets she made from flowers that reminded her of the colors of her favorite horns she has framed on her walls, once she tried to gift you a pair of horns she thought were very beautiful, you puked, she didn’t try that again

- Her love language is words of affirmation and gift giving, constantly using pet names to compliment you, and we’ve already discussed the gifting

- With the pet names she obviously calls you darling with her hot ass southern accent, she also calls you thinks like hot and sexy, wouldn’t put it past her to call you hot tits I’ll be so real right now, if she did you’d give her the most disappointed look ever and she just doubles over in laughter

- Scythe’s dates are usually really fancy dinners or saloons, quite different but you don’t mind since she’s usually a lot sweeter on your dates, more lovey at fancy restaurants and more protective and touchy at saloons, speaking of no one could lay a finger on you or she will cut that finger off and feed it to them, she can and will murder anyone she views as trying to flirt with you or harass you, it’s sweet in a very messed up way

- Not really a hand hold-y person but she touches you in other ways, an arm around your waist, hand under your chin, leaving lipstick all over your face and neck, it’s usually more intimate touches, maybe if she’s feeling a bit more adventurous that day she’ll use her sharp ass claws to draw a small amount of blood, she just loves the surprised slightly pained face you make

ok finally got this done let’s get this posted i’ll probably head to bed after this, do the firebrand request and do a self indulgent thing of windforce then open back up requests! WILD LIFE SCDIDHKFHSJ (life series, any fans of the life series who read this talk to me please i’m going insane)

[s1m0nth3swag]

Kinktober 2024 - Gun Kink with Leon S. Kennedy

Hello hi its a little late but here's week 2 of kinktober

This one is slightly self indulgent because I love hot men with guns :)

If you like my writing and wanna support me a little, please visit my Ko-Fi! Thanks in advance <3

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: NSFW, guns, slight degrading, Leon's not actually into Guns just the reader, GN!Reader

Sometimes, Leon hated his job. Actually, most times. He really hated it. Not only because of the everyday potential to literally die, but because the missions kept him away from home for so long. He used to be okay with that, it didn't matter to him, he used to not have anything that kept him at home - unless one counted his comfy bed. By now, he had you. The two of you had met a year or two after he started working for the DSO, and at first Leon really didn't want to get close to you. You were so sweet to him, so pure, he knew he would ruin you if he got too close. You on the other hand couldn't help but get closer. In your defence, Leon looked like a sad puppy whenever you saw him, and you just felt the need to help him out. Very much ‘I can fix him’ fashion. You had snaked your way into his heart, slowly but surely invaded his mind, until he just had to ask you out. Now you two were going on two years, had moved in with each other and even adopted a puppy. Every time he went on a mission, all he could think about was wanting to get back to you safe and in one piece, every time he got hurt he prayed to God it wouldn't leave an ugly scar - even though the ones he did have were cherished by you. You said they reminded you of the fact that he did come back, and that he would continue to do so.

Today, luckily, he only had to go into the office for some paperwork. Didn't mean he didn't at least dislike it, though. He wanted to spend his time cuddled up with you, pressing his lips against every piece of skin he could reach. The thought alone made him sigh. It was already so late, he bet you were cuddled up on the couch with your dog, watching whatever was on TV while waiting for him to come back. At least his salary allowed you an easy life. His day honestly kept dragging on, at least until his phone buzzed with a notification from you.

‘I got us something so we can try smth new :)’ it read, and Leon was quite puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’ He texts back, only to be left on read by you. Jesus, you and your weird ideas. Still, he can't help but work a little faster, uncaring if he suddenly works sloppy.

It's not that late as he steps back into your shared apartment, sighing heavily as he rids himself of his jacket, hanging it to the other ones before throwing off his shoes. He calls out for you, your puppy already tapping over to him to receive some cuddles. He picks up the small canine, making his way through the apartment to find you. At last, he arrives in the bedroom, seeing you sit at the edge of the bed, a literal gun in your hands.

“Whoa, easy there darling, what's that for?” Leon says, his voice laced with shock. He was always under the presumption that you were the last person to need a gun, especially since you had him for protection. “Don't be like that, it's a fake.” You huff, a grin on your lips as you look over at him, eyes practically sparkling. “Cool, isn't it?” You add, holding it out to him. Leon lets the small puppy down, stepping towards you so he could take the gun. He examines it for a moment, and now that he can see it up close, with his trained eyes, it's clear it's fake. He shakes his head slightly. “Still didn't answer what's it for.” He grumbles. “Us, duh. I figured it'd be… I dunno, intriguing.” You answer, one of your hands coming up to tug Leon closer by a belt loop. “...In the bedroom?” Leon clarifies, raising a brow once you nod. “Jesus you're crazy. You don't actually want me to point a gun at you? Or the other way around?” He scowls, clearly not into the idea. “No, no not like that.” You sigh. “More like… the thrill of a gun being involved. Plus you kinda… well you look hot handling them.” your voice is barely above a soft whisper at that point. It's embarrassing how attractive you think he is, even when just barely holding a prop gun. A little pathetic, to be honest.

“So… more like this?” Leon questions, using the barrel to tilt your chin up slightly. Your cheeks flush at the coldness of the metal, and the action alone makes your knees go weak. You're glad you're sitting down, but Leon notices nonetheless. After so long, he can basically read every single of your slightest movements. “You're actually into this.” He states with slight disbelief, trailing the gun down your throat. Your breath catches as you keep your gaze firmly on him. “Jesus…” Leon mutters, stepping to stand in front of you properly. He really isn't sure what to think of this, he's happy to give you your pleasure, but he still doesn't like the whole thing of desensitising you to him holding a literal weapon, no matter if this one is fake. Nonetheless, the look you give him is enough for him to continue. You want this, badly at that, and who is he to not give it to you?

Moments later Leon's got you laid over the bed, puppy thrown out and door locked for double measure. He's already rid you of your clothing, tracing the cold metal of the gun down your chest and abdomen. He's lazy with it, sometimes tracing lines, sometimes slight patterns, though with no particular motive other than watching you squirm. You don't want to beg just yet, you already feel pathetic enough like this, you don't need to give him the extra achievement of making you beg within minutes. So, Leon just does whatever, never getting close to where you so desperately want him to be. He lets the muzzle grace your thighs once, you whine at the sensation before he chuckles into your ear, retreating the gun back to your chest. “Lee…” you mutter with a soft pout, giving in. “please… just fuck me, yeah..? I've been good…” you hum, turning your head to press soft kisses against his jawline. “Just waited for you to ask, love.” Leon responds, ever so slowly tracing the gun down your body in a straight line. “You're so mean sometimes..” you grumble as he casually angles one of your legs to have better access.

You almost yelp as the metal glides against your entrance, teasing ever so slightly. “Leon..!” You huff, trying to shoot your boyfriend a glare, though your brain quickly focuses back on the feeling of the gun as Leon pushes it inside softly. “Taking it so well, aren't you?” He grins, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he slowly pushes it in fully, until the trigger guard also presses against your skin. You whine slightly, the metal quickly heating up from being inside you, still, the coldness from the start lingers in your mind. Leon rocks the gun into you for a while, watching your reactions in amusement. Usually, he'd enjoy watching you come undone on his dick, but honestly, this wasn't half bad either. You're awfully turned on by this whole situation, and Leon can't help but feel a little bit hungry about it. If he had known you get this turned on by guns, of all things, he would have brought some if his home to clean sometimes. “Such a slut, aren't you?” He teases, nipping at the skin of your neck slightly. You clench around the gun, your orgasm approaching faster than you'd like to admit. Leon reads all your little signs, trailing his free hand over your side in a featherlight touch, before gripping your hip, tugging you against him a bit more, pushing the gun a little more harshly, letting it rest inside for a moment. Meanwhile, his other hand trails to your core, working on it swiftly, with practiced movement that makes you see stars. You seriously can't help but cum, all of this was just too much for you in the best way possible. Leon huffs, pulling the gun out of you. “Made such a mess, baby.” He mumbles, placing kisses against your neck. “Don't think we need this thing for the next round, though.” He grins, casually throwing the gun on the ground before letting you catch your breath for round two.

[shattersstar]

absolutely NEED "hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them" with jason todd PLEASE (when you have the chance/motivation) <3

drawstring

pairing: college!au jason todd x reader

prompt: friends to lovers - hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them

word count: 5.5k

warnings: alcohol/smoking mention aka usual college shenanigans, slow burn(?), lil angsty, sports lmao

a/n: writing abt jason in college (here) has done smth to me bc this turned into quite the project (in a good way ofc) and i picked basketball bc it’s the only sport i know enough abt and jason’s tall so it makes sense shhh (also baby boys a centre <3) comments & feedback are always appreciated!

—

shot at the night series.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

—

your name is a drawstring laced around my neck, tighter with every breath.

You had approached him first, after your prof caught you off guard with an outlandish take. You glanced over to Jason with your confused and slightly mortified eyes at the rather dated opinion, unable to stop the grin from spreading over your face as you both chuckled a little too loudly. A few people shot looks your way, and you mouthed an apology to him before you both turned back to your notes. Jason thought that had been it, sure you two always sat a chair away from each other and were in the same tutorial and you always smelled so good when he’d walk by, but you were a passing figure in Jason’s life.

Or you were supposed to be until you stopped him at the door, fingers darting out to brush his forearm before you dropped your hand to your side. You offered an apologetic smile while Jason stared at you a little wide eyed.

“Hey, sorry. I just, I dunno. Anyway we were in the same tutorial yeah? And I thought I’d introduce myself. In case we need notes or help or something.” You said, giving him your name while Jason nodded slowly.

A moment of silence passed, you blinked up at him and Jason laughed, “Oh, uh I’m Jason, and yeah sure.”

“Yeah sure? You don’t have to agree if—“

“No—I didn’t mean it like that,” He interrupted with wild urgency before composing himself, “It’s nice to meet you and yeah that’d be great. Thanks.” Jason offered you a grin and your furrowed brows settled.

“Okay, well here’s my number. See ya around Jason!” You beamed at him like you hadn’t been accusing him moments ago, slipping out the door and off the whatever class you had next. He glanced down at the ripped piece of paper with your number. Who gives out their number like this anymore? He thought to himself, shoving the piece of paper into his pocket and ignoring how much he liked the way you said his name.

~

It was a steady friendship after that, you liked having someone outside your usual circle, someone to help with class and Jason liked you. He knew after a few weeks of consistently hanging out, usually in the library or empty lecture halls, but sometimes in your dorms. Sitting side by side in your bed or sprawled out on the floor in Jason’s single room were moments seared into his brain. Private and quiet in those small spaces, especially in your shared bedroom, that demanded close proximity. Maybe he should have put the pieces together then, fully coming to terms with his onslaught of feelings for you, but it took a boring day in the library for Jason to fully clue in.

You were sharing a booth and Jason was letting you copy his notes from the lecture you missed last week. You were close, typing with silent intent while Jason took in your side profile. The soft curve of your cheek, your lashes sweeping each time you glanced between screens and lips plump and wet from your tongue running over them out of habit. Jason knew he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

When that crossed Jason’s mind, something tight bit into his chest as he realized no one admired their friends like that. He had always thought you were cute, and a nice presence to be around, but that warm feeling you fostered in his chest felt different—heavier when you looked up at him.

“Done!” You chimed, breaking Jason from his realization with your sweet voice. “Thanks again. I might need help studying this chapter when the final comes up but I should be good for now.” You closed your laptop, shuffling your books into your bag and letting Jason know your time together was coming to an end. He felt selfish for wanting more time with you, but you had already told him when you flopped down that you wouldn’t be able to stay long. Jason had tried not to appear annoyed then, but couldn’t care less now as he closed his laptop with a bit too much force. It garnered your attention as you glanced over at him with concern, “All good?”

Okay maybe he did care.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” Jason nodded absentmindedly and hated how nervous you made him. How could he not see it before, the way words seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth and coherent thoughts flew out the window each time you two studied together. How it got worse when you were close, leaning into him or slapping his arm when he was criticizing one of your papers.

“Oookay,” You said it like you didn’t believe him before turning to face him fully, “One of my friend’s boyfriend or something works at a bar so my friends and I are going there tonight if you wanna join. I know its not really our thing, but we didn’t get to hang out today so.”

Our thing. Jason liked how that sounded, the implication of it. Like time spent together and even Jason himself was your own private little thing, it was special and not to be shared. It was a dangerous way to think of your friendship—of love—but Jason burned hotter at the thought regardless. And with you being scorned by your lack of time together as well, it all made something wicked pour into Jason’s chest as he a grin lit up his face. The guilt of having to cancel on Roy vanished immediately as he nodded.

“Yeah, just text me the details.”

You smiled wide, arms thrown around his shoulders as you hugged Jason for the first time before leaving him breathless amongst the shelves of books.

~

Jason almost pussied out, a block away from the bar and filled with dread. He questioned why he had agreed when this was the first time you two would be together outside the pretense of school work, on top of coming to terms with his feelings for you. And while studying together never meant solely talking about school, you two chatted about growing up in Gotham and dealing with being away from home. You both loved food and had a habit of showing each other what dishes you made the night before. You were also fond of baking when you visited friends' apartments, and would him banana bread or lemon squares on top of a coffee some days. You had asked his drink order the first time you two had hung out, and would always text him when you were running late if he wanted anything.

He would always say no and you would get him a drink anyways. “It’s my late tax.” You shrugged once, leaving him a bit speechless at how nonchalant your ability to care was.

Relishing in those moments made Jason breathe a bit easier, stuffing his hands into his leather jacket’s pockets and continuing down the street lamp lit road. He could hear muffled chatter and music playing as he neared, and despite wanting to sneak in without detection, you were outside sharing a cigarette with a friend and laughing amongst yourselves. You spotted Jason over your friend’s shoulder, immediately abandoning your conversation in favour of greeting him. Pride boasted in his chest, but it was quickly overcame by affection as you half ran, half drunk waddled over, arms wrapping around his waist before he could even breathe out a hello.

“I’m so happy you showed up.” You muttered into his jacket, pulling away just as Jason went to wrap his arms around you. You blinked up at him in the dopey sort of way, and it made him smile.

“You been here a while?” He asked, your brows pulling together.

“Are you saying I appear intoxicated Jason?” You teased, his name always sounding so right when you said it, especially now. Low and teasing, heavy with whatever you had drank.

“Depends, you always use big words when you’re drunk?” He jutted his chin at you, calmness flowing into his chest. Jason felt stupid for being worried, when he wasn’t so caught up in how you made him feel, you brought an ease out of him. A playfulness that sometimes left him tripped up and face hot, but you never seemed to notice.

“Pfft, you haven’t even heard the big words I know Mr. Literature Major.” He rolled his eyes, as you poked his chest. Your name was called before he could think of a response, both of you turning your attention towards the bar.

“Oh you can finish it, it's fine.” You waved your hand at your friend holding your smoke, more focused on Jason as you slipped beside him. You linked arms, leaning your weight into him as you headed towards the entrance. “Everyone’s inside, sorry if I reek of smoke.”

“I don’t mind.” He murmured, looking down at you and wondering how easy it would be to press a kiss to the top of your head. To lean over and—

“Oh by the way—“ Your voice pulled Jason from his thoughts, and he realized he was being introduced to the friend you were smoking with. He’d be hard pressed to remember her name, but she seemed nice enough. Jason had to force himself to be present as your arm slipped from his, and a chorus of voices greeted the two of you. You introduced everyone first, he was normally good with names and faces, in seas of people or gatherings like this, but Jason felt otherworldly. The only presence he felt grounded to was you, sitting next to him with one of your legs crossed over the other, calf brushing his shin as you told everyone how you two met.

“Wait—don’t you play for the basketball team?” One of your guy friends suddenly asked, and for some reason Jason immediately looked to you, to find you staring right back at him with a confused expression.

“Oh yeah, I’m starting this season—“

You slapped his arm with a shocked chuckled, “You have never told me that! What the hell!” You yelled, not louder than the chatter filling the bar as no one even looked your way. Everyone laughed as he shrugged, running his fingers through his wavy locks while you eyed him.

“Yeah I remember seeing a post with you, I think I remembered your hair.” Your friend continued, making you laugh softly. The stark white strands at the front that fell into his eyes sat against the raven black of the rest of Jason’s hair. You had asked him once if he dyed it like that, and Jason only shook his head no, continuing with the chapter like no follow up would be needed. It was perhaps why your hand found his, the one resting on his thigh underneath the table.

Your fingers curled around his hand and you let the conversation drift onto Jason’s basketball career. You listened intently, your chair right next to his as he talked about playing in the public courts as a kid, and was on a real team for the first time in highschool. He didn’t think he’d go to school for a basketball scholarship, but it seemed like the right time when he was offered. And while it was mostly true, Jason skipped over some of the more gruesome details of his life you had gotten pieces of, you knew he lived on the streets before he was adopted, but Jason never spoke of his adoptive father. You didn’t even have a name for the man who had given him a chance at life, but you were never one to push. You knew when to ask and when not too, you seemed to understand that Jason’s temperament existed on a razor sharp line, and walked it effortlessly.

“I feel kinda dumb because who is friends with someone this goddamn tall and doesn’t ask if they play basketball or volleyball even.” You snorted at one point, making Jason laugh. You let your hand fall from his then, pushing yourself up to get another drink. A few friends requested shots and you asked Jason if he wanted anything, but he shook his head no. He almost offered to go with you, but you were gone before he had the chance. He was left alone to be interrogated more about his life, which he didn’t mind, he was used to it.

It came with being a collegiate level athlete and one of the sons of Gotham’s favourite billionaire, even if most people his age didn’t know that. But it was always the same shit, especially college guys who loved to live some NBA fantasy through Jason though that wasn’t what he was striving for. Jason wanted his degree and if playing basketball helped him focus and work out everything he kept inside, then so be it. Jason never mentioned it to you because he had never seen himself as an athlete who has to go to school, but instead as a student with the perk of playing a sport he enjoyed. He felt a bit wrong for not sharing that side of his life with you, for wanting you to know him and what he loved as much as he wanted to know that about you.

It would be something to dwell on later as you returned with your friends' drinks, and on your second trip you brought a drink for yourself and another beer for Jason. You only sent him a smile as you set it down, falling back into the conversation as the night rolled on. Jason did his best to stay attentive, but you all were a little drunk and tripping over words by a certain point. Jason felt warm and content next to you, unsure how many drinks you two had ended up getting for another, but appreciating how you felt beside him regardless.

“I’m gonna go smoke and then wander my ass home.” You declared, leaving a few bills on the table which Jason immediately scooped back up.

“I got ours.” He said, pushing himself up a little too fast that his chair tipped backwards. You giggled a little unceremoniously at the sight before his words hit your ears. You began to object, but Jason had already slunk to the bar while your friends picked his chair, and closed out whatever tab you had. He was sure he ended up paying for a few of your friends' drinks too, but didn’t have the capacity to care. You were outside by the time he was back, bidding goodbye to your friends before joining you in the chilly air. “Are you actually walking home?” Jason asked, stealing your cigarette from between your fingers while you pouted.

“No, I ordered an uber. It's not coming for like ten minutes but I wanted air.” You said, voice sleepy with words falling into another.

“I’ll wait with you.”

“You can uber with me, if you want.” You offered and Jason considered it. It would mean more time alone with you, but he wasn’t sure he could keep it up anymore. With alcohol heavy in his bones and nicotine burning his throat, Jason didn’t know if he could keep it hidden anymore. Keep his feelings at bay when all his inhibitions were down and telling him not to. It was too dangerous, too risky so he shook his head no reluctantly.

“I could use the air too.” You nodded as he passed back your smoke, the hum from the bar and citylife filled the air before you looked down at your phone.

You stared unmoved for a moment, then your eyes met Jason’s. Green and heavy with want, he knew it was obvious. And either you were oblivious or didn’t care as you looked at him unfazed. Drunk and tired, but nothing heavy lurked in your gaze. It made his mouth go sour, but your voice broke any annoyance from flowering.

“Hey, when’s your next game?” You asked, swaying on your feet every so faintly.

“Uh, next Friday I think. Why?” Jason sounded a bit harsher than he meant, but you only laughed.

“Is it cool if I come watch?”

“Yeah it’s not like I can’t stop you,” You frowned at that and Jason was ready to blame the alcohol, “Sorry, I meant I'd like it if you came. My friend Roy, you met him last time he was visiting, is here again and gonna go on Friday if you wanna go with him.”

“Yeah! That’d be great!” You closed the space between you two and pulled Jason into a hug. Your arms wound around his shoulders this time, pulling him down to your level as you stood on your tippy toes. He wasted no time wrapping his strong arms around you, hands splayed on your back as his nose brushed the juncture where your shoulder and neck met. You smelled as good as you always did, a bit like liquor and sweat too, but still that summery scented warmth. It was oceanic and sweet, like that earthy natural sweetness. The kind from berries and sap, that stick to your tongue and remind you of hot endless days.

And maybe Jason was drunk and reading too much romantic poetry recently for one of his courses, or maybe he just wanted to let himself go, to feel whatever you made him feel tenfold with no hesitation. Jason let his head tilt forward, lips brushing the side of your neck before he placed a soft, open mouth kiss next to where your perfume was the strongest. Where it enveloped his senses and made him forget the reality of his life and your friendship. His tongue darted out to brush where his lips had met your skin when your fingers clutched his shoulders and pushed your bodies apart.

You stared at him a little wide eyed, his long arms still able to breach the distance and distantly holding onto your waist before the car pulling up next to you snapped Jason to reality as his grasp fell from you. Regret filled Jason instantly, words unable to form as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. You followed the action with your eyes, arms hugged around your chest as you took another step back.

“I’ll see you in class next week okay?” You said, expression softening as Jason forced a smile and nod like he hadn’t just ruined everything you two had built. You waved before ducking into the car, and vanishing into the night. Jason started walking home immediately, eyes focused on the pavement and how his steps fell on after another until he was home. He didn’t even change before rolling into bed, tossing off his hoodie and kicking off his boots before letting the promise of sleep and forgetting overtake him.

Jason thought he would wake up in a better mood, a less angry one.

He was wrong.

~

though I probably deserve this noose, there's one thing I'd like to adduce…just know I never resented you.

Jason knew he was being childish, probably handling it in the worst way, but he decided to take a cue from your reaction to his kiss, and was avoiding you. The few times you crossed paths on campus, he would send you a quick wave or fake smile before veering off in whatever direction was furthest from you. You managed to trap him in one conversation, asking if you still were on to study after class. “Uh sure, works for me.” Jason fidgeted with his zipper before bidding you goodbye and spinning out of the building he needed to be in.

He was also texting you less, keeping his phone in his bag most of the day and replying half heartedly. He was sure you knew something was up—how could you not expect Jason to be awkward all things considered?

And if you were still clueless to his avoidance, Jason made it clear when he walked past the desk you two normally shared during lecture. You had looked up as he headed down the stairs dividing the lecture hall into three. Yet Jason kept his head forward, opting to sit on the left side of the theater and closer to the front. He could feel your gaze following him, and Jason only worked up the courage once to steal a glance in your direction to see you typing furiously.

His head snapped back to the front as he pretended to listen. Jason did try to pay attention, but guilt was slowly eating him whole. He was so grateful when the lecture finally ended, taking his time to pack up and relieved to see you had already left by the time Jason started heading to the exit. Or so he thought until you stood across from the doors, arms crossed over your chest, clearly unimpressed.

“We still on to study?” You asked, clipped. Jason was sure this was the first time he had actually seen you mad, and hated he was the cause of it.

“I have a last minute practice tonight.” He said and you scoffed. Basketball had never once gotten in the way of your friendship to the point you didn’t even know he was on the team.

“Sure, okay. Well have fun and see ya around Jason.” You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you brushed past him. His eyes fell closed, head tipping forward as he let out a hefty sigh. Broad chest expanding and falling as he blew out hot air.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running a hand over his face and heading to the gym until night had rolled in. He would’ve stayed longer, doing a few laps in the pool perhaps, until Jason remembered Roy was still in his dorm.

Jason knew he wasn’t only being a shitty friend to you, but he had abandoned Roy twice now during his visit. It was too much guilt for Jason to hold and he didn’t have the space for it as he headed back to his friend, praying Roy wasn’t too mad. And he wasn’t, instead sleeping with his head by the foot of Jason’s bed and limbs hanging off all sides.

It made Jason laugh, a lightness filling him for the first time today. His game was tomorrow and Roy would be there and maybe it would be enough.

~

You weren’t going to show, Jason was sure of it. Well, there was the outlier possibility you might, but no, logically you were pissed and not going to show up. Unless maybe to boo him. That made Jason chuckle, pulling off his headphones as he half listened to his coach and captains’ last minute pep talk. It wasn’t the most important game, losing wouldn’t drop the teams standing much, but winning would look good as hell.

That appealed enough to Jason who was rolling out his ankles before pushing to his feet, the black of his jersey contrasted the white long sleeve he had underneath. His hair had gotten long enough to sweep back into a small ponytail, the short strands falling forward and framing his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors as everyone headed out of the lockeroom. Jason looked happy, it seemed like a foreign expression on his face, especially as of late. But the prospect of losing himself in a game always appealed to Jason and would soon became reality.

It was his needed escape, from all the chaos he had caused, but his peace came to halt when Jason searched for Roy in the sea of people and found you next to him. Roy had a conniving grin, so maybe he was a little mad at being abandoned and hearing Jason mope about you for the last few days.

One of Jason’s teammates slammed into his back as his sneakers squeaked to a stop.

“You good man?” He asked, placing a hand on Jason’s arm as he jogged past him. Jason nodded, following behind him and trying to focus on anything, but you. Of course you showed up, and didn’t even look mad, but excited.

Jason stared at the lines painted onto the ground, trying to push away the sudden anxiety looming in his stomach. He wanted to play well for you, he knew that much, but it was hard to think about anything else. Process the flow of the game while he knew you were watching. It wasn’t your fault, but Jason just couldn’t engage with you, not right now. He ignored both you and Roy the entire first half, not once sparing a glance in your direction, and opting to duck into the locker room when half time rolled through.

He normally would come chat, he knew Roy expected that much, but Jason just needed to play. To focus on rebounds and blocking and winning. It was simple, and with each second played he felt a bit easier. Like braving you once the break ended would be more bearable. But as Jason headed back onto the court, he was met with an empty seat. Roy was still there, looking rather unamused, but trying to push it down for Jason’s sake, while Jason stared helplessly.

You left, and he should have saw it coming, but it still hurt like hell. Jason played the second half well, mostly angry at himself for being an ass, and doing nothing to stop himself. Watching repeatedly from the outside as he fumbled every meaningful relationship if given the time. It made Jason sick, angry enough to be fouled out during the last few minutes, but his team won nonetheless.

The initial celebration seemed to pass in a haze, his teammates' voices flying over Jason’s head as he pushed his way through the crowd, wandering to where Roy sat with his arms crossed over his chest. “You played like a jackass near the end.” The redhead stated when Jason was in earshot.

“Playing how I feel I guess.” Jason shrugged, gaze flickering to the empty seat near to him.

Roy sighed, pushing himself up and slapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “At least you can admit. Now go be nice and shake hands and I’ll meet you at the afters, see if I can get your little crush to show up too.” Roy stated, making Jason chuckle as he nodded.

“Alright, and thanks man.”

“Anytime,” Roy grinned, letting Jason go before shouting, “Oh hey!”

He turned around as Roy held up his phone, “They asked for a play by play when they left, just so you know.” He said, a wide smile cracking over Jason’s face. You still cared, at least somewhat how he did, and maybe would show up (again) after all.

~

just know I never resented you, and I understand if you can't stand the sound or sight of my name.

Jason was in a sea of people, the usual spot for post game drinks overflowed, everyone in the celebrating mood it seemed. Jason tried to play along, and get lost in the fun, but was anxiously waiting for you and Roy. His gaze kept flitting to the door, half listening to conversations and participating even less. Jason ignored comments about how he played the last few minutes, sending tight smiles to the people who thought they had the right to joke about that stuff with him. They usually got the message after that, leaving him be until someone else decided to pull him into a conversation. The cycle was starting again as one of Jason’s captains called his name, but Roy’s hat flashed in Jason’s periphery and he didn’t even acknowledge the senior before turning towards the door.

“Outside.” Was all Roy said with a wink, patting Jason on the shoulder and slipping past him into the celebrations.

Jason wormed his way through the crowd, yanking open the front door and nearly colliding with you. You stepped back as Jason froze in the doorway.

“Uh Jay, I think people are tryna get by.” You said, nodding behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the couple, and moved out of the way wordlessly as they dipped into the night. You slouched against the brick wall of the bar, and Jason headed towards you like a man compelled. He leaned into the wall, looking down at you as you sent him a smile. You were close, carrying the scent of smoke and that fucking perfume.

“Heard you fouled out.” You commented, making Jason chuckle.

“Yeah, a little too pissed to play nice.” He shrugged, toying with a string on his belt and pushing further into the wall, hoping the bricks would devour him.

“Is that how you normally play?”

“No, not unless I’m in my head.” You tensed at his reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Y’know we don’t have to talk about anything tonight, you should be celebrating anyway. We can play nice? For tonight?” You said after a moment, looking away from him while Jason continued to stare down at you.

“What?” He breathed.

“I just don’t think we need to focus on like, a drunk mistake right now. You guys won, let's just focus on that.” You shrugged, still looking towards the pavement while Jason’s jaw clenched.

Drunk mistake? Sure that was a way to describe it, but it was more than that. It was a revelation to the feelings Jason had been harboring, those same feelings he handled so poorly this last week and you wanted to forget it? Put it aside like you didn’t set Jason on fire from the inside out and were the one standing there with a fire extinguisher all at once. It wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore, not even for a few hours. It was why he had all, but abandoned you this week, more so than the embarrassment. And you chalked it up to a drunk mistake?

No.

He was silent for a while, long enough to beckon your gaze back to his as you turned to face him slightly. It appeared you weren’t getting out of this conversation tonight and neither was Jason.

Jason huffed, palms digging into his eyes before he said, “It wasn’t—that wasn’t me being drunk, okay—yeah I was, but it wasn’t a mistake in the way you’re thinking. I-I did that because I…like you. A lot, and have for a while.”

This silence seemed to stretch on longer than the one before—

“Oh.”

Jason laughed, he couldn’t help it, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he barked, “Well that’s always a great response.”

The coldness of his response snapped you out of whatever shock his confession put you in, “No, no I'm just surprised, sorry. And it’s not like I don’t like you too, but—“

“Oh that’s an even better one.” Jason muttered, and went to head back inside until your fingers shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stayed in place, but couldn’t turn to face you.

“Hey, stop being an ass, I asked you to play nice so listen. Jason, I do like you, I think you’re great actually, but this is a bit of a shock to me, and we still need to talk about how you treated me this last week. I need time to process all of this because I don’t wanna damage our relationship even more right now. But I still care about you a lot so just. Bear with me?” You said, breathless afterwards and thumb stroking against his wrist as Jason finally turned to face you.

“I can…work with that.” He said softly.

“Well I’m glad,” You shifted closer, squeezing his wrist before adding, “And hey maybe if you get a little too drunk tonight and make another mistake…it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

Jason immediately tipped himself into you, making you scream out a laugh while trying to push him off.

“Y’know now that you mention it, I'm feeling pretty drunk now.” He pretended to trip over his feet while your palms pressed into his chest.

“God you’re so annoying.” You grinned when Jason stopped, holding up his own weight while you slapped the back of your hand into his stomach. “Now let’s go get messed up, Roy’s driving so!”

“Oh say no more.” You slipped your hand into his, fingers interlocking as you led Jason back into the bar. You glanced back when his fingers tightened around yours. grinning brightly at him in the hazy lighting, a beacon of good and calmness Jason longed for. And while there was still uncertainty and time before Jason could truly relish in you, he would bear with you as you asked.

—

title/lyrics comes from drawstring by pity sex.

pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala

[hotluncheddie]

omg it's been said before but your autistic Steve series is so good so life affirming so precious to me..... and so I would like to share my own thoughts on the matter...... Steve who did sports bc he had so much excess energy!! and now he gets the zoomies all the time and needs NEEDS to get outside and run around when the weather is nice...... Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask and Robin who says she likes him better without it!!!!.... Steve hyperfixations (feat Steve who reads and frequents the library my beloved, he's so casually curious it just makes sense with his characterization I think)...... Steve full body stimming with Eddie or Robin and feeling amazing!!!!!...... Steve who has set up his space Exactly The Way He Likes It.....

love and light to you ♥️💋🥞🏄🏻

lovely 2jug2head!!! hello!!! ur so sweet!!!

but autistic steve!!! my love!! my guy!!! yesssss!!!! these are all so good! so sweet and lovely and perfect!!! ty for sending me this!!!

(sorry this reply took a little to get too, i've been on my freak shit but finally got few ideas down for u <3)

i think steve would take time learning what stimming and being overstimulated and understimulated means. i think after the upside-down especially, but a lot before that too, he got too used to detaching, kind of separating from his body in order to survive. so now, sometimes, he gets these itches and urges and weird feelings and he just doesn’t know what to do about it. [and i think sport definitely helped him in the past, but i dunno if he would make that connection right away.]

but, he watches robin flap her arms with her sweater sleeves covering her hands. and watches eddie get fucking breathless head banging to a song. he sees robin skip to his car at the end of a shift, looking up at the sky and letting out a 'AHH!' with so so much feeling, cheeks flushed and eyes bright that the day is done, getting in and fiddling with the radio like it’s no big deal. he watches eddie jiggle his leg and bite his rings and stand up and pace when he's talking about something he loves. and steve tries them.

he tries all of them.

he fists his hands and shakes them until something dislodges in his chest, till he can finally take a full breath. he sings loudly along to bruce springsteen and wham in his car in the mornings, sometimes not ever really singing, just making noise. he jumps around his room with robin when she plays blondie, he asks eddie to show him how to head bang, tries it and laughs and kisses him breathless when the song ends. he gives robin his keys and takes off running in a lap around the building after work, sometimes near sprinting, sometimes circling five, six times, going till he's panting and the faces of all the people he had to see that day are washed away, until he can't feel the plastic on his fingers, can't smell the bleach or the too much cologne some guy used. until he's reset, until he's him again, not theirs, not who anyone wants him to be. until he feels good again, lets himself feel good.

sometimes, now, he jiggles his leg the same way eddie does, at the same time, until robin says she has to move 'feel fuckin' seasick over here with you two goblins.' and eddie just laughs. and steve can curl up into his side, if he wants, can pick up eddies hand and bite his rings if he feels like it, eddie would let him, maybe call him cute, wouldn't judge him. neither of them would, if he did that, if he did more. they would never, and its so nice.

<3

["Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask" ;-; that's my fcuking GUY. he would and its so :(( !!!! ]

but yeah, robin would hate that fake plastic smile he puts on to mask sometimes. and she'd tell him, with so much love. 'stop it. show me you.' because she just wants to be with steve.

but she’s so wonderful, he just, she gets it. sometimes things that he didn’t even know were bothering him will build and he’ll snap and rant and moan to finally get it all out. lungs heaving as he empties everything out before her. but she’ll just look at it, and seem to place it all in a way that makes sense, a way that’s small and fits in his pocket. she’ll say ‘woah yeah, that seems like a lot / would be stressful / i’m not surprised you're overwhelmed’ and it’s just. it’s so simple. he’s seen, he’s listened too and validated. it still makes him pause, in stunned silence, and it’s like there’s a plaster placed on his heart with every instance that it happens. sometimes it seems to strike such a chord it's like it's hitting a deep wound that he buried inside, a scab finally healing and falling away. sometimes it makes him sob in her arms, overwhelmed and amazed and so so moved by this person he's met, this wonderful angelic creature that he gets to call his.

the next time he has his super masked, customer service face on when its just the two of them, she threatens to bite him. and steve smiles for real, laughs, feels another plaster sticking over the others.

<3

and steve library frequenter yes yes!! i agree that he is curious and practical and i think a hands on kind of guy! so i think he goes to the library and gets books about cars. i think he likes learning about how to fix his, trying to understand what could go wrong, how it happens, what you do in different scenarios. i think that's something him and eddie and wayne bond over, helping to fix their cars. steve and eddie even work together to do up wayne's van a little, getting it a new bumper and a couple parts scavenged at the junkyard. it's fun for him to work out what's missing, what’s changed, how and why and then putting it into practice. taking something apart and putting it back together. makes him feel proud of himself, something he really doesn't feel often. makes his brain zone in and flow and focus for a couple hours and it just feels so nice, its a happy time for him.

also, speaking of special interests - ✨sport stats✨. steve can name the players of all the basketball teams currently playing professionally, likes watching the tactics shows that come on before and after the games. likes talking at eddie and explaining why its actually really cool that they swapped out that player to give this new guy a chance, he's big news, a young up and comer and has a really interesting play style, its gonna work well with how their current manger organises the court. and eddie just smiles at him, squeezing steves hand in his lap and trying to understand what he sees on screen, follow along (he struggles to take in all the information, it's just not his thing. but it makes him so happy when he watches steve watch.) and steves happy little keens when something interesting happens, mindlessly fiddling with eddie’s fingers and tapping his other hands fingers against his knee, 1, 2, 3, 2, 4, 2. relaxed and focused and sometimes he rocks when it gets really tense and eddies heart bursts.

because it wasn't always like that, it was a struggle and a near pleading for eddie to just get steve to tell him what he likes, talk to him, get to know him. to just let eddie in. because eddie wanted to know everything and steve just didn't know how to deal with that. why would eddie care? no one ever listens to him. he's embarrassing and annoying and gets to loud and eddie doesn't like sports so why would steve tell him anything? it took soft words and gentle encouragement and reassurance again and again that he's listening, he wants to listen, wants to know. 'always, always wanna listen to what you have to say stevie.' so when steve comes over to the trailer after work, talking about the latest switch they announced in the paper, how last nights points shifted the league around and now he doesn't even know who's going to win, isn't that cool? eddie fucking beams because this is his boy. his bright, beautiful, exited baby and he’s talking to eddie, he's letting eddie see him.

<3

steve and his space though. thinking very much about that. he doesn’t have the strictest schedule, he’s learning that sometimes its okay to leave the sheets for another couple days, that the dust can settle for another week before he needs to wipe it away. but some things are just, they just have to be right. he needs to know where things are, needs the important stuff in the same place every day so he doesn't forget. needs his products in the bathroom out and in order so he can keep track of when something needs replacing, so he's not left without something he needs. wants this one specific pillow at night, and one for between his knees and a duvet on year round, needs it to feel warm and safe and right in his bed.

and his clothes, its not even about the sensory stuff for him, like yeah most of his tops are soft, his jeans pretty worn in. he has some really old sweatshirts that are special, that come out on the worst days. but it's also about how clothes look, how they make him feel. he want his jeans to fit right, sit right on his shoes. wants his shirts to make his shoulders look nice, make him feel comfortable and confident and like a normal fucking person who can exist in the world. its another part of the mask, maybe. but it works and its his and most of the time he thinks he looks good. and that's okay. he's learning and its healthy and its practical and it helps.

but he also adores wearing eddies t-shirts. when he's at home all day or to sleep at night. especially if eddies not there, when steve misses him, when he wants him. steve wears eddies t-shirts to bed. they're all ones eddies left after staying, they're old and soft and the tags have been cut out and they smell like eddie. like his eddie. like he's there. steve loves it, wraps himself up in it, helps him feel soothed and taken care of even if he's alone, maybe its a little sad, makes him feel embarrassed, too much. but he's learning not to care.

sometimes eddie talks to him and touches him in a certain special way that makes steve feel so so foggy and taken care of and amazing. so, if eddie's not there but he craves that foggy feeling, steve wears eddies t-shirts and he speaks to himself like eddie would and he makes himself dinner and looks after himself and tucks himself into bed and rubs the fabric of the collar against his nose. and tries not to feel embarrassed if he needs more, if he has to suck on his fingers/thumb for a while, clutching the fabric in his hand. tries to let himself whimper or even cry a little if he needs, at how nice it feels, how gooey and needy he can allow himself to get. accept it as part of himself, that eddie likes it, still likes him, still loves him. just something he needs sometimes. and steve falls asleep, wearing eddies t-shirt.

<3

gonna tag a few people who might want to see, hope that's okay? wanna spread him around and show him off!! look at him!!! our best guy!!!

@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @cherrychapsticksteve @lil-gremlin-things @finntheehumaneater @irethsune

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[herecirmsims]

Questions For Storytellers

I have (I think) finally caught up on my list of poses to make, so I wanted to do something a little fun (for me, not for anyone else LMAO) and entirely self-indulgent. I read stories and tell my own over on Instagram, but of course it's harder to post long-form text like this over there.

Special thanks to @freezerbnuuy as I'm copying their post. ❤️

What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

This is from the middle of my last post, but it's the last screenshot I took because I went back and added this scene in after finally caving and making my own stupid poses for it hahah.

2. Describe your story in three words or less: Needlessly long tbh

3. Describe (insert character here) in three words or less: Uhhh I'll pick Saxen since he's my MC... wet cat energy (which I think is something @nefaricussims said actually??). Or "90s cocaine chic" as @southernsimmin so beautifully described him. 🤣

4. How did you choose the name of your story? It's called The Cottage because it's... based in and around a cottage. 🥲 I have a very imaginative mind!! 🤣 But also, the cottage plays an important role throughout the whole story and especially in the upcoming finale.

5. How do you choose your characters’ names? My Sim story is based on a novel I never had the confidence to finish - in that version, Sax is an ælf based on Anglo-Saxon belief. I made him a vampire in Sims because that was the only pack I owned at the time, besides base game, and for gameplay purposes I thought vamp put him close to how I imagined him. I now realise I could have easily used CC and my own damn imagination to make him an ælf but I didn't know much about CC at the time, either. 🤣 Because of this, the original story leant into fae lore and the stuff about never revealing your true name. Saxen isn't his real name anyway, but for an added layer it also isn't spelt how you might imagine if you heard it spoken. The same for Thom and Jac who are also characters who came over from the 'original'.

6. How long have you been working on your story for? A little over three years! I have learned soooo much in that time.

7. Whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? Did it pay off? I dunno that I've taken any risks, other than putting it out there in the first place.

8. What about your story are you proud of? I think the fact it exists at all. I've been writing stories since I was a kid, but at some point I lost confidence in myself and have never finished anything/wanted to share it with people because I end up overthinking and deleting it. So I am proud of myself for having maintained a continuous story for three years, and for having other people read it. I think because there was no pressure with a Sims story - with a novel I kept thinking, this has to be perfect and polished so that I can publish it someday. With a Sims story, I'm free to just write the silly tropes I enjoy and allow myself to suck and learn and get better at it.

9. What about your story are you looking to improve on? I read a fantastic article about ma - including pauses in your visual storytelling, space for the characters to sit and breath and reflect. It's ma that makes Ghibli movies so wonderfully distinctive. Being able to make my own poses means that I can show a character's expression or body language in response to a situation, without the need for overlaying text. I'm trying really hard to move away from the "talking heads" style that reads more like a script, and letting the visuals tell the story for me instead. I'm not very good at it because I enjoy my blah blah, but it's fun to try!!

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? Is there a definitive end? I'm approaching the end of it now, which has been planned for the last three years, so yes - I know pretty much everything that's going to happen. Sometimes the characters still throw a little surprise for me though.

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it? When I got the Sims almost 4 years ago, I had absolutely no idea that there was a) a whole community around it or b) that people used it for storytelling. I'd already made Sax, Thom, and Jac in the game, because I'd wanted to see them come to life during gameplay. Then I discovered poses and started sharing random staged screenshots on Instagram, and became friends with the exceptionally talented TheSimmerKay (now making machinimas!) who showed interest in my silly little characters and suggested that I try telling a story too. I owe her a lot!! As for messages and meaning... I'm very interested in what makes people do the things they do, and how the hero of a story often depends on whose POV we're hearing the story from. There's a fine line between hero and villain sometimes, and a hero acting out of love can cross from protectiveness into control.

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium? Yep - I have a designated story save, which is the one I take all my screenshots in and which never has gameplay. Then I have a Happy Ever After save for Sax and Fen and another save for for my Globetrotter Challenge Sim, both of which are gameplay only. I think it's important to have that outlet; I can work on my story, make poses, or just play the game, depending on what I fancy.

13. From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you? 2-3 evenings. I tend to get everything laid out and text added, then let it sit for a day because I inevitably think of a way to do something better if I give it chance to breath. 🤣

14. Do you have any regrets about your story so far? If you could go back in time, how would you fix these? Not regrets, really, but there are some threads that I put in - fully intending to complete them later in the story - but never did, due to them just not fitting with the story or wanting to try and bring things to an end sooner. But similarly, there are times when I was going to put in a little hint or foreshadowing in and didn't, and then later in my story have wished I had! The tricky part of serialised storytelling is you have to just live with what you have (or don't have), you can't go back and remove or add scenes like you would with a drafted novel.

15. What have been the highlights of creating your story? I've met so many incredible people due to it, oh my goodness. Truly extraordinary Simmers who've shared their time and knowledge with me. We have a little mutual reading group on Insta where we all read and geek out over each other's stories and it's just wonderful. I was honestly shocked when i went to other platforms and realised how much drama there can be in the Sims community. 🤣

16. What about the process do you enjoy? Not that I don't enjoy the process... but I mostly love it when it's finished and I can share it, hahaha.

17. What about the process do you hate? I don't hate any of it... it's a hobby and I do it because I enjoy it. That being said, it does fuck me off when I have multiple Sims in a scene, everyone is in place and has poses queued, and then MCCC Dresser FREEZES MY GAME NOOOOOOOO WHY

18. Choose a song that reminds you of your story:

This is the unofficial theme... specifically this version in Old English, which is Saxen's first language. "It's our destiny then to find love again / Where we failed once before now we'll win"

19. Choose a song that reminds you of (insert character here):

Another one for Sax I guess because he's special. 😌🤣 "But you, a cinder of the fire that's yet to come / Will you just sit and mourn this fragile thing that you've become / Or instead will you consume the very things you can't outrun / Until you finally see all of the strength that you draw from?"

20. Choose your favourite shot from your story so far: Hmmm I think this one, which was me being lazy and reusing a screenshot from an older scene during a flashback-style narration. 🤣 I was trying to achieve something else with the editing but did this by accident and liked it.

21. Choose your least favourite shot so far: Too many to pick from LMAO

22. Choose a favourite character from your story so far: Sax, obviously, he's my lil chew toy/punching bag. But then there's also Idris, for whom I only wish the best. She's going through some trouble right now and I don't enjoy it. It's much more fun to bully Sax.

23. Choose your least favourite character so far: I don't have one! Although Vlad makes me deeply uncomfortable tbh. I find him to be a really creepy villain, and unlike any of my other villains, he's not in any way misrepresented or redeemable. I'm using a makeover version of him by WistfulCastle (I would link, but I don't think he's available anymore?)!

24. Are there any characters who remind you of yourself? No... well. Whenever baby El randomly info-dumps on a niche subject, that's mostly me taking advantage of a captive audience to tell them about karkadanns or medieval torture items or dead bodies on Everest. 🥲

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story? I honestly don't know - I can't name anything that I've consciously drawn on, though I know for sure I must have. Funnily enough people have told me things like "oh that's like in Vampire Diaries" or "that's like that part in the Harry Potter films" and I haven't watched either of those, so I think what's happening is we're all drawing from the same well of folklore and mythology and trope. There is occasional story drama about being copied and the thing is... unpopular opinion alert... many of us aren't as unique as we think we are. 😅 What we are unique at is taking a trope and telling it in our own distinctive way. No one else can tell your story quite like you can.

26. Have other sim stories inspired you? I have soooo many talented friends who inspire me to do better when it comes to visuals and storytelling!! @callmedomino is the queen of silent storytelling and a huge inspiration on my journey to discover ma. I really love how well she can tell a story with no words.

27. What genres would you describe your story as? I call it rural fantasy lmao

28. If you could reproduce your story in another medium (movie, novel, comic, etc.) what would you choose and why? I mean obviously I'd say movie because HOW COOL would that be?! Especially an animated one!

29. What would your story’s rating be? (G, PG, M etc.) Ummm probably M because there is the occasional spicy scene. Sometimes three a year LMAO.

30. If you were leaving simblr Simsta and had to choose another creator to continue the story for you, who would you ask? Well tbh I've given Sax and Fen to several good friends already; some of them have them in ongoing cameos in their own stories. I wouldn't ask anyone to continue mine, but I like to think that Sax and Fen could live on in my friend's stories and games if anything were to ever happen to me.

31. Drop some random trivia about your story: When I started I only meant to do short, random vignettes about daily life at the cottage. Somehow it snowballed into a three year epic. 🤣

32. Give a light spoiler: "This is who I am. If I was any other way, I would not be myself."