#every time I like something I feel like someone has to just come tell me why they don’t like it and what’s wrong with it

[mangostarjam]

you've been touching him a lot since he got back.

itoshi sae doesn't do anything about it — doesn't dissuade you from tugging at his sleeve or sliding his jacket zipper back and forth while you talk. doesn't comment or bring your attention to it.

but he watches.

you've been around him a lot since his plane landed, making up for all the time he's spent abroad, as if your daily chat threads haven't been enough. most of the time it's just the two of you, the way it used to be. sometimes his brother is around, though thankfully it doesn't seem like you've gotten any closer to rin since sae left.

other times there's a group, mostly your friends, a mix of guys and girls who don't seem to know what to do with themselves around him. sae is used to this — fame brings strange things to light — but you treat him as you always have, except for the touching.

you don't touch anyone else.

it makes him think.

sae has his reasons. he's never let your relationship get past that line, drawn in the sand. he's a professional football player on the other side of the world, and you have a life here. you have friends (even though you still call him your best friend), you have a job (that you complain about all the time), you have family (that can't be bothered to ever congratulate you on anything).

it wouldn't be right — to make you leave. to take you away. not when he needs to focus on being the best in the world.

(he is the best in the world. all those years ago he showed the U-20 team in japan the difference between them, the way the most they could hope for was dating a gravure model. sae never cared about that aspect. he already had you.)

he lets you touch him, but he doesn't touch you back. he keeps you at arm's length — where you're safe.

and then you ask him to be your wingman.

someone else — touching you? kissing you? having you? unthinkable. sae steps out of the shower and barely dries off before pulling on his briefs and pants. steps into his room and there you are, sitting on his bed, looking good, if a little sad.

he considers telling you to get your passport updated and catches the way your eyes trail down his form. maybe this conversation would be easier if he's wearing a shirt — your gaze is too heated, too distracting. you probably think you're being sneaky, hiding your feelings as best as you can, but sae knows you.

and your casual touches are ocean waves washing that line in the sand away.

sae walks towards his closet when it happens again. your finger in his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks. "what?"

"you were ignoring me," you say. "i asked if my outfit is okay."

your outfit is more than okay. "i would have told you to change if it wasn't."

"if you're going to be my wingman, shouldn't you hype me up?" you huff.

sae feels his jaw clench at the reminder. "no," he says, and his tone comes out cold. you don't seem to notice, falling back on his bed and testing every bit of self control in his grasp. "this is a waste of time."

he goes to pull on a shirt before he does something drastic. you're saying something, but it hardly matters when his flight leaves if you'll be on the plane with him. you've covered your eyes with your forearm, so you miss the way he pauses at the foot of the bed, teal eyes drinking in your form splayed out so defenselessly.

sae climbs over you silently, knees nudging yours apart, hands planted on either side of your body. "this is a waste of time," he repeats, watching with amusement as you take in his position. a blush sweeps across your face, but you don't push him off. that's a good sign, at least.

"what, you think i'm not worth being a wingman for?" you ask. silly. you have no idea.

and then you reach for his belt loops again, as if that's a totally normal thing to do and not something that drives him a little nuts every time. sae prides himself on his control, though, so he doesn't lean down to kiss you just yet.

"tell me," sae says, "have you become this touchy with all your friends since i've been gone?"

"n-no?"

it's cute, how wide your eyes get. sae leans down a little closer. feels your breaths on his lips. still doesn't kiss you — yet. "then i won't be your wingman. you don't need one."

"why not?"

do you know how breathless you sound? sae considers his apartment in spain, how he'll need to make sure the bedroom doesn't share any walls with the neighbors. the way you sound is all for him and him alone.

"because you have a boyfriend, now."

(companion piece to this)

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[wannabanauthor]

What if Tommy and Eddie discussed the breakup, and it goes from serious to funny?

So Eddie goes to Tommy's house and is like "I'm here to check on you, let's get a beer."

Tommy tries to refuse, but Eddie says, "You broke my best friend's heart, so the least you could do is explain your reasoning to me."

Tommy reluctantly goes. After a few beers, he starts rambling.

"I fucked up, and I don't know how to fix it or even if I should fix it. I was falling in love with him, and it snuck up on me. I didn't expect for it to get more serious," Tommy says. "I thought it was just going to be fun for awhile, and we'd go our separate ways."

"Your second date with him was to his sister's wedding," Eddie points out.

"Oh so sue me! It's not my fault I caved. He gave me these pleading puppy eyes, and I found myself agreeing."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Well, if you never expected it to get serious and didn't want it to get serious, then why haven't you found your rebound yet? It's been weeks. Even Chimney and Maddie are telling Buck to start dating again."

Tommy groans into his hands and then rubs his temples. "Fucking traitors."

"Well, I know this hot priest-"

"Been there, done that," Tommy says and takes a swig of his beer.

Eddie looks at him with a bewildered look on his face. "What?"

"What?" Tommy responds with a shrug. "I was raised Catholic. Guilt about sexuality is easy to spot, but he made the first move."

"Do I even want to know how?"

"Ever had sex in a confession booth?"

Eddie's eyes are wide and horrified. "Please don't tell me-"

"It was an old booth in storage, but it was still pretty hot. Once I admitted to myself that I was gay, I had a lot of catching up to do."

Then Tommy goes quiet and gets sad again. "I'll never meet another Evan in my life. I think he's ruined me for other men."

"Don't say that. While, I prefer you two together, you can always find someone else."

Tommy snorts in disbelief. "Yeah, not gonna happen. At least when it comes to sex. His adorable face and cheery smile haunt my dreams, and his proficiency with dick makes it impossible for me to get it up even when watching porn."

"Oh no, I need more alcohol for this," Eddie says and orders some shots.

He and Tommy go through a couple of them.

Tommy's tongue gets looser. "His dick is fantastic. Perfect length, thickness, and stamina. I know my body pretty well, and let me tell you, the prostate orgasms from him were out of this world. I barely lasted five minutes before coming just from him fucking me."

Eddie is drunk enough that he's not even fazed.

"Not to mention he has this slight curve that makes him hit the spot every time, and goddamn, I miss that dick and the dork attached to it," Tommy continues. "He made me feel comfortable and safe and cherished. Being around him was effortless, mostly, and I miss him so much."

Tommy starts sniffling, and then tears roll down his cheeks. "Fuck, I don't want to cry."

Eddie puts a comforting hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Call him. He's a mess and miserable without you. He's been baking so much that the entire station's hemoglobin A1C levels are pre-diabetic. We had to force him to focus on savory cooking."

Tommy shakes his head. "He doesn't want to hear from me. I broke his heart. I'm the last person that should be contacting him."

"He does want to hear from you. He's only been baking and cooking so much to stop himself from contacting you because he wants to give you space and respect your boundaries post-breakup."

"What would I even say? That I panicked and ran? I told him he would break my heart if we moved in together. There's no coming back from that."

Eddie sighs and sets his drink down. "Listen, the first time you ended things with Buck, I told him he was an idiot but to call you anyway. Now it's your turn to be the idiot. Go get your man back. Call him. Talk to him. He'd settle for a text. Just do something! You both are suffering without each other. You don't have to move in with him. He just wants you back in his life."

More tears run down Tommy's face and it turns into full sobs. Eddie scoots closer to him and gives him a hug. Tommy clings to him, sobbing even harder.

After drinks, they stop by a taco place and sober up while eating delicious birria tacos. They go back to Tommy's place, and Eddie sleeps on the couch just to make sure Tommy is alright. Before he falls asleep, he texts Buck.

"If Tommy contacts you, go easy on him. He's an idiot too."

When Tommy wakes up the next morning, he nearly stops breathing when he sees that Evan texted him.

"I miss you." was all it said.

Tommy cradles his phone in his hands for several minutes before pressing the call button. He holds his breath until Evan answers.

"I miss you too," Tommy says.

[rafesbangs]

𝜗𝜚 bunny!reader has always had a thing for a regular at her bookstore, older!rafe only comes in to see her

c!w; mdni !! older!rafe, dom!rafe, bunny!reader, age-gap (reader is 18+), size kink, rafe gets called 'daddy' a few times, dirty talk, mutual pining obviously, 'unprotected' sex, p in v, creampie, overstimulation (if you squint), cum play, cum eating, oral (f. receiving)

notes; i had such bad writer's block during the making of this so i apologise if this isn't my best work... also its kinda long before the smut but it needed some plot !!

you'd just gotten a job at a new cozy bookstore in town. it was perfect, had rows and rows of every genre of book a person could think of and a lovely little cafe with a cozy area to read in too. you loved working there, and had recently gotten much more comfortable after finally getting the hang of everything.

there were quite a few regulars that would come in for the coffee and a book, lots were mothers with quiet children that would sit down in the children's corner and read, others were just people of all ages that particularly enjoyed sitting in the bookstore for hours.

you were stacking shelves the first time you saw him; tall, gorgeous and smiling slightly under his cute scruffy moustache. he was flicking through the non-fiction books. though he didn't look like someone that read, adorned in workwear and partially grubby clothing, most likely from his blue collar job.

you could tell he was definitely older, around ten years your senior but still so pretty. after that first minor interaction you started seeing him come in a lot more, every other day basically. you'd worked up the courage to say hi to him after a few more times of seeing him and although your face was probably bright red, he smiled wide and started a conversation with you.

after the ice had been broken you would always talk to him when he came into the bookstore, it got to a point where he wasn't even pretending to be interested in the books around him anymore, he obviously had come in there to see you again.

rafe had also started coming in early before work started, he looked so good in his carhartt jacket and big boots, not yet dirty from a days work. he'd make sure you were the one to make his coffee, always mumbling something about you having a secret gift as he grinned, letting his hand linger over yours when he'd take his cup.

the tension between the two of you was palpable, your friends and co-workers would make jokes about how no one needed to read romance books in there anymore, they had a whole story playing out in front of them.

you would always laugh and smile at their comments, smitten over the idea of being with rafe but there was always the lingering thought that it was just friendly flirting. nothing more. he probably had a girlfriend, or a wife or something. he was too old and too gorgeous, why would he actually want anything to do with little old you.

these thoughts had you spiralling significantly on one particular day; what if you were wasting all your time and feelings on this older guy that would never want you? would you ever get over him? would you be alone forever?

you were zoning out - hard - as you slid the last few books of your shift onto the shelf, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw him standing in front of you with a grin.

"sorry, did i give you a fright?" he mumbled, steadying you with his touch, "'thought you'd heard me when i said y'name but there must be s'much goin' on in that head of yours."

you took a breathe and smiled weakly at him, not being able to shake your pessimistic thoughts from seconds before as he stood in front of you, handsome and speaking.

"no, sorry- lots on my mind i guess" you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers. rafe's brow furrowed, he'd seen you stressed and frustrated because of work but never like this, anxious and pensive.

he tilted his head a little, "what's wrong hm?" he softly coaxed, looking deep into your eyes as he reached out and rubbed your arm with his thumb.

you looked up at him through your lashes, "nothing.. nothing really..." you mumbled, chewing your lip a little.

his gaze darkened as he watched you, "something you wanna ask me bunny?"

you shook your head after shuddering at the nickname. a nickname only rafe used with you, it never failed to give you goosebumps down your body and cause your thighs to squeeze together a little, "don't worry.. er, i'm about to close up in a minute - you don't mind walking me to my car do you?"

his pursed lips melted into a smile and he looked up for a second before nodding. you smiled at him before finally putting away the last few things and grabbing the bookstore's keys. rafe followed you out as you left the store and locked the doors from the outside.

"cold tonight hmm" rafe remarked, looking out at the dim parking lot and neighbouring streets as he walked close to you. you hummed in agreement, readjusting the jacket tighter around you.

when you finally reached your car you looked up at him with a longing smile before he tilted his head, grinning at you, "you gonna tell me what you were thinking about earlier?"

you shook your head, nerves chewing at your lip again.

"c'mon, 'm not gonna see you tomorrow, 'ts your day off bunny, can't make me just wonder all this time hm?" he playfully whined, inching his body closer to yours. you were a little stunned by his words.

"you remember my day off's tomorrow?" the nerves were rising in your tummy now, bubbling around and exploding.

he smirked, sliding your hand into his, "course i'd know when the only reason i go into that bookshop isn't there."

"rafe" you gushed, covering your face a little and shaking your head. you couldn't believe your ears, you thought you weren't stupid or anything but here you were, hearing that he wanted you the whole time. "i thought you were just.. i don't know, entertaining the idea of me this whole time..."

his lips parted and brow furrowed as if it was completely incomprehensible that he might've not actually wanted you, "bunny... you must be talking pure shit now because i thought i'd made it obvious i wanted you from the second i'd gotten to know you."

you chewed at your lip, heat pooling in your tummy as he instinctively inched closer to you as he spoke. all you wanted to do now was jump his bones, and you kept glancing down at the bulge in his pants as it became closer and closer to you.

he noticed your wandering eyes and laughed a little, throwing his head back before sliding both hands up your arms carefully, "...so you said you don't have heating huh?"

you nodded, feeling dizzy at the realisation of what he was about to ask you.

he scoffed with a grin, "see, i've got heating at my place that works pretty well, and - bunny, with the way you're looking at me right now, i think we're better off going there."

you smiled, staring up at him through your lashes before nodding and in an instant he'd grabbed your hand, leading you to his truck. the drive was probably fairly quick, but it felt like hours of agony to the both of you as you patiently waited. rafe's hand was possessively gripping your thigh and you felt wetness in your panties thinking about where else his hands would trail to.

it was a blur, stumbling out of his truck and into his house, you barely looked at the place before the two of you, sloppy and all over each other, had made it to his bedroom. your body was on vibrate but he took a second to take his huge jacket and long sleeve shirt off.

you breathed heavily, eyes widening when street light through the window illuminated his toned chest, he was built like a greek god and you nearly moaned at the thought of all that being all over you.

he teasingly peeled your clothes off, article by article, grinning all the way. he could see you twitching and heavily breathing at every movement, it only fuelled him more.

finally you were in nothing but panties and a bra, matching of course, which made rafe's eyes go wild, "jesus, look at you." he breathed, running his hands along the side of your body as you lay under him.

you slid your arms around his neck and tried to pull him in but he grinned at your lack of strength and you frowned playfully, squirming at the lack of action.

"you gonna ask nicely bunny?" his lips were centimetres away from yours, he was really enjoying teasing you now.

"please... please i want you inside me so bad" you whined, pouting and running your hands into his shaggy mullet. he smirked and leaned in, passionately pressing his lips to yours, engulfing you in heat.

your hands pulled at his jeans, ripping down the zipper as you slid a palm across his clothed cock, gasping at his lips over how big you found him to be.

he tugged himself out of his boxers before lowering down to your core, you burned with desire as you watched the greek god looming over you, slowly bully his cock into your weeping hole.

you groaned at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt. your grip around his neck tightened, along with his hands holding you steady at your hips.

he drilled into you at an unrelenting pace, the sound of his cock diving in and out of your wet pussy causing him to groan gutturally, "uhghh, you like this big cock baby? c'mon, tell me you've been thinking about daddy's cock since you met me hmm"

you eyes were rolling back, the pleasure becoming too much already, "mmmh i think about daddy's cock all the time... oh! fuuuck."

you looked down at your tummy, a clear huge bulge poking everytime rafe drove his dick into you, only making you dizzier. he was just so big.

a creamy line of arousal was thick around the base of rafe's cock, your breath all ragged as he continued to drill into you, toying with your clit to overstimulate you.

you were shaking under him, one hand gripping onto a bicep and the other tugging the sheets beside you. the sheer girth of him was splitting you open, rafe grinned at the yelps escaping your lips with every thrust.

"pussy's swallowing me whole, fuck bunny" he grunted into your lips, launching in for yet another seering kiss while his thrusts became sloppy but deeper. plap-plap-plap filled the room along with your pornographic moans.

"nghh daddy, i'm- oh, g'na cum!" you cried, nails digging into his flesh.

he was panting into your neck, "'know baby, can feel your pussy milking me- fuuuuuck" you felt the rush of your orgasm as rafe's thick white ropes coated your insides. he continued to thrust into you a few more times, watching your pussy swallow all his cum before pulling out.

"such a good bunny, look at that shit.." he mumbled, dragging a finger over your wet whole, playing with and pushing his release back into you. "so wet..."

he dipped his head down, lapping up both your juices that had coated your folds. you twitched from the sensation, still recovering from his cock.

"rafeee- oh god- too sensitive.." you whined, hand laced in his hair. he lifted his head and looked at you with a grin, his moustache gleaming with wetness.

"oh bunny now that i've had you, shit, i'm never letting my little girl go."

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling last my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and pressing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was taking shots without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, pressing closer to his body. My hands teaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly bringing me closer to him. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“Let’s not wait then, birthday boy.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[elryuse]

Hierarchy

Pt 5 : Complicated

For My Other Hierarchy Story, Please Kindly Check Over Here. Hope You Liked It.

"You kissed him?!" Ryujin’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and accusing. Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling as she stared at So-hyun, who stood with an unreadable smirk plastered across her face. The room was silent now, save for the faint hum of music in the background. Everyone was frozen, their phones still raised, capturing every second of this chaotic moment.

I couldn’t move. My chest tightened as I looked from Ryujin to Wonyoung, who stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of shock and something darker—something like hurt. My head spun, my thoughts a jumbled mess. What just happened? I glanced at So-hyun, who met my gaze with a glint in her eyes that sent chills down my spine.

"Relax, Ryujin," So-hyun drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It was just a kiss. A little… experiment." She shrugged, as if it were nothing, but the way her eyes lingered on me told a different story. It was as if she was assessing me, trying to figure out how I fit into whatever game she was playing.

Ryujin stepped forward, her fists clenched. "You don’t just kiss someone like that! Especially not him! What are you even—"

"Oh, please," So-hyun interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Don’t act like you own him, Ryujin. He’s not your property." She turned to me, her smirk widening. "Isn’t that right, Y/n?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My throat felt dry, my mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. I had come here thinking it would be just another night, another chance to blend into the background. But now, I was the center of attention, caught in a web I didn’t understand.

And then there was Wonyoung. Her gaze burned into me, filled with questions I couldn’t answer. Why did I kiss her? Why did I let myself get swept up in the moment? I wanted to explain, to tell her it was a mistake, but the weight of everyone’s stares held me back.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until So-hyun broke it with a laugh—soft, almost musical, but laced with something sinister. "Well, this has been fun," she said, clapping her hands together. "But I think it’s time we moved on. Come on, everyone, let’s dance!"

She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me toward the center of the room. The crowd parted around us, whispering behind their hands, their eyes following our every move. So-hyun leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "You’re mine now," she whispered, her voice low and commanding. "Whether you like it or not."

Earlier that evening, everything had seemed so simple. I had arrived at So-hyun’s mansion feeling out of place, my suit wrinkled, my nerves on edge. The limousine Ryujin had arranged for me felt like overkill, and the grandeur of So-hyun’s home only made me feel more out of my depth. But I had promised Ryujin I would come, and I didn’t want to let her down.

Ryujin greeted me at the door, her smile bright and infectious. "You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a quick hug. "Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one."

I laughed nervously, allowing her to lead me through the crowded mansion. The party was already in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and champagne. Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, dancing, and flirting. It was overwhelming, but also exhilarating.

As Ryujin handed me a glass of something bubbly, I noticed Wonyoung standing by the piano. She looked stunning, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her dress shimmering under the soft light. I hadn’t seen her since the day I played the piano at her family’s home, and the memory brought a strange flutter to my chest.

Wonyoung caught my eye and smiled faintly before turning away. I wondered what she was thinking, whether she remembered that day as vividly as I did. But before I could approach her, Ryujin looped her arm through mine and dragged me toward the dance floor.

The night blurred after that. Shots of liquor, laughter, and the dizzying rush of being surrounded by people who seemed to actually want me around. For the first time since starting at Jooshin High, I felt like I belonged. But that feeling shattered the moment I kissed Wonyoung.

Now, as So-hyun led me deeper into the crowd, I felt like a puppet on strings, helpless to resist. She stopped suddenly, turning to face me. Her eyes were intense, searching, as if she was trying to see straight through me.

"Do you know why I kissed you?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.

I shook my head, too stunned to speak.

"Because you’re interesting," she said, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You’re not like the others. You’re not afraid to take risks. And that makes you dangerous."

"Dangerous?" I repeated, my voice hoarse.

So-hyun nodded, her smile fading. "People like you disrupt the balance. And at Jooshin High, balance is everything."

Before I could respond, she kissed me again—harder this time, more possessive. The room erupted into cheers and whistles, but all I could focus on was the cold steeliness in So-hyun’s eyes. This wasn’t about attraction or affection. This was about control.

When she finally pulled away, I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. So-hyun leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. "Welcome to the game, Y/n," she whispered. "Let’s see how long you can survive."

She walked away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the crowd. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing. What have I gotten myself into?

"Y/n," a voice called from behind me. I turned to see Wonyoung standing there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "We need to talk. Now."

Wonyoung’s grip on my wrist was like a vice as she dragged me through the labyrinth of So-hyun’s mansion. The air grew colder the further we went, the noise of the party fading into an eerie silence. My head was still spinning from the alcohol, but the sharpness in her voice cut through the haze.

“What the fuck are you planning here?” she hissed, slamming the door shut behind us. The room was dimly lit, its walls lined with shelves full of books and trinkets that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than a teenager’s home. Wonyoung leaned against the door, her arms crossed, her glare piercing through me like daggers.

I stumbled backward, holding up my hands defensively. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m drunk, Wonyoung. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Cut the crap,” she snapped, stepping closer. Her voice was low, dangerous. “You kissed me. In front of everyone. And then So-hyun pulls this stunt? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve just thrown yourself into?”

My throat tightened. She wasn’t wrong. I had no clue what was happening. One moment, I was trying to survive the chaos of the party, and the next, I was caught in some twisted power play between two of the most influential girls at Jooshin High.

“I swear, I didn’t plan any of this,” I stammered, my voice cracking under the weight of her stare. “So-hyun… she just… kissed me out of nowhere. I didn’t even—”

“And you think that makes it better?” Wonyoung interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She closed the distance between us, her face mere inches from mine. Her breath smelled faintly of mint and something sharper, almost metallic. “Do you have any idea what So-hyun is capable of? What I’m capable of?”

I flinched. Her words carried a threat I couldn’t fully comprehend, but it sent a chill down my spine nonetheless. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Before I could finish, the door burst open, and So-hyun strode in like a storm. Her presence was commanding, her every movement calculated. She didn’t even glance at Wonyoung; her focus was entirely on me.

“Enough of this,” So-hyun said coolly, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin just enough to make me wince. “Y/n, come with me.”

Wonyoung stepped forward, blocking our path. “Where do you think you’re taking him?”

So-hyun smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “That’s none of your concern, darling. He’s mine now.”

The way she said it—so casually, so possessively—made my stomach twist. But before I could protest, So-hyun was already pulling me out of the room, leaving Wonyoung standing there, her fists clenched, her expression a mix of fury and something else I couldn’t quite place.

The hallway felt endless as So-hyun dragged me toward the garage. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but every thought felt sluggish, drowned out by the alcohol and the adrenaline coursing through my veins. When we reached the garage, she shoved me toward one of her supercars—a sleek, black monstrosity that screamed wealth and power.

“Get in,” she ordered, sliding into the driver’s seat. Her tone left no room for argument.

I hesitated, glancing back toward the mansion. Ryujin stood at the entrance, her eyes wide with confusion. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. When our eyes met, I saw a flicker of hurt, maybe even betrayal, before she quickly turned away.

“I said get in,” So-hyun repeated, her voice sharper this time. She rolled down the window, her icy gaze daring me to defy her.

Swallowing hard, I opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. The leather was cold against my skin, the scent of luxury and something vaguely chemical filling my nostrils. So-hyun started the engine, the roar of it drowning out any chance of escape.

As we sped away from the mansion, the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold. My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I wanted to ask where we were going, what she wanted from me, but the words wouldn’t come. So-hyun drove with a quiet intensity, her hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again, her voice soft but laced with venom. “Do you know why I brought you here tonight, Y/n?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

“Because you’re different,” she said, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You’re not like them. You don’t play their games. You don’t follow their rules. And that… that makes you dangerous.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t feel dangerous. I felt lost, out of my depth, like a pawn being moved across a chessboard by players far more skilled than I could ever hope to be.

“But here’s the thing,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “In this world, danger is power. And power… well, that’s all anyone really cares about, isn’t it?”

She pulled over in front of an empty park, the trees casting long shadows in the moonlight. Turning to face me, she placed a hand on my cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You have potential, Y/n. Don’t waste it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “What do you want from me?”

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Everything.”

The drive to the penthouse was silent, save for the low hum of So-hyun’s luxury car. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, casting fleeting shadows across her sharp features. She sat perfectly poised, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, her expression unreadable. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being pulled into something far beyond my control. Every time I tried to speak, the words caught in my throat. What could I even say? Her presence alone was enough to render me speechless.

When we arrived, the penthouse loomed above us like a monument to her family’s wealth and influence. A private elevator whisked us up to the top floor, and the doors slid open to reveal a space that felt more like a throne room than a home. The walls were lined with abstract art—dark, twisted pieces that seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but the beauty of it was overshadowed by the heavy tension hanging in the air.

So-hyun strode ahead of me, her heels clicking against the polished marble floors. She didn’t look back, but her voice carried through the vast space. “Make yourself comfortable, Y/n. We have a lot to discuss.”

I hesitated, unsure where to sit or even if I should. The enormity of the room made me feel small, insignificant. Finally, I perched on the edge of a sleek leather couch, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. So-hyun disappeared into another room, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

She returned moments later, holding two glasses of deep red wine. She handed one to me, her fingers brushing mine deliberately as she did. I took the glass, though my hand trembled slightly. She sat down beside me, closer than necessary, her thigh pressing against mine. The warmth of her body was disorienting, and I fought the urge to move away.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/n,” she said, taking a slow sip of her wine. Her lips glistened faintly when she pulled the glass away. “First Wonyoung, then Ryujin, and now… me. Tell me, do you always find yourself at the center of such chaos?”

I shook my head, unsure how to respond. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It just… did.”

Her laughter was soft, almost musical, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Sometimes, darling, life has a way of pushing us into places we never expected. But what matters is how we handle it. And you… you interest me.”

I looked at her, my confusion evident. “Why? I’m just a scholarship student. I don’t belong here.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. “That’s exactly why you’re interesting. You’re different. Unpolished. Raw. And in a world filled with people who think they know everything, that makes you dangerous.”

My heart pounded in my chest as her words sunk in. Dangerous? Me? The idea was laughable, but the intensity in her gaze told me she wasn’t joking. She set her glass down on the table, then reached out to trace a finger along the side of my face. Her touch was feather-light, but it sent jolts of electricity through me.

“Tell me, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice dripping with a quiet authority. “Do you enjoy games?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “It depends on the game.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. “Good answer. Let’s see how well you play.”

Before I could react, she stood and walked over to a sleek black piano positioned near the window. She ran her fingers lightly over the keys, the notes soft and haunting. “Come here,” she commanded, not bothering to turn around.

I obeyed without thinking, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. When I reached her side, she gestured for me to sit on the bench beside her. Her proximity was overwhelming, her scent—something floral and intoxicating—filling my senses.

“Play something for me,” she said, her tone daring me to refuse.

“I-I’m not very good,” I stammered, my nerves betraying me.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply, her eyes locking onto mine. “I saw you play at Wonyoung’s house. You’re better than you let on. Now… play.”

My hands hovered over the keys, trembling slightly. I finally settled on a piece I knew by heart, letting the music flow through me. As I played, So-hyun watched me intently, her gaze never wavering. When I finished, she didn’t clap or praise me. Instead, she placed her hand over mine, stopping the final note from ringing out.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But beauty isn’t enough. You need to learn how to use it.”

I frowned, unsure what she meant. “Use it?”

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she spoke. “Power isn’t about what you have, Y/n. It’s about how you wield it. And I think it’s time you learned how.”

Her hand slid up my arm, sending a shiver through me. My mind screamed at me to pull away, to run, but my body refused to obey. There was something magnetic about her, something that kept me rooted in place.

“W-what are you saying?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m saying that I can teach you things no one else can. But first… you have to prove you’re willing to play the game.”

Before I could respond, she gripped my chin firmly, forcing me to look into her eyes. They burned with an intensity that was both terrifying and thrilling. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

My breath hitched. “What?”

“Kiss me,” she repeated, her voice low and commanding. “Unless you’re too scared.”

The challenge in her tone ignited something inside me—a mix of defiance and desire. Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was electric, fueled by a raw, untamed energy. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily. So-hyun’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as though she had just won a small victory. “Good,” she purred. “But don’t think for a second that this means you’ve earned my trust. This is just the beginning, Y/n. And if you want to survive in my world, you’ll need to learn how to play by my rules.”

[fuctacles]

<< 14 | 0 | 16 >>

looking for dog-themed songs for the fic playlist

They sit facing each other on the warmed up concrete, having given away the lawn chairs to the girls. Steve is sliding every piece of onion off his skewer and onto Eddie's plate, which sits right next to his for easy sharing. It reminds him of cafeteria meals and swapping snacks with friends, something he never had with Steve, because of how different they were in high school. It makes him wonder if what he's feeling could really be mutual. 

"Are you staying for the movie?"

His eyes snap back up to meet Steve's, waiting for an answer. 

"I guess so. What are we watching?" It might not be the wisest to keep around while figuring himself out, but what is he going to do? Not spend time with his friends? 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"The jury is still out," he answers dryly. "But I can guess some nerd shit will get majorly outvoted."

Eddie snorts.

"What would you pick? A baseball game?" he asks, chewing on a piece of meat. His fingers are getting greasy, but they forgot to grab napkins and standing up sounds like too much exercise. 

Steve moves the grilled bits on his plate with the now empty skewer. 

"Not really..." he says, all quiet and shy, which immediately grabs Eddie's attention. Wary of the food and drinks between them, he leans in conspiratorially. 

"You can tell me, I ain't a snitch," he reassures, and when Steve looks up, he adds a wink. Steve huffs out an amused breath.

"I like romantic comedies," he admits, watching Eddie warily, like he's awaiting judgement. 

"Huh." He sits back to properly take him in. "That kinda makes sense."

"Yeah?" Steve raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah." Eddie shrugs, and now he's feeling self-conscious. "It suits you. We could watch something one day, your pick."

Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods, do not invite Steve for one-on-one romcom watching—!

Steve's face lights up with a wide smile. 

"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that one, Munson," he teases, but it's obvious he's genuinely excited by the offer. 

"Already regretting I said it," Eddie teases back, but offers Steve a strip of bacon so he knows he doesn't mean it. 

Without thinking, he starts licking the grease off his fingers, and it takes him a moment to realize Steve stopped moving. He looks up with a questioning hum, fingertip in his mouth.

"You need a napkin?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrows. 

"Nah, I'm good," Eddie mumbles around his finger just to be difficult, and pushes it deeper, sucking with gusto. For once, Steve doesn't look into his eyes, too focused on his mouth. His cheeks are colored the faintest shade of pink, and Eddie finally realizes what he's been doing. He slides his finger out with a wet smack and smiles apologetically. "Sorry. Want me to lick yours too?" he offers, like the good friend that he is. 

Someone nearby chokes, but he's too focused on the bit to check who. Their fault for listening in, right?

Meanwhile, Steve's face turns tomato red. 

"Uh, I'll manage myself. I'm good at licking," he cringes as soon as the worlds leave his mouth, and Eddie almost chokes himself with how hard he laughs.

====

After the party, comes more cleaning. This time, as there's more people and everyone gets forced into using their two hands and opposable thumbs, it goes faster, though with much more complaining.

Sometime in the middle of filling the trash bags, Robin has changed the music. Steve sighs, when the first song plays, but by the next two, his head is nodding to the beat. On the chorus, his hips sway, and Eddie almost drops the plate he's holding. 

"Your song, dingus!" Robin yells when the next song starts, making Steve roll his eyes. But he's shimmying his shoulders and mouthing along to all the lyrics. 

They tie away their bags at the same time, which gives Eddie the misfortune of watching him free his hands and make a silly little dance.

"Well, you ain't never caught no rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" he mouths along, and when he catches Eddie staring, he gives him a sheepish smile and a wink.

"Should I find you more dog themed songs to dance to?" he raises his eyebrow with a smile.

"No—"

"Yes!" Robin pops out from behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm constantly on the look out, but there aren't many good songs. I want to make a playlist." She grins. 

"Oh, I'm in." Eddie smiles back, extending his hand. Their palms slap together, and Steve shakes his head.

"Wow. Traitors." 

"Oh, I'd never betray you, Hound Dog," Eddie declares with a hand to his heart. Steve flips him off.

====

They pick The Battle for Endor, which Steve accepts with a sigh and a quiet "At least it has teddies," something probably only Eddie can hear, since he's sitting right next to him. He starts dozing off halfway through anyway, but Eddie doesn't wake him up until the movie ends and they have to plan how to get the younger lot home. It was a busy day, after all. 

"I'm going home anyway, so I can take them," Nancy offers. 

"Don't be stupid," Steve mumbles in his half-asleep state. "You won't fit them in your car."

"I can get Max and Super Twins," Eddie says, and the grasp around his arm tightens. He looks down at Steve, suddenly awake and frowning.

"You're not staying?" he asks, audibly upset. 

"I'll come back," Eddie reassures him quickly, patting his hand. "Okay! Mad Max, Wonder Twins, grab your shit. The sooner we leave, the closer I am to getting wasted," he commands, gently prying himself out of Steve's grasp. He scratches behind his ear as a consolation. "Should I grab anything while I'm out?"

"No," Steve says quickly, even though Jonathan has already opened his mouth, most probably with a request.

Something twists in Eddie's chest.

"Okay, buddy, I'll be back as soon as I can, no detours," he reassures again, with another scratch. 

"Okay, thanks." Steve closes his eyes briefly, but then blinks them open and pushes at his thigh, like his mind has suddenly cleared from the remnants of sleep. "Be quick, but without breaking the law." He smiles up at Eddie.

"Ugh, fine." He rolls his eyes. "Be right back," he nudges Steve's head before motioning the kids to follow him outside. 

It's suddenly silent, with the movie over and most of the people gone from the room. Steve clears his throat, watching Robin crawl over the carpet to rewind the tape. 

"So only Nancy isn't staying?" he asks, looking around the room. 

"I already told my parents I'm sleeping over." Robin shrugs. 

Jonathan and Argyle look at each other, like they are communicating in a way not dissimilar to Steve and Robin.

"It's good vibes here, man," Argyle says, his hair swaying as he nods. 

"Eddie promised we'll compare the goods," Jonathan adds. 

"Oh, right!" his friend perks up, his eyes sparkling. "Almost forgot about that."

Robin makes a face. 

"God, I really hope you mean the weed," she says. "You think I can still persuade Nancy to come back?"

The boys start snickering, but Steve quickly collects himself to answer her question, no matter how unserious it is. 

"I think she wouldn't be comfortable," he winces, because they all know why. "But I could drive you to hers if you want to?" he offers instead. 

She shakes her head. 

"Nah, just give me a beer and I'll lower my joke standards to yours."

"Okay, you don't have to be mean, Robs," Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. On his way to the kitchen, he tugs on her hair. "Beers for everyone?" He turns to look at each of his remaining guests.

Jonathan nods, but Argyle shakes his head. 

"I don't mix my substances," he says, pulling out a joint out of his pocket instead. 

When Eddie comes back, he makes a beeline upstairs, hoping he hasn't been spotted. He doubts his van hasn't been heard, her old-lady coughs being a part of her charm, but maybe he was stealthy enough inside not to be traced. 

But once he's back down he realizes how foolish that thought was. Because somehow, Steve is ridiculously attuned to him and has his eyes on Eddie immediately, like he's been expecting him. A cold bottle of beer is pressed into his hand when he sits back in the seat that's been waiting for him. 

"Dropped some stuff upstairs, since I'm sleeping over again," he explains quietly without prompting, his nervousness making him yap unnecessarily, as usual. "Uh, are we bunking together too, or...?" It was probably stupid of him to assume, considering there are more people in the house today that need a place to sleep. 

Considering his own freak out this morning. 

"Of course," Steve says with a smile that tells him no other option had crossed his mind. "Unless you don't want to?" he cocks his head, almost like he's tilting curious, pointed ears. "I promise to wear pants this time." 

Jonathan chokes on his beer, and when Eddie snaps his head that way, Argyle gives him a supportive smile and that weird surfer gesture, while patting Jon on the back.

He hopes the dim light of the room hides the flush of embarrassment on his face. 

"Well, since you promise to be decent, how could I say no?" he says, rolling his head back to Steve. 

Steve, who gives him a relieved, dazzling smile, and presses their thighs together, flooding his whole body with warmth.

It's terrifying, how good it feels. 

tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets

@ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @eyehartart

[icarusredwings]

Yall ever think about how Logan has *nothing* from his universe? I can't imagine he had a big collection of things, but it makes me wonder about his very little amount of pictures, his Veteran hats, his badges, his devils bergade hat, honorary medals. No, he wouldn't have kept all of it. Not even half of it. But I just know that he sometimes sees someone with a matching badge from a specifc group and wants to flash them his own but can't. He hates the things he's done with his life, hates himself just as much. But he hates the way he has nothing to show for it even more.

Hates the way Jean turned Logan's old room into a memorial and hung up every award he kept, every badge, every medal, every hat, anything that showed significance of the time Logan spent protecting people.

At least that's what she claimed it's meant for but this Logan knows. He knows just how bloody these badges were before cleaned. He knew what it took to get that medal and reconized the stitching in one of the uniforms because his has to be fixed the same way.

But do you know what he really hates?

That almost everything in this room is from a time in which he was owned. Treated like an animal to be caged. Leashed. Chained.

It becomes very clear to him that the reason this Logan was liked so much is because he stayed, sure, but also he let himself be controlled. Be the property of someone else. Whether that be the X Men or the government, the military, didn't matter. He hated it all.

And yet... he's still envious. Because Logan STAYED. He fought when things got gritty.

Something he was too much of a coward to do.

When things got rough, he wouldn't fight like this Logan, No. He'd leave. Like a pathetic wuss.

Still to this day it confuses him. Why did he hold such an anger for him? Why did he let himself get chained down? Why did he care about people who just wanted to use him? Wouldn't it be better to leave? Who did he stay for?

"...He would have hated this."

Turning, He sees Kitty standing there beside him. He didn't even see her come in.

"Mmh.."

".. He would have said that too... I told her it was dumb. That you hated everything she makes you out to be... " She says, not looking at him but the picture on the wall.

"I'm not hi-"

"I'm not talking to you." The statment is sharp, glancing at him for just a moment. "But clearly, you hate it too.. I wonder..Do you hate it for the same reason?"

"...She made him out to be some kinda caged animal."

"She made you out to be some kinda war hero."

The parallels were said at the same time.

Kitty looks at him, brow raised. "He spent his entire life trying not to be that-"

"And I've been trying my entire life to be a hero. Look where that got me." Logan tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Kitty turns, flicking him in the nose.

"Ow, Hey!" He growls, trying to grab her hand, but she only phases through.

"You saved an entire universe. How are you not a hero?"

"Yeah! By killing my entire universe. One in which I've killed far more than you could probably count!"

Kitty gives him a look, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "...I'm a comp sci professor... try me. I bet more numbers have came out since you were in school, gramps."

Rolling his eyes, Logan grumbled. "Sure. Like im afraid of you, half pint."

Katherine's eyes widden and frowns, now looking away, hugging herself. He could smell how much this upset her, smelling the tears whelling up and the sadness within her.

"... Look I'm sorry. I don't know what you and him had but-"

She punches him square in the nose. Blinking, the pain floods the broken cartilage that had snapped. Blood trickles down his lip. For being so little, she sure packed a punch... wonder where she learned that.

His hand comes up, feeling it, then glared, snarling. "You little b-!"

"Ha ha! Can't touch me!" She says, wiping tears as his hand phases through her stomach.

"Rule number one! Never let your guard down." She tells him, now running off, completely morphing through the door as if it wasn't even there. "Can't catch me old man!"

Standing here, Logan blinks, his hands itching and eyes thinning. He wants to chase her. He's not sure why, but... he has a feeling that this isn't a fight. It feels more like a game of tag.. a dangerous game. But a game.

The smallest of smiles come to his face, unseathing his claws. Ripping open the door, he starts sniffing, trying to track her through the mansion.

A feeling of home fills his chest. It's foreign but...nice.

And just for a second? Logan thinks he knows why the dead fucker stayed..

[loverboysturn]

✮⋆˙ newboy!matt has his after school daily debrief with his brothers at the dinner table

note: hehe i tried to add this into a blurb for newboy!matt but it just didn't work including it so i cut it but i thought it was kinda cute and still wanted to share this conversation between them so enjoy as a drabble / short blurb :)

find all writings for newboy!matt here and everything else for him here !

matt dropped his backpack by the door and slid into the usual seat at the dinner table, it was just the three of them tonight, their parents were working late again, but he was glad about that, he knew they were still angry with him for getting kicked out of his old school, and no matter how much he tried to brush it off, he could feel it whenever they looked at him, without them there, tonight he could breathe a little easier, not having to pretend like everything was fine.

"so, how was it today, new boy?" chris asks jokingly, leaning forward on his chair a little.

"same as every other day i've been there" matt mumbles back, pushing the pasta around on his plate.

nick glances up from opposite matt, looking up from his phone. "same as? come on, it's a new school, you have to be doing something different to the shit we're doing."

matt shrugs, trying to act uninterested. "nothing much to say, i'm just keeping my head down, trying to stay out of trouble this time."

chris raises an eyebrow at his brother. "out of trouble, huh? for someone who has just transferred, that's pretty fuckin’ boring kid. i spent years at our school keeping you out of trouble.”

matt sighs, wishing they’d drop it. “yeah and i spent years getting you into it, nothing exciting happens when you’re the new kid.”

he could feel his brothers still watching, waiting for them to say something else, anything else.

chris, sensing the silence as his que, his voice casual but matt knew from the tone that he had been dying to ask, “so, no girls at the new school, huh?”

matt’s fingers tightened around his fork, he didn’t feel like getting into it but he knew chris wouldn’t let this one go, he leaned in again, that annoying smirk plastered on his face. “you’re telling me in a whole school full of girls, there’s not one worth your time?”

matt’s eyes flicked up briefly, debating whether to shut it down now or not. “there’s one girl, she’s in my english class.”

the room went quiet for a second, chris raised an eyebrow, as if the mention of you was all the invitation he needed, but matt wasn’t going to feed into chris’s excitement over this, especially not tonight.

“she’s part of the popular crowd” matt adds, keeping his tone flat.

chris was looking at him now, that familiar grin smacked on his face. “oh, is she now? what’s the story?”

matt ignored him, he just shoved a mouthful of pasta in his mouth, keeping his eyes focused on his plate, because the truth was there was no story, there wasn’t supposed to be a story and there wasn’t going to be a story. matt didn’t want there to be a story.

nick chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. “is she pretty? have you got a thing for her?”

matt shot him a look, letting him know he was over this, “yes, she’s pretty, and no, i don’t have a thing for her.”

chris didn’t look convinced but matt didn’t care, whatever thoughts had crossed his mind, whatever little interactions with you had lingered in his thoughts, didn’t matter.

“look, i love you guys, but don’t get any ideas.” matt mutters, “there’s no romance with me and anyone at this new fuckin’ school, let’s drop it and move the conversation on now.”

with that, he shoved another bite of pasta in his mouth, shutting the conversation down for good.

[graveyardgremlins]

WIP ALERT WIP ALERT

What makes death so special that everyone seems so scared to talk about it? It is not as if, in this universe, it’s the end of the line. Not really. If anything, it felt more like the beginning of something.

Now, routine feels like the end of it all. Even when you’re a vigilante and everyday is a surprise, it still feels like slowly withering away. Like, if you stop moving you’re going to start rotting on the spot. But for some reason, people love routine and hate death.

Dick, for example, constantly looks terrified. It’s not obvious, as no feeling in our faces is ever obvious, but I can tell it’s there. He once said, mournfully, that we would bury Bruce like he is now, with jet black hair. The thought upset him, but I still don’t understand why. It’s not as if Bruce cares. Sometimes it feels like he is trying to speed up the process.

And sure, it would suck not to be able to see someone you care about ever again. But if Dick truly is so scared of missing Bruce, he can go knocking on Constantine’s door — or Zatanna’s, or Madame Xanadu’s, or Doctor Fate’s, or Jason Blood’s, or… you get my point — and ask for a seance. Besides, it’s not as if you can say the guy wasted his life. No one on this Earth has more accomplishments under his belt than Batman himself.

So why the long face?

Like, sure I get why they look weird every time I bring up my past death. I was a kid and all that. But they seriously need to stop looking at me like I’m planning to kill myself everytime I bring up my future death. I’m not planning to die any time soon, but what if I do? Are they going to lose their shit again?

I mean, Tim literally cloned his best friend as a manner to bring him back from the dead because he couldn’t cope with him being gone. Not to say I’m terribly worried about the Imposter missing me so much as to clone me, but still. What if I die? Are they going to try to bring me back? Because I don’t think I want that.

Death was easy, you know? It was awful up until the point where it wasn’t. I don’t remember much, but I remember being warm and embraced. And then someone dragged me back screaming and kicking. Then I woke up boiling alive, with the skin falling off my bones in the middle of the Assassin’s League Headquarters.

I’m not particularly excited about being boiled alive again.

No one in this family knows how to let go and Bruce is the worst one. I used to be so mad that his grief wasn’t enough to make him kill the Joker. I wanted him to prove that he loved me like he said he did. But I was a recently deceased and resurrected teenager. I firmly believe that the only reason Jesus reacted better to being murdered is because he was already thirty three. Now, as an adult, I’m less mad.

Bruce deals with grief like this: he doesn’t. He lets it eat him away. I think he likes it, the feeling of rotting from the inside out. Maybe that’s why he likes routine too. I think he has a lot of love inside of him that, instead of showing it, he reschedules it. Like he thinks “tomorrow I’ll show it” and then never does. And when I died, maybe he didn’t have anywhere to put that love anymore. There wouldn’t be any more “tomorrows.” So he just rotted.

It’s why I try not to be jealous about how endlessly patient and affectionate he is with Damian. Or how careful he is with Tim. Or how much interest he takes in everything Duke does. Or how he always listens when Steph talks. Or how he always comes when Cass calls him. At least, I served to teach him a lesson. 

So, yeah, when I got an invitation to a Ghost Ball, I didn’t tell anyone. Because they don’t understand why I linger in the cemetery. They don’t understand why I kill, when they believe I should be the first one to be against death. They don’t understand why I keep talking about dying over and over and over. They just don’t get it.

Also, they would totally ruin this moment for me. I’m sure of it.

How many times do you get invited to a ball? Not those shitass galas the Waynes always go to. A real authentic 1800’s ball. With the lettering cursive invitation, sprayed with some kind of perfume, sealed with a gold wax coat of arms. Not only that! To what was an official celebration to the Ghost King’s 21th birthday.

I didn’t even know there was a Ghost King!

Sure, it’s probably a trap. This kind of thing is always a trap. But they had addressed the invitation to “The Red Knight of Gotham, Avenger of the Damned, Cursebreaker, Three Times Born, Wielder of the All-Blades, the Darkest Star” and, if I am to be honest, flattery will get you everywhere with me.

I’m not entirely sure what the “Darkest Star” was in reference to, but it’s the least of my concern. The theme of the ball was Black, White and Neon Green, which completely fucks up my aesthetic. The last time I wore green I was a Robin and I’m particularly inclined to never wear it again. I’m also not wearing a tuxedo. Maybe a black suit over the armor instead of the usual jacket and a neon green handkerchief.

Now the problem is getting fitted for a suit like that. Every rich motherfucker knows that just sending your measurements to a tailor that never met you in person before is the recipe for a disaster. And sure as hell there is not a single tailor in the Crime Alley. Not that I know of. And there is no way in hell, or heaven or wherever the flying fuck the Infinity Realms were, I’m showing up to a real ball looking anything short of dreamy.

So, I did the reasonable thing and texted Alfred.

If you could come by the Manor, Master Jason, I will see what can be done. He texted back.

There is a theory going around the midst of superheroes that says that the one thing all of the bats have in common is how stubborn we are. It’s true, but I don’t think we learned that from Bruce. I’m pretty sure that’s just the Pennyworth in all of us. That man clearly only still works as a butler at 65 and calls us all “master”, “miss”, “mister” and “ma’am” out of pure stubbornness. I have no evidence of this, but I’m working on the theory that someone at some point betted that he would crack eventually, which is why he hasn’t. That I know of.

So, I showed up at the Manor like he asked me to.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tim asked.

“I live here,” I answered.

“No, you don’t.”

“Unless someone touched my room, which I doubt, then yes, I do.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Last week. I dropped by to move all your furniture 1 inch to the left counterclockwise.”

“I knew it! I knew someone was touching my stuff! Steph said I was crazy!”

“You are, but I touched your stuff. Like all of it. Including your Monster collection. You should really clean that, by the way. It’s disgusting.”

“Fuck you.”

Someone cleaned their throat and we both turned around to see Alfred standing in the hallway, looking less than impressed. I’m pretty sure we learned that from him too.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Tim said.

Alfred sighed and then turned his frown towards me.

“What? I didn’t curse.”

He raised one pointed eyebrow and that’s all it took.

“Sorry for touching your stuff, Timberlake,” I said and turned to Alfred again. “Happy?”

“I suppose that will suffice.”

“Yeah, fine,” Tim agreed and moved out of the way to let me in. “Just never do it again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing it again.”

“Why?!”

“Dick told me to stop whining and start getting on that, and I quote, ‘big brother grind’, so you and the Demon brat are going to have to endure it.”

“Why not Duke?”

“He is obviously my favorite.”

Tim just groaned and followed us to one of the upstairs closet.

“What are we doing anyway?”

“We are doing nothing. You weren’t invited.”

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit,” Alfred said, ignoring me.

“Why?” Tim asked.

“What are you? A Toddler? Why do you think?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t going to the galas—”

“Damn right, I won’t.”

“And you’re definitely not going on a date—”

“Wait, why?”

“Because.”

I turned around to fully face him. “What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Just because,” Tim made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I don’t know.”

“You know,” He gestured again. “Because.”

“Because what?”

“You’re chronically single.”

“What?!”

Tim threw himself on one of the sofas that was turned towards the closet and sank into it. “Chronically single. Chronically, meaning in a persistent and recurring—”

“I know what chronically single means!”

“Then you know.”

“I’m not chronically single!”

“How long ago was your last relationship and how long did it last?”

“That does not mean I’m chronically single! I get bitches all the time!”

“Perhaps, Master Jason, refraining from referring to your partners in a demeaning manner might be the first step to improving your romantic aptitudes.”

“I don’t– I’m not– Ugh!”

“Try this suit on. I think it will be the closest to your current measurements.”

I took the suit from his hand and closed the closet door behind me.

“So,” Tim said, “If you’re not going to a gala, you’re not going to a date, then where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s not a birthday, because I’m pretty sure none of your friends is an Aquarius–”

He kept talking and I tuned him out. The pants were a bit too tight around the knees, so they would have to fix that, and the jacket sleeves were a little too short. Besides that, I liked the red lining inside, as well as the flower pattern that almost disappeared into the black. It wasn’t very on the theme, and I would risk looking a bit christmassy, but it would be worth it. I did need a neon green handkerchief, though.

“It can’t be Two-Face, because he is still in Arkham and also not your usual target. Black Mask has been quiet, so maybe him,” Tim was, somehow, still talking.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, opening the closet door to let Alfred take a look.

“People you might be planning to make a move against in a place where a suit might be necessary.”

“Maybe I just want a suit, ever thought of that?”

“You’re fitting it over armor,” Tim pointed out.

“Touché.”

“Tt, it’s too tight around your knees,” Alfred commented.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Oh, Alfred? Do you by any chance have a neon green handkerchief?”

Alfred made a face. “I do not own any monstrosity of that sort, Master Jason. Why do you ask?”

“Because the theme is Black, White and Neon Green.”

“Wait, you’re actually crashing a party?”

Alfred sighed and made another disgusted face. “In that case… This suit won’t do.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I didn’t write the dress code.”

“Of course not, Master Jason. I would expect that you would have a better sense for fashion than that.”

“And for your information, I’m not crashing a party. I was invited. Not that you know what that’s like, Stalker.”

“Who would invite you to anything?!”

“Not telling.”

“C’mon!”

“Perhaps the Zegna will look less… clown-like with a neon green handkerchief than the Armani,” Alfred said, mostly to himself.

“Did I hear, Armani?” Selina’s honey-dripping voice came from the corridor, and she poked her head inside the room. “What are you boys doing hiding here?”

“I’m getting fitted for a suit.”

“He is going to a party and I’m trying to figure out which one,” Tim answered at the same time as me.

“Oh! That sounds fun! Do you need help, Alfred?” She asked and slid into the sofa next to Tim.

“I’m afraid I am at a loss, Miss Kyle. The theme of the evening is Black, White and, ugh, Neon Green.”

She made a face very much like Alfred’s own. “Where are you going, Kit Kat? The Riddler’s birthday isn’t until July.”

“Not telling you, either.”

She pouted and pulled Tim’s face near her own, he understood what she was doing a minute later and pouted too. “Please?” They said, like children.

“Nope. Not happening.”

Selina shrugged it off, not particularly bothered, but Tim seemed to still be fixated on the issue. 

“Have you tried that Slim-fit Hugo Boss brown suit, Alfred? I think it will make him look distinguished amongst the neon green aberration,” she said.

“Is it a winter party of some kind?” Tim asked.

“Not giving you any tips, Timmy.”

“Actually, Master Jason, that could help us find a better suit.”

I sighed. “I don’t think it is specifically a winter party. I think it's just a coincidence.”

“So it is a celebration of some kind!”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

“No need. I will find out eventually.”

Alfred brought out the Hugo Boss brown suit and held it up for Selina to see. 

“I think it will clash, Miss Kyle,” he said.

“I think you’re right, Alfred,” She tapped one manicured finger to her lips. “This party is not of someone we know. Is it, Kit Kat?”

I shrugged.

“Why do you say that, Selina?” Tim asked.

“Motherly instincts.”

The door behind them opened again, this time to reveal a mildly disgruntled looking Bruce. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a sweater and sweatpants. He was definitely sick.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Are you sick, old man?”

He sniffed. “Seasonal allergies.”

“Jason is getting fitted for a suit,” Selina answered.

“Oh?”

“And I’m trying to find out why.”

“Oh.”

“You guys are nosy,” I said.

Alfred brought out another slim-fit suit and both Selina and Bruce made a face. “Yes, I imagined so,” Alfred said, disappointed.

“What kind of party is it, chum?”

“Not telling.”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green,” Selina said, and both her, Alfred and Bruce grimaced.

“Jason, please tell me you’re not going to the Riddler’s birthday party.”

“Of course, he isn’t, silly. The Riddler’s birthday is July 21st.”

“Oh! Should I send a present?”

“It would be very polite,” Alfred said and Selina agreed.

“If this party is of someone we don’t know then it must be someone you met recently or a very long time ago. But if it was from someone you used to know, you probably wouldn’t be using an expensive suit, and if it was someone new we would have heard of it already,” Tim said.

“What makes you think it is someone we don’t know?” Bruce asked.

Selina raised her hand with a cheeky smile. “If we knew them already, little Kit Kat wouldn’t be so worried about imprrrressing them. We would have embarrassed him already.”

“I’m not worried about impressing anyone.”

“You’re getting fitted for a suit,” she pointed out.

“Yes, because I outgrew all my other suits and I can’t wear them with the armor. It’s not as if I’m buying a new one,” I rolled my eyes.

“If you’re wearing your armor are you worried about being attacked?” Bruce asked.

“Is it a mission then?” Tim asked. “Otherwise, why would you be going to a place where you might be attacked?”

“Good point, champ.”

“I’m not answering any of those questions.”

Bruce pondered for a second. “Have you tried the gray Kiton wool suit? It might null a bit of the neon green.”

“Ooh. Good idea, love.”

“Let’s see if you’re correct, Master Bruce.”

“I’m texting Dick to see if he knows anything.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Father, have you seen Alfred Jr?” Damian’s voice rang from the corridor.

“Not really, Dami.”

“He is probably in that warm spot in the library where the sun hits just right,” Selina said and stretched as if she could feel the warmth from here.

“Thank you, miss Kyle,” Damian poked his head inside. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome, Damian.”

“I live here.”

“Do you?” Bruce asked.

“Do you?” Damian asked, fully walking into the room.

You see? This is why I can’t tell them anything about this ball. Or else they will want to come with, they are nosy like that, I’d have to explain to every cute person I meet why I brought my entire family with me when the invitation didn’t even have ‘plus one’ on it.

Jesus, maybe Selina was right.

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit, Master Damian,” Alfred said and held the gray wool suit.

“Yeah, that doesn’t do it either,” Selina said.

“What is wrong with the suit?”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green.” Everyone grimaced at that. They really needed to stop repeating the same thing over and over.

“What is the occasion?”

“Kit Kat won’t tell us.”

“Nope.”

“I’ve talked to Dick!” Tim announced. “He has no idea who could be, but his best guest is someone Jason met with the Outlaws! So I’m going to text Cass, so she can text Artemis and see if she was invited to anything.”

Damian sat on the opposite arm of the sofa and pondered.

“How much have you narrowed it down?”

“Someone we don’t know, someone dangerous, possibly on a mission, not a winter party,” Bruce said.

“Birthday?”

“No gift.”

“Maybe it’s someone I don’t know enough to buy a gift to,” I said, just to throw them off.

The three of them narrowed their eyes at me.

“Yup, talked to Artemis. She doesn’t know anything,” Tim said. “Also Dick is calling.”

He put it on speaker so everyone could suffer together.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey, chum.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, birdie.”

“Sup?”

“Jesus Christ,” I rubbed my temples. I could feel a migraine coming up.

“Jason! The man, the myth, the legend! Will you tell your big bro where exactly you’re going? I promise to keep it a secret.”

“Not even on your deathbed.”

Alfred brought out another suit. It was also gray and it still did not match neon green.

“C’mon, Little Wing! Don’t be like that! It can be that bad for us to know.”

“It’s out of principle.”

“That reminds me,” Tim said. “Dick, go screw yourself.”

Alfred made a face at that, but didn’t comment anything.

“Wait, why? What did I do?”

“Why did you tell Jason to ‘act like a big brother’? He touched all of my stuff!”

“I’m sure he didn’t touch all of it.”

“Oh, I didn’t look under the bed, but besides that? It will be very funny when you start finding the glitter.”

“What?!”

“Ah, is that why Jon found a lot of superboy merch I did not buy in my closet?” Damian asked. “Well, I must say that is not a good prank. I’m not embarrassed to say I’m my best friend’s biggest fan. Though, he did cry.”

“You say that now, because you haven’t found the bees.”

“What bees?”

I simply smiled. This wouldn’t work on most of my siblings, but Damian was small enough to be fooled and once he believed it, the others would follow.

“I swear to God, Jason. If I find glitter on my clothes I’m putting a skunk inside your house,” Tim said.

There was also no glitter, but now he would check everything first. Forever.

“Why would you do that to a poor innocent animal?” I said, to be contrary.

“Yeah, Tim. Leave the animals alone! It’s not their fault Little Wing started a prank war.”

“Yes, Drake. I’m disappointed you’d even think about this.”

Alfred brought out a deep blue suit. Selina sighed and slumped down the sofa and Bruce shook his head.

“Hey, Dick,” I asked. “Do you have any suits that might fit me and that will look good with neon green?”

“Why do you ask? Don’t tell me Poison Ivy is your plus one.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“Poison Ivy is light green, not neon,” Tim said.

“And Ivy is too old for you,” Bruce said, pointedly. I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think I’d have anything either way.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone considered, perhaps the color neon green or perhaps Poison Ivy.

“I figured it out!” Damian shouted suddenly. Selina flinched from the noise, and he apologized quickly. “Sorry. But I have figured it out.”

“What?” Everyone asked. I wasn’t particularly worried, it’s very hard for the little brat to have known about a King I wasn’t even aware of. Though, maybe Ra’s did know it before me.

“Regular-fit Dark Grey Virgin Wool Serge from Hugo Boss,” Damian said profoundly.

“What?” Tim asked.

“The suit that will go with neon green.”

Alfred, Selina and Bruce thought it out. “Yes, I believe that might work, Master Damian.”

“Good job, son,” Bruce said, making my insides twist painfully.

Selina simply raised her hand over Tim’s head so Damian could high five her.

“That still doesn’t answer where he is going!”

“Who would do a Neon Green party? Besides the Riddler, his birthday isn’t until July.”

“How do you even– No, actually, I don’t want to know. Thanks for the help, Demon Brat.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us where you’re going.”

Fair enough. “To a birthday party,”

“Goddammit! It was the first thing I crossed off!”

“Of whom?”

“None of your business, old man.”

“C’mon, tell us Little Wing.”

“What are we trying to find out?” Duke asked, walking into the room. “And why is everyone here?”

“Jason is going to a birthday party and he won’t tell us who's is jt,” Tim said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m getting a suit fitted.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell you whose birthday it is later.”

“Hey!”

“Wait, why?”

“Yes, why him?”

“Oh, Duke is my favorite.”

Duke smiled innocently at all the people in the room and did a little twirl.

“That’s not fair!”

“Hey, this is your fault. You told me to be an older sibling.”

“Older siblings don’t pick favorites!”

“Of course they do. Damian is your favorite, I’m Cass’ favorite, Duke is my favorite, and Tim is no one’s favorite.”

“Screw you!”

“Don’t worry. When Bruce adopts another one you can be their favorite.”

“I’m not adopting anyone.”

Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at that — yet another thing they got from Alfred — and Selina patted his hand. “Whatever you say, love.”

Alfred fitted the suit perfectly, to the point where that one guy on twitter that talks about male clothing would applaud. And he did find a neon green handkerchief, though he would only buy it if I promised to burn it afterwards, which I swiftly agreed to. I considered bringing a present, but something I learned from the filthy rich is that it’s always better to look like an asshole rather than a fool.

And so the suit saga ends and the ball saga begins.

One would think that an interdimensional being called the Ghost King would think of better ways to direct his guests towards his party than a set of coordinates and another number, which I quickly realized to be the hour in military time. Of course, one would be wrong. So me, my bike, my beautiful suit and my weapons directed ourselves to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, literally in the middle of Nevada's desert.

God, I am going to arrive at this party covered in sand.

[modelbus]

Would you look at that, it's another COD songfic. ⚠️ WARNING: the last bit is a little spicy!! ⚠️

Pairing: John Price X Gn!Reader

Talk

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around

Your Captain was a good man. Everyone said it. He was revered, looked up to, practically worshipped. A man who got his team in and out, often in one piece.

A man who appeared around every corner you turned, a friendly smile on his face and a coffee in hand.

"Thought I'd catch you headin' toward the armory." He'll say, offering the cup to you.

"Did you need me for something?" You ask, although you know his response will always be the same.

"Just wanted to check on ya. Can't hurt to have some company."

John Price is always there. In the hall outside your room in the mornings, in the mess hall when you are, stepping into the range when you're practicing. A constant presence behind you, oftentimes with gifts.

It's as if he has to seek you out, a magnet pulling him to wherever you are. Maybe it should be alarming. Maybe. But your Captain is a good man.

"Old wraps are no good, you know." Price says from behind you, his footsteps quiet in the training room.

You reach out, steadying the punching bag. After a moment, you turn to see him, eyes flitting down to the new wraps he holds in his hands.

"We order new ones?" You ask, already starting to unwind the current ones around your knuckles.

"Aye. Meant to be made of stronger stuff. Someone likes to wear through them."

"Guilty as charged, Cap." He doesn't offer the wraps to you, so you offer your hands instead. You're rewarded with a smile in return.

Carefully, and perhaps taking too much time, he winds the wrap around your hands and knuckles. "Gotta take care of these hands. We need 'em." His hands squeeze yours before he pulls back.

Is it a crime to miss the contact? You'll ask the punching bag. "Yes sir."

I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the things I would do So I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out How I'm imaginin' you

"A man would be lucky to have you." Price tells you from behind his beer, dark eyes slowly tracing down your figure and back up again.

The hair on the back of your neck raises, like it always does when you're in danger. When you're the prey instead of the predator.

"Not all of them are worthy of having you, though." He continues, taking a sip—a swig—from the bottle.

Was it any wonder he'd find you in the rec room tonight, alone? That he'd have alcohol to share?

"Amen to that." You answer, laughing to try and diffuse the heaviness in the air.

"'M serious, love. Poets write sonnets 'bout the likes of you."

The idea is laughable. "It's the muscles." You joke to him, glancing down at your own empty bottle.

"A beautiful body." He hums, his gaze weighing on your skin like a physical touch. "With the mind to match, of course."

Bad ideas upon bad ideas. You didn't feel smart right now, just ensnared. A rabbit who stumbled into a trap, exactly like planned.

Price smiles at you, slow and relaxed. You smile back.

"Help an old man to his room?" He asks you, standing. There's not a hint of a slur in his words, nor does he wobble. You're willing to bet he isn't even buzzed.

"You're hardly an old man." Yet you stand too, waiting by the doorway for him.

"Compared to you?" He pauses next to you, ducking his head to speak the words into your ear. "It'd be a crime in God's eyes for me to touch you."

You're frozen in place, but he doesn't reach for your body. He waits, though it's clear he's anything but patient right now. The look in his eyes is hungry — for you.

"Don't think God watches us anymore." Your voice comes out quiet.

His hands land on your waist, pushing you against the doorframe as he boxes you in. "Let's hope not, yeah?"

I'd be the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of Imagine being loved by me

John's arm slides around your waist as he settles on the couch beside you, pressing a brief kiss to your bare shoulder where your sweater has dipped down. You relax into him and his warmth easily, eyes never leaving the intense board game between Soap and Ghost on the floor.

"Having fun?" John asks, dragging his teeth on your shoulder before relenting and stopping. "They still going at it?"

"It's the most entertainment we've had in weeks." You nod. "And I think Ghost will stab him in his sleep."

"I heard that!" Soap shouts, barely even looking up from the board.

"You got bigger problems, lad." John snorts, squeezing your waist. "And I have more important things to focus on." He adds, quieter so only you hear it.

He's the perfect gentleman. A good Captain, a good man, a good lover. Sweet.

But sometimes, when his lips ghost over your skin, soft as a breeze, you get the feeling he's playing a sheep in wolf's clothing. The blue of his eyes can't hide how they linger on you when he thinks you aren't looking, and no amount of gentle affection can mask the way he always grabs for you.

Sweet little soldier, caught in your Captain's webs. Somewhere dangerous that you love to be at.

He laces his fingers with yours, sighing quietly. Probably tired from paperwork that accumulates after every mission, per usual. At least it makes him a great pillow at night.

What an honor it is to be loved by him.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the things I would do So I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out How I'm imaginin' you

"Fucking gorgeous."

You tighten your hand in his hair, heading tipping back against the pillows as his lips trace a path down your body. You're peeling apart, splitting open, right along the seam of where his kisses are. Down the center of your chest, down your abdomen, down your stomach.

"So pretty." He murmurs, eyes on you even as he bites into your skin. His tongue lathes over the mark to soothe it, only for him to immediately repeat the motion elsewhere. "And all mine, sweetheart."

"Yours." You agree mindlessly. "Fuck, John. Just stop teasing."

John laughs against your skin, squeezing your thighs just because he can. His grip will leave bruises in the morning you're sure. It's not the first time, and wont be the last.

"I've got you all to myself, sweetheart. You think I ain't gonna enjoy it? Take my time putting you in all the positions I've imagined?" His eyes meet yours, and you swallow.

You're so fucked. Have been since the second you stepped foot on this base.

"Dontcha worry 'bout a thing." He lifts his head a little to grin at you. "I've got you."

As his lips return to your body—and that fucking tongue—you send a silent prayer to God to look away.

John Price may be a great Captain, but he was hungry for something you found out far too late, after you were in far too deep.

[martincrushcameback]

LOOK- Varmijet, to me, would be so happy being the most boring guy you'd ever meet with the most boring hobbies that somehow Torty finds totally endearing.

To me, Varmi is the kind of guy who, once he's finally settled with Torty, settles HARD into total boring domestic life. I'm talking dad belly on his skinny body, newspaper, house robe, silly fuzzy dog slippers his wife gave him, morning coffee and toast. I'm talking following the same exact boring routine every single day for the next 50 years.

I'm talking enjoying only the quietest, most introspective, and "old person" hobbies. Bird watching and model train label accuracy levels of mundane. Stamp collecting, paper airplanes, newspaper crossword puzzles, only reading books about 15th century hats or something.

Embracing house husband life because wow he doesn't have to do much to make their lives happy for once and her job is great so he doesn't HAVE to push himself to the extreme all the time. Making his wife breakfast because she is a whirlwind and he burns the eggs every time and every time she eats it anyways and tells him she likes it because they're HIS boring burnt eggs and he will not admit it would crush him if she ever pointed out he burnt them but she knows and she's not a great cook either.

His life sucked until he met her and then they fought because OBVIOUSLY what you do when you're attracted to a person is verbally dis them and cause bodily harm right? That's what his brothers always did??? But like NO she's perfect and soft and passionate and he wants to pull all his hair out and finally she's like ok you know what you're my passion project. And suddenly it wasn't him having to try and figure out How To Flirt And Be A Human Person, now she's just decided they're a couple and they can do couple things and he is massively introverted but she's basically the sun to him an all encompassing and terrifying ball of energy he adores way too much.

And so domestic married life has fixed this pathetic little meow meow of a man. Turns out life is a whole lot simpler when he just wants to chill and pet his weird cat that will not leave him alone and it chews on his slippers and coughs up hairballs on his pillow -never her pillow, how is that fair you little demon?- And he's happy and his wife is happy.

I feel in my heart that he's SUCH A BORING GUY who needs the enrichment of a very introverted and boring life of routines and soft pillows and coffee and crosswords and scrabble. Let the man know too many intricate facts about the history of old war planes that would bore anyone to tears EXCEPT Torty.

He's the guy who only knows how to hype one person: his wife, and nobody else. He will fight you in the pit if you dare look at her the wrong way but also he calls her names and she calls him names and they're allowed to only complain at each other and people think they hate each other and they're like "what gave you that idea i would die for him/her" and like two seconds ago they were threatening to murder each other over spilled coffee and mismatched socks and now she's braiding his hair while he tells her that he thinks "gerbil" is a stupid word.

@ranfordgallus i was having varmi thoughts

Picture him sitting in old-timey pjs with a house robe on and the stupid fuzzy dog slippers and he's eating a bowl of some generic plain oat cereal and he's focusing WAY too hard on the crossword with Zakitty in his lap trying to chew on his sleeve. He calls out to his wife "Torty what's an 8 letter phrase you tell to someone you care about?"

"I LOVE YOU?" She calls back.

He half chokes on his cereal. "TORTY YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!"

And she comes in and looks at him confused because- "I'm your WIFE??"

This is a daily occurrence.

[deadhands69]

I Never Told You What I Do For A Living

Hitoshi Shinso x Reader

Hurt/Comfort ☔ >>☁️ From the First Five Ask game Hurt to comfort but it got a little weird. Sorry. I’ll do more Shinso in the future! Request from anon, thank you!! Who would have thought your boyfriend’s secret hero identity being outed would be a good thing?

It's so sisyphean. 

You’ve been with Hitoshi Shinso for years, but you still have no idea what he does for a living. He leaves every evening before the sun goes down and comes home late every night, sometimes covered in blood. 

Usually, it’s not his.

Usually, you don’t ask.

You just expect it. Running stacks of washcloths under warm water to clean him up every night. Tending to his wounds and reassuring him that it’s fine. 

But it’s not fine. 

Your heart breaks every time you have to look into his eyes and see the pain of whatever he’s been through. Knowing, he’ll never be able to tell you like you’ve asked, begged him to in the past. 

All he’ll tell you is: it’s nothing immoral, nothing illegal.

You spend all night wondering how anyone could even get close to him with his quirk. What he could possibly be doing. And what kind of life you’ll have with someone who clearly has a separate life they could never share with you. Just when you start to fall asleep, the alarm goes off. The bags under your eyes can easily compete with his at this point.

And then you drag yourself out of bed and do it all again the next day.

This repeats night after night after night, like it always has.

Until it doesn’t.

And he doesn’t come home. 

Or answer his phone.

The sun is beginning to peek through the blinds in your shared apartment when, finally, your phone buzzes. You answer hopefully but your heart immediately drops. 

It’s the hospital. Something about taking him in for surgery. You vaguely hear the words ‘fractures’, ‘contusion’, and ‘lucky’ but you’re barely able to listen at this point. Everything is a whirlwind. You throw on your jacket and rush out the door still in your house slippers. 

Only to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The TV bolted to the wall overhead flashes through recent news. Weather. More news. It’s all quite repetitive until a new story is thrown into the mix.

“BREAKING” the headline flashes, “unranked secret hero hospitalized after identity leaked.” You don’t need to listen to the rest of the story to know who they’re talking about.

Eventually, you’re joined by a tall dark haired man in the waiting room. You’ve never met him, but he knows you by name. Without much introduction, he jumps into the details. 

 How they’re moving him to other missions. How they should have been more careful and he’s so sorry for the pain he’s caused you both. An hour ago, you didn’t know anything about your boyfriend’s life, now you’re overwhelmed with it. The man sitting in the uncomfortable chair across from you continues speaking with the assumption someone had already contacted you before this. He apologizes again.  

It should come as some small relief to hear the man speak about their missions. Knowing the significance of the cycle you’d been in, what he’s done to help people. You should feel relieved that he’s always had someone there to talk to. That he’ll never have to hide anything from you again. It’s not over yet though.

Hitoshi should be the one to tell you these things. 

“Excuse me,” you mumble to who you’ve assumed to be his sensei. He nods.

The nurses station is busy, but as soon as they see you, you’re informed they were about to bring you back. As you follow their footsteps, you worry what state he’ll be in. Wishing you’d listened more to the phone call. Asked more questions while you were in the waiting room. After years of cleaning his wounds, you were used to it on some level but this is different.

“He’s just waking up, I’ll give you some time before letting anyone else in.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, tapping open the door to the dark room.

He doesn’t look much worse than you’ve seen him. The IV and stitches are new, but he’s awake. He smiles when you enter and you’re not sure if it’s the morphine or if he’s actually happy but you’ll take it either way.

Sitting on his bedside, he leans into your arm. 

“I have so much to tell you later,” he murmurs sleepily before closing his eyes.

It’s over.

And it’s going to be okay.

masterlist

Vampire vibes! I almost ran with it but it got realllllly not comfort ending really fast so I bailed.

[signedurnamemarjorie]

How the different Taylor Swift eras would act if they had a crush on you <3

A/N: this is just a cute, hypothetical "what if"! Obviously I'm well aware that the different eras aren't their own people but I think it's fun to imagine that they're each different characters <3

°♡°

Debut~

She may act shy around you but she secretly actually really enjoys being around you. She just wishes she had the confidence to tell you how she feels, but for now she'll settle for sitting alone in her room in longing while she strums her guitar

Fearless~

She would be more open about her feelings towards you, but much like Debut I think she may wait for you to make a move before she does. She probably will say something though if you take too long to catch on

Speak Now~

She strikes me as the kind of person to secretly pine for someone for so long before just blurting out her feelings for them one day randomly (I mean she literally crashed a wedding to do just that so it makes sense for her to bottle everything up until she finally explodes)

Red~

Tries to act like she sees you as "just a friend" but no one is buying it. She's still getting over being so badly hurt the last time, so it may take a while for her to act on her feelings and pursue a relationship, even if she's already confessed to liking you

1989~

Although she's greatly obvious with her affections, she will deny just how much she really likes you while simultaneously not being able to shut up about you, much to everyone's exasperation. Her words and actions are contradictory in every possible way

Reputation~

After everything she's been through, it would take her a little bit to truly accept the fact that she has feelings for you. I think she's secretly insecure and can't seem to wrap her head around you viewing her as anything other than a "snake", much less as you actually liking her back

Lover~

Very much in love with you and literally everybody knows. She honest to God won't shut up when it comes to rambling about how amazing you are, and that includes when it comes to talking to you in person. Seriously, it's so hard to get a word in sometimes

Folklore~

More reserved with her feelings of infatuation, but doesn't try to hide her crush on you, she just doesn't announce it like others may do (cough, Lover, cough). She would however happily talk about her crush on you if asked, but she won't be the first one to bring it up

Evermore~

Will literally never, ever say anything about it, preferring to silently pine over you and wallow in her tears when she dreams of you with someone else. Would probably pass out from disbelief if she discovered you liked her back

Midnights~

Even more contradictory than 1989. On the one hand, why should she worry about whether you like her or not? She's a literal goddess, basically a queen in her own right. Then again, the mere thought of you rejecting her sends her into a deep depression for days. It's confusing, to say the least

The Tortured Poets Department~

Avoids you completely. She can't run the risk of falling in love and getting hurt again. While she may fantasize about what life could possibly be like with you, that's all they are, fantasies. Maybe in another lifetime you're together...

°♡°

That's all! Thanks for reading <3

[bunnieswithknives]

I feel bad for neglecting Hazel so much, I do have many thoughts about her.. and also a mermaid au that im probably not going to do anything with

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently