#fuckin cusp birthdays

[jen-with-a-pen]

Dancing in the Kitchen

summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him. or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.

parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader

word count: 4.9k

warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention

a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3

If I've missed any tags, please let me know!

gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Everything was cold. 

Everything was ruined.

Everything was a fucking nightmare.

Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.

You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed. 

You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.

It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius. 

Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.

Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you. 

“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”

You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.

“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”

You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.

“Tony, please, I–” 

“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”

Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.

Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop. 

“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”

The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.

“Fuckin’ cunt.” 

Click.

You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for. 

This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family. 

A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–

Knock. knock. knock.

In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.

The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.

Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked. 

Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.

This time was unlike the million other times.

You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.

“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him. 

It was then, everything came crashing down. 

You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.

All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip. 

Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home. 

“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.

“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.

“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”

“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”

“What, angel? What about Tony?” 

“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”

Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone. 

He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.

Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake. 

“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”

You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”

The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind. 

He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him. 

Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.

In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.

All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve. 

Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able. 

And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.

Had he always looked at you like that?

“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him. 

You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him. 

“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”

You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin. 

“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.

He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners. 

“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”

Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs. 

As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend. 

“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”

A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.

“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.

“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”

You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.

“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”

You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.

“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”

Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”

You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room. 

Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.

You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it. 

Or, liked it.

You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee. 

Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards. 

Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve. 

You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.

But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.

Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach. 

You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.

The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind. 

Bzzt.

You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.

⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready 

You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”

The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs. 

“Fuck.”

You opened the door. 

⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.

More like you. 

You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.

You mentally scolded yourself.

“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”

“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.” 

He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed. 

He was what you needed. 

Was he?

You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again. 

“Thank you, Stevie.” 

“You’re welcome, angel.”

You pinched yourself, then took another sip.

Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock. 

Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down. 

“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?” 

His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.

And your life.

“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.

“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”

Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety. 

“Why?”

You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.

“What?”

“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.

Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”

“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–” 

You felt tears again. 

“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”

“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!” 

You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat. 

The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.

As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.

Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.

He’d do it all again for you. 

Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.

“May I have this dance?” he whispered.

You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.

Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.

He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.

It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.

Steve had been there. 

Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years. 

He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn. 

And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over. 

Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision. 

Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.

“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“Since the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you–”

Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.” 

Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”

He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating. 

“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”

He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you. 

“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”

You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”

Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding. 

“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”

His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed. 

You crashed together. 

Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.

He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. 

Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”

“Never?” 

“Ever.”

You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild. 

[atinylittlepain]

Let’s talk about Bruce. In celebration of my *gulp* upcoming milestone birthday, I’m creating a playlist of all of my favorite songs from the year I was born.

And I’ll let you figure out the milestone birthday by doing some simple math, but Born in the USA was released that year, and I am STRUGGLING to pick just one fave from that album for this “best of” playlist.

I listen to I’m on Fire like a maniac, but I also have soft spots for I’m Goin Down, Workin on the Highway, DANCING IN THE FUCKIN DARK, Bobby Jean…all of them.

Dilemma.

Anyway hope the Monday blues leave you alone.

DANCING IN THE FUCKIN DARK lmao love that

the math do be mathing, and hey, that's a goddamn exciting birthday, i love this playlist idea

okay so, the thing about Born in the USA is i like the whole damn thing BUT, there is a favorite child in the mix :')

it's Downbound Train, hands down, probably one of my top three favorite bruce songs - there's something about that over-saturated drum beat, the imagery of the wedding house - UGH, i truly, truly love that song - fun fact, that song almost wound up on Nebraska - it was like, a Nebraska and Born in the USA cusp lmao, but they ultimately decided to give that one up to the band and make it a little bigger - but you can hear the echoes of Nebraska in this one, it's a little more mourning, a little darker than the rest of the album, at least i think

that being said, i'm pretty sure Bobby Jean is my second favorite off that album, but it's HARD to choose lol

[oddmawd]

Hey Mawd, is it okay to ask about "The Wife" from The Hunt in these OC asks or not? Just curious! Nway, sending 🎂,💯 and ☕️ for Rei!

hmmmm, The Wife...that should be fine! i left her somewhat abstract for the reader-insert lovers but she has a distinct personality i could use for this DETAILS ABOUT OCs ASK MEME...(also i did base her closely on Rei LMAO so i can kind of default to Rei's characterization for the ask game too!)

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I LOVE ANSWERING THESE AND YOU MADE MY ENTIRE FUCKIN WEEK, ILY TY!!!!!!

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs?

You put me through my paces with this one because I hadn't actually done any birth chart stuff for Rei, and I'm not very good at astrology stuff! I'm basically just picking stuff that fits the personality I gave her. Her birthday is April Fools Day! This makes her an Aries, and I like to think she was born only a few minutes after midnight, putting her on the cusp of being a March and April Aries. As for her signs... She is an Aries Sun, Virgo Moon, Scorpio Rising. This gives her Aries' ambition and drive but Virgo's desire for order while pursuing her goals, and Scorpio's strong intuition and ability to read emotions. Does she fit these signs? Sometimes, but her past has cooled some of Aries' famous temper, and her Sun and Rising signs further quell some of the impulsivity Aries are known for. She looks before she leaps, unlike the typical Aries, and she's not a selfish person as some people believe of Scorpio. She IS, however, very much a Virgo in how critical she is of herself (especially her appearance). I don't know enough about Tarot or numerology to answer the other questions, but I hope the above is enough. <3

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

Fun Fact #1: Rei's favorite emoji, coincidentally, is the 💯 emoji. Followed closely by the ✨ emoji. You'd THINK it would be the winking emoji, but nope. She saves winks for in-person shenanigans. Fun Fact #2: She owns no fewer than 50 wigs. Yes, that's a lot of wigs, but not all of them are top-grade, human hair, hand-tied, or even natural-looking wigs. In fact, the majority of them aren't. Human-hair, hand-tied wigs are extremely expensive, and she only owns a handful (collected over the course of many years) for special occasions. She breaks down her wig collection into four distinct categories: The Queens (her best wigs), the Classy Ladies (high-end synthetic wigs), the Party Girls (mid-tier synthetic wigs), and the Hot Mess Ma'ams (the cheapo costume wigs she happily beats to hell and back). Every category has its time and place. The purple wig she wore to the club in The Sight Unseen was a Hot Mess Ma'am she got on Amazon for like $15. (Bonus Wig Fact: She prefers NOT to glue down her wigs, though she used to do so for ballroom competitions and burlesque routines. Her skin is sensitive and easily irritated, and she enjoys changing up her look on an almost daily basis.) Fun Fact #3: Rei loves reading, and she loves reading nonfiction especially. She volunteers are her local library to read books to kids. She typically dresses up in a costume or fancy outfit that fits the theme of the day's book. Rei is QUITE GOOD at acting out children's literature, and kids love her because she's willing to meet them on their level and never talks down to them. She's very good with kids in general. (That may have been more than one fun fact for this last entry...)

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

Today, Rei is a double espresso kind of person. She drinks it for utility in the early mornings and to power late-night study sessions. A quick slam of caffeine is just what she needs to power through the day. BUT when she wants something she can savor and isn't in dire need of instant waking up, she goes for a London fog with a pump of lavender syrup. That's her cozy drink on Sunday mornings, curled up in bed with a good book in her favorite bathrobe. Please note that in her club-scene-visiting and dance-competition-dominating and burlesque-performing youth, however, she would down sugar-free Red Bulls by the case. Those were darks times characterized by youthful idiocy joie de vivre and complete disregard for the health of her kidneys.

I LOVED ANSWERING THESE OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH PLZ SEND MORE IF YOU WANNA!

[blackbird-brewster]

it’s like UR IN MY BRAINNNN!! and know my brain worms. and want to make me lose my marbles. jara. tebecca. i am screaming and crying and dying? my god. and that’s just one chap. pls tell me smut is coming 🙏🏻 amazing fic as always from u ugh so good

-tjj

There is DEFINITELY more coming (and if all goes well... All three of them will be coming 🥵)

I actually started this after the first two episodes dropped, but I also had covid and all that so I sort of forgot!! But found it today and suddenly was like I gotta finish this one-shot then Rebecca got involved and suddenly it's the old thing of: 'THIS IS MORE THAN A ONE-SHOT NOW!!'

Bc it's so very hard for me (a polyam queer) to write jealousy/ultimatums in fic. Too much of that already in the world. Let's just have some threesomes instead!

Also please imagine JJ and Rebecca getting on famously and then ganging up on Tara in terms of like making sure Tara is taking care of herself and stuff and she's like 'I fuckin made a mistake letting the two of you get close' 😤 Not that you asked but, I have done Tara's entire birth chart based on my own headcanons and she's a Taurus Sun/Capricorn Moon/Capricorn rising. A triple earth queen (like Lizzo and subsequently like me too, but that wasn't actually on purpose!) Very stubborn, logical, methodical to fault sometimes. She values working hard and is very detail oriented (perfect for the BAU). Taurus' are very much into comfort and taking care of people they care about, very much a sign that is usually a Care Top (they will always make sure people are fed, hydrated, looked after). JJ is a Cancer Sun/ Capricorn Moon/ Cancer Rising (again, this just came from inputting my HC about her birthday and honestly it makes sense even though it's fairly uncommon to have 2 of your big 3 in the same zodiac sign. So it's very fitting she and Tara both have some overlap). She's the caring, loyal, emotionally mature (sometimes to a fault, in terms of not actually talking about her emotions until suddenly they're overwhelming her). Homely, family focused (not necessarily just bio fam, but anyone she feels is family-- the BAU for instance). Cancer is basically the water sign version of a Taurus so the two of them are FUCKING perfect together. JJ's watery emotions help soften Tara's stoic logic and Tara helps ground JJ when JJ feels overwhelmed. Very lovely signs to be in a relationship together. Now here comes Rebecca. I fucking know we have had approximately two minutes (if that) of Rebecca and we know absolutely NOTHING about her. But I've done a lot of thinking. I'm going off Nicole's age and saying Rebecca is late 30s (way younger than Tara and I adore this), she's obviously a successful lawyer bc she's working for the DOJ and has enough pull to get inside information for the team. So that makes me think she's very career driven, very smart, probably was one of those kids who graduated top of her high school class and already knew she wanted to go to law school. Lawyers need a certain amount of charisma and people skills and all of this leads me to strongly HC her as a Sagittarius. (We won't hold it against her lol) I'd for SURE lean more towards a Sag/Capricorn cusp birthday. So I see her as a Sagittarius Sun/Cancer Moon/Gemini Rising. She gets shit done no matter who might get hurt in the process (I mean we kinda saw that play out already with her being like 'welp! I got found out for getting you private info!' Cancer Moon is 100% the type of person who's like 'We've been dating 2 months, let's live together!' as well. So I feel this is really fitting for her. That cancer moon really connects back to JJ's big water energy and really helps soften Tara's serious Capricorn moon energy. And I just think that's neat. Did you come here asking for my deep astrology lore of my Blorbos? No. But you know what, now you know!!! Don't even get me started on Emily's disaster birth chart. That woman is....A Mess. Even though their random choice of birth details in canon make literally zero sense for Emily's actual personality imo. But that's what happen when writers are forced to assign a character a birthdate because they realise it has to be displayed on her fucking tombstone.

[starry-hughes]

I’m a Leo-Virgo cusp :)

i didn’t know i was a cusp until last year when i told someone i was an aries and he was like ��no. what’s your birthday” because i don’t give off aries energy apparently

and he was like “yeah you fuckin cusp.” and then i was like “i was born two weeks early” and he was like “you’re literally supposed to be a taurus.”

[strmpt]

oh yeah remember when i was talking about how im a gemini-cancer cusp? it gets worse

i’m not the only one in my family. there are THREE MORE. one is related by a now former marriage, one is my mom, and one is my mom’s sister. only 2 of us share a birthday

that’s a lot of fuckin twin crabs if you ask me

[andyoubleedandbreathetheair]

YAS! DAVID ERIC GROHL is precisely 16 years and seven days older than myself. Our birthdays are legit a week apart (separate years, uh-duh.) I'm January 7th, and Dave is January 14. That's why I think the same way he does. If I ever get the chance to bask in the glory of his Godliness, oh man.

Of course, that comment will be taken with a grain of salt. I have worshipped Dave since I was six and saw Smells Like Teen Spirit video when it first premiered on MTV. I was just a young, young child. But I could feel the impact of what was on the tip of the cusp to launch these three men into the stratosphere.

I have always been very perceptive for as long as I can remember...and that is 3 years old.

He is my hero and always will be. I love him dearly and I just hope and pray beyond anything that I do get to tell him one day that not only did his music (and personality and being just a stellar human being.) change my life. He saved my life, numerous occasions. Along with T, Nate, Shifty, and that ray of sunshine in human form, Pat motha fuckin' Smear!

In summation, Dave Grohl rocks my rainbow socks with the individual toes.

having a hyperfixation is crazy because why do I care so much about musicians that are dead or more than twice my age to the point where they're all I can think, draw, write, and talk about

[shoyoist]

— 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑(𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒) : kurokawa izana.

content: gn!reader. dom reader, sub izana. handjob, edging, praising, riding dick, overstim, multiple orgasms (m), dacryphilia. note: happy birthday izana, my pretty princess!

— . ｡˚ ♡ izana wants to own things. he also wants you to own him.

izana is used to being showered in praise. his subordinates and friends do it often — and kakucho, his most loyal partner and confidant, never misses a chance to give him all the compliments he deserves (and more that he doesn't. kakucho flatters him too much).

so he should be used to it, really. shouldn't be fazed by sweet words or high admiration. shouldn't feel shy.

but he doesn't know how else to feel, when you lean in close, your warmth spilling from your skin into his when you press yourself to his side — and whisper, "mm, 'zana. so pretty like this."

his breath hitches when your fingers tighten around the shaft of his cock, lithe and lazy in how you pump the length, cooing more hushed praise into his ear while you lean even closer, and press your lips to the side of his neck.

he feels hot, feverish, almost — shivering when the fingers of your other hand crawl up the nape of his neck, nails scratching against his undercut as you carress his silvery hair. "h—hngh, please."

"mhm?" you purr, so saccharine in his ear as you snap your wrist once more — fist going to his cockhead, thumb collecting the pearls of cum that have gathered at his tip, before going back down. "what was that, princess?"

and in any other situation, izana would strike someone down if they dared to call him a 'princess'. if they saw him anything less than yokohama tenjiku's fearsome leader, the emperor of the nation's underground world, he would kill them. without hesitation.

but right now? right now, with your lips icy on his throat and your gentle touch at the back of his neck, with your hand around his cock, he is a princess. he's your princess. a princess, laid across his bedchambers, at the mercy of his sweet, sweet lover. "please."

"tell me, my love." you urge, arm wrapping around his shoulders as you pull him close and lock lips with him in a kiss. it's not a very deep kiss, but with how close he is to his orgasm, the force of it still puts stars in his hazy, violet eyes. "i'll give it to you, if you tell me."

you know what he wants. you're teasing him, edging him — dangling him on the cusp, and his body quivers, drawn taut with the need to find release.

"wanna—" the word catches in his throat, and he has to swallow. "wanna cum. can't fuckin' take it."

"tsk, baby." you nudge his head back towards yours when he pulls away, continuing the kiss. "say it nicely."

"wanna cum," he repeats into your mouth. "please? i—i cant. cant take it tonight, please. need to cum."

"good boy." you smile, and he lets out a keen when you increase the pace of your fist up and down his stiff cock, giving him one more kiss on the cheek before letting his head fall back against the pillows and the headboard, moving your free hand down to trace a finger lightly against his balls. "my good lil princess. you want to cum?"

izana's hips jerk, the ticklish sensation so good but just not enough to send him over the edge. he gasps, breathless as you spit on his cock and fuck it harder, cheeks burning with the effect of your words and how fucking blissful you're making him feel. "fuck, yes!"

you laugh, and it makes his face feel hotter still, but god it feels good. he's so close, has been so close for so long, and he wants more, more, more—

he cums with a sharp gasp, a choke that makes its way out without his voice, when you give his balls a final squeeze, and the heaviness of them along with the tightness in his stomach becomes too much to take. "a—ah!"

his hand scrabbles with the blanket underneath him, curling the material into his fist as he moans, ropes of thick, messy cum spilling from him.

"there we go," you sigh, watching how it splatters his thighs, his abs and the sheets, as you continue squeezing his balls and pumping his cock, determined to milk him through. "there we go."

"fuck— fuck, fuck," izana hisses, voice high and wispy, grabbing your arm in a weak attempt to get you to slow down.

"doing so well, princess." you say, ignoring the way he tries to allow himself a pause, and though the room is dark, you know his cock's flushed bright, drooling as you continue bobbing your hand back and forth. "so, so well."

he only whimpers in return, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes, chest heaving — his cock throbs against your touch, and you let go for a second, making him think you were done—

but then, your knees dip the mattress around his hips as you climb on top of him, and his eyes open again. "what—"

"shhh," you slide a hand in his hair, tug his face close to yours. taking his cock, now half limp, back in your grip, you level his head with your entrance as you kiss him. "that was so good, princess. came so hard for me. do it again? inside me?"

"but 'm tired." izana mumbles, but his hands latch onto your waist anyway, pulling you down on his cock as you sink onto it. your walls are velvety, wet and warm and tight around him — miles better than your hand, and his cock twitches, weepy and so sensitive to it all.

"you can do it." you tell him, resting your palms at his shoulders and giving him an experimental roll of your hips. he bites his lip, head lolling backwards for a moment before he composes himself.

"fuck, baby i—" he's so cute. so fucking cute, pliant as he lays underneath you, bronze skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, the shine of it rippling with each breath he takes.

you want to ruin him.

"shhh," you cut him off again. "quiet. be good for me. i know you want it so bad."

and god, he does want it. he does, he does.

emperor of the underworld, tenjiku's unbending leader, the undefeated, immortally powerful kurokawa izana — a whimpering mess, pressed to the sheets, near tears as you fuck him through.

he loves it. being vulnerable, being taken over, being a pretty little princess — he loves it, with you. loves being owned by you.

"princess," you moan, bouncing yourself on his cock as he falls back into the pillows, pale waves of hair fanning out underneath as he arches his back and cries out, tears welling in his eyes with the excess of pleasure that courses through him with each move of your body around his cock. "so beautiful, princess. my princess."

"cant," izana sobs, even though you know and he knows, that he can and wants to take more. "cant do any more — haah — no more."

"feels good?" you ask anyway, because it never hurts to make sure.

"so good!" he whines, clutching your hips and digging his nails into the plush skin, begging you to go harder, to tighten your legs around his waist, move faster and faster.

you give him a fond smirk, eyes sparking with lust and adoration for your pretty boy, watching him go breathless, watching the tears run down his cheeks as he cums again, too soon after his first orgasm.

hot cum fills you up, and the feeling drives you closer and closer to your own high, the fucked out expression on izana's face and the trembling of his thighs under you only fueling your drive.

"mm, please—no more! no more, can't take anymore!" he sobs, and this time, you know he's been pushed near his limit. but then he cries again, tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, "so good!"

so you roll your hips again, his cock hitting your sweetest spots, as you sink deeper onto him, digging his sensitive head into your favourite places, coaxing out an orgasm of your own.

"shit, 'zana," you stutter, hands tightening around his shoulders as you struggle to maintain yourself — fuck, it feels so good, so hot and so wet, you could collapse.

the white hot, searing wave of euphoria racks through you at the same time that it hits izana as well, and he whines out an overstimulated 'mm, i love you' before he's gasping for air again, the pulsing clench of your heat around his cock too much to handle.

the cold burn of his overstimulation aches, stings. and izana likes it. likes it so much.

"i love you too, princess." you exhale, hot and heavy, bending down to steal an open-mouthed, sloppy kiss from him. he moans into your mouth, finally finding it in him to buck his hips up to meet your thrusts — and jerks his head up for more when you begin to pull back.

pretty little pain-slut, you think with a smile, as you kiss him again. you'll call him that another time, though. for tonight, he's your princess. "gonna take more for me?"

and izana nods, looking up pleadingly with his violet eyes wide and innocent, begging for more. he'll always take more for you.

anything for you — who brings his emperor's front down and turns him into a blissed out, teary little princess, and loves him that way.

"good boy."

[katsukikitten]

Clip That - Katsuki's Route

Chapter One - Marlboro Red

Another loud thump pulls Bakugou from his sleep with a deep inhale and a long, exasperated growl. He had finally fallen asleep and with his phone reading eight am he'd only gotten three hours.

Which was never enough for the hot headed man, needing upwards of eight to be a decent human being. All his life Bakugou was teased for going to bed early and still being slow to rise but no one realized how long it took him to fall asleep. How hard the insomnia hit as his mind replayed memories in his head to analyze like clear film on what he could have done better.

So he was about to make this everybody's problem.

He doesn't understand why the fuck there is so much noise happening so early. Normally he and Kirishima would be up and at the gym while Kaminari slept until eleven or noon, depending on when Kirishima woke him up. So why the hell could Katsuki hear Pikachu's laugh echoing around the house.

He digs his heel into his eye, doing nothing for the deep bags under deadly bromine. Snarling his lip as he thinks a cigarette and maybe a coffee sound godly right now. Slapping on some deodorant, a clean shirt and boxers before sliding into his black jeans. Patting at his hoodie from last night, greedily grabbing for the red and white cardboard box. Flipping up the top and when he finds nothing but flecks of tobacco and not a single rolled stick he crushes it with a hiss. Tearing his room apart in search of that stupid fruity vape Denks had gotten him hooked on, hoping that at least a hit of that nicotine would placate him until he could get the kind that clotted his lungs much more obviously.

Despite his frantic searching, Bakugou really could quit any time he wanted. His nationals and championship trophies in MMA said as much when he had quit cold turkey for two years. Kirishima convinced Bakugou to train with him at 16 and the pair spent the better part of their youth fenced in a cage, climbing to the top quickly. Ripe age of 18 and Bakugou had been heavily decorated, it wasn't until he became a world champ at the cusp of his 20th birthday that he was satisfied. When the reporters asked why he was retiring at such a young age, the ash blonde with a split lip, the scar still visible today, gave a wolfish grin.

"I just want a fuckin cigarette."

And God damn it he was going to have one now. Giving up on his vape he leaves his room, the one across from his, the door open and a few pink storage boxes stacked up. Bakugou snarls his lip, did Denki finally allow his chat to decorate one of the two guest rooms like he said?

It didn't matter what that dumb ass friend of his did, it was Denki's house. Bakugou knew how hard Kaminari worked at being a successful streamer. Dominating casual and competitive games but never going on to join an esports team because to Kaminari, talking to chat was everything. Bakugou didn't get it but he never questioned it either, to each their fuckin own.

He just remembers the electric blonde asking if they wanted to live with him, since Kirishima, although still fighting, was heading more in the direction of health and training streams. And Bakugou was and always will be Kirishima's plus one. Not that Kaminari didn't want Bakugou here, he was excited, even if the ash blonde didn't know what he wanted to conquer next Denki thought he smelled opportunity. The professional steamer knowing all he had to do was give Bakugou a little nudge in the form of a few well placed videos and make him build a PC.

Although Bakugou will never admit how well Kaminari played him, at least never aloud.

Bakugou's bedroom is to the left of the stairs, across from the upstairs guest bedroom, having chosen this room because it was furthest from those two block heads across the balcony and he has his own bathroom. Well unless their were guests over.

Going down the curved steps with ease but stopping halfway when he sees Denki, Kirishima and you standing in the foyer.

You smile widely at the men, giving them your gratitude although Bakugou can tell that you're a little uncomfortable. Not because you were going to be living in a house full of men but most likely from your new and overly helpful roommates. The men holding pink and black bags while you were only allowed to carry some ugly cat stuffed animal that you could just fit your arms around.

"Thanks guys, really but I promise I'm not fragile."

"Oh we know." Kirishima beams, holding your fifty pound duffle filled with your gaming equipment, "It's rude not to help."

"Besides this is nothing to Eiji, you saw how he took that mattress up by himself!" Denki claps Kirishima on his sculpted back harshly but the man doesn't even flinch. He just puffs his chest out in pride, long red hair with his dark roots showing falls into his face. You give another polite although clipped smile. They were really too kind and you were entirely grateful the only issue was you just had an incurable case of hyper independence so any time you received any sort of help, it made your skin crawl.

Before you can try to pry at least one bag from the men turned pack mule a dark voice cuts through the air.

"Fuck is she doin here?"

Kaminari visibly stiffens as Kirishima pouts.

"Come on man, don't be like that. We agreed to have another gamer roommate. She plays a lot of casual games!" Kaminari is excited again by the end of his sentence, the possibilities and your potential made him feel as if electricity was dancing in his veins.

"Yea when I agreed to that shit I thought it was gonna be Zero from Deku's team." Bakugou growls, really wishing he had a smoke to place between his lips.

"That's your team too ya know." Kirishima adds and Bakugou scoffs.

"I didn't agree to some discordkitten ." He spits your username like venom, the disgust worming its way under your skin and further poisoning your heart. Your lip snarls, crossing your arms since he obviously knew you, or at least of you if he knew your twitch tag.

"Ya know I wouldn't expect someone as boring as you to get it." You glare up at him, a cruel smile on your lips, "What's it like to be so one dimensional, Katsuki? I just can't even imagine how dull you truly are or maybe the word I'm looking for is daft? Since you don't even get a joke that's so simple to understand."

"Don't fuckin use my first name." He snarls, bromine eyes burning into your skin.

"I'm just making it clear that it's you I'm speaking to. Ya know since you have a little trouble with nuance."

"At least I don't have to be a fake bitch for views. Ya act all cute when you're the furthest thing from it." Bakugou's eyes dull as he glares, exhaustion and the gnawing hunger for nicotine pulling at his limbs, forcing him down the stairs.

"Guys guys!" Denki stands between the two of you, literally. Making gestures with his hands as he starts to sweat, "Come on, Katsuki, be civil."

"Suck my dick." He says, bumping his shoulder against Denki and then Kirishima, who gives a stern glare. He grabs his keys and makes his way towards his black coupe, no doubt needing to drive now instead of walking to the closest gas station.

"Ah I know he's an asshole but underneath all that he's a really nice guy. You just gotta get to know him." Kirishima reassures you and you try to keep the heat out of your gaze when you look up at him. He's smiling so wide his eyes are closed and you're wondering just how the fuck two of the kindest, most respectable guys ended up housing with a man so toxic he got banned from gaming platforms almost weekly, not that that ever stopped him.

"Let's set your things down and we'll give you a tour and the house rules." Denki climbs up the stairs two at a time and Kirishima follows only after you. Climbing the steps in your dark leggings and oversized black cardigan you wore for comfort. You were already a bit nervous, knowing people would think you were using Kaminari, stringing him along to better propel your own success. When really all you wanted to do was enjoy what you did for a living.

Denki was the one who reached out to you, having accidently found your page. Finding himself unable to click away as if he felt he was gaming with an old friend he hadn't seen in a while. String lights gave the shot of you a warm and cozy glow. Legs tucked under you as you sat on your floor on a faux sheepskin in an Eevee onesie, all the eeveelutions sitting dutifully at your side as they supervised your game play.

Curiosity always second nature to Denki, he wonders if Eevee was your favorite and why you liked her so much. He donates $10.00 just to find out and to this day he still hasn't forgotten how your face lit up. How your smile made one creep onto his own face, voice laced with excitement as you answers.

"Gengar and Eevee are my favorites. I love Eevee so much because she can be whatever she wants to be! She just has to trust herself!"

After that he watched your entire four hour stream before he dms you to chat. Some long discord call, half a year of friendship and a three hour flight later you find yourself standing in the middle of your new bedroom. It felt so surreal, like a dream and well it was a dream to live each day as you pleased. Playing games and chatting with people without much worry or care in the world.

A dream of stability you never allowed yourself to have. At least not more than a blip in your consciousness before you passed out just to rise early for a job you loathed.

Not to mention the generosity Denki had, giving you the first three months free until you got on your feet. You refused the offer time and time again until he finally said you'd take his offer and could pay him back by doing the house budget.

Only then did you finally agree.

"We can get paint tonight before you're all set up, whatever color you want." Denki smiles, gently setting your stuff down onto the bed that sat in the middle of the room on a plain platform frame, "Kirishima and I are the fastest painters in the west."

"But our lines aren't as clean." Kirishima laughs as you look around the room.

Denki makes quick work of showing you upstairs. Your room was, unfortunately, across the hall from Bakugou's, next to the ash blonde's room the two of you forced to share a decent sized bathroom that gave some semblance of separation as the door only opened up to the hall. Unlike on the other end of the house where Denki and Kirishima's bedrooms were connected by a jack and jill bathroom. The largest room just in front of the winding stairs is the laundry and storage room that Kirishima turned into a partial home gym.

He leads you back into the foyer, when facing the stairs to your left was supposed to be the living room that Denki turned full arcade. So many pinball machines and arcade boxes that one or two made their way into the foyer. Almost blocking the half bath and the view into the family room.

Hell, he even had an air hockey table in the center of his homemade arcade. To your right was the dining room, simple enough but it was obvious it was mostly unused as he stepped into the nook of the kitchen. Sizable round table that could seat six sat just before the long island with a waterfall countertop. A few barstools under the edge of it. Large pantry and door to the garage to your right and to your left you could see into the family room. It wasn't small by any means. Holding a huge sectional couch, giant TV mounted on the wall and with a door that leads to the gorgeous patio and pool.

Holy shit this man was fuckin loaded

It's all you can think as he guides your through the house, truly a lap in luxury. And although it was essentially a frat house, it was kept clean and well maintained. Few decorations aside from neon lights in the shape of Denki's waifus.

"Oh and this is the master bedroom. I wanted it to be fair so I leave this for guests." Denki grabs the back of his neck, it was true. He did want the home to feel fair and that he wasn't some ass hole land lord.

But he also couldn't admit to himself that he didn't deserve such a nice room, at least not yet.

It was large enough to fit a king sized bed and still have a small seating area. The en suite was the kind you dreamed about. Huge soaking tub, large shower and a walk in closet bigger than your old bedroom across the country.

"Your house really is lovely." You comment, marveling over the family room again. The view to the pool and mountain side is your favorite thing so far.

"Well it's your house now too! So make yourself at home. Oh just some quick things." He hands you the house rules to go over yourself later while he chats, "Bakugou does the cooking so be sure to tell him what you like to eat. He makes a big list that I go grocery shopping for with the supervision of Kirishima, maybe you could tag along this weekend so you can get some snacks. Groceries and necessities come out of the house account so go nuts. And trying to get your groceries on your own is a no."

He gives you a stern look at least stern for Denki before rattling on about a few important rules.

"Any questions?"

"No, honestly I'm just glad to be here." You admit and both of them smile wide as they say in unison.

"Welcome home!"

[fbfh]

jonathan byers dating headcanons

warnings: jonathan has some self esteem problems but we knew that, nothing else that I can think of

a/n: jonathan is the perfect man how many times do I have to say it also i'm waiting on covid test results so hopefully that goes not how I think it will /lh

tag list: @hopefullhearts @littlewinter1917 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl

Jonathan Byers is literally the perfect man

I'm not exaggerating when I say that

Like at all

It'll take him a while to warm up to you

Between self esteem issues and all the other shit he's been through it takes him a while to accept the fact that you really like him

That you're not using him for homework answers, or asking him out as a joke, or that Tommy H and Carol put you up to this

And even after all that, once he realizes that you just really really like him, he still has a hard time wrapping his head around it

Like you're so obviously incredible

You're sweet and talented and smart

And have you seen yourself???

You could easily pull anyone in Hawkins

And you chose him??

(Remember those self esteem issues I was talking about?)

Once it clicks that you just really, really like him

Cause who wouldn't

He's just sort of like oh… okay… great

He probably waits a little while before introducing you to his family

Joyce gives him so many relationship lectures

"Are you being safe?"

"Mom!"

At least a few times a week

Will is really excited to meet you

He's fully ready to step up into the role of judgemental younger sibling who's tests you have to pass to date his brother

He can't fully commit cause you're so sweet and he likes you immediately

But the intention is still there

Will: if you want to date my brother you'll have to get through me first >:(

You: oh wow that's a really cool drawing!

Will, immediately letting his walls down: do you like it I did it myself it's for this game called dungeons and dragons

He proceeds to explain the entire plot rules and lore of dungeons and dragons to you

Jonathan's heart goes boom boom watching you listen enthusiastically to Will ramble about dnd

You make a fantastic first impression with Joyce

If you're a girl or fem aligned there will be a lot of "it's so nice to have another girl around the house"

And a lot of "I'm just gonna steal you for some girl talk real quick"

If you're a boy more masc aligned Joyce will ramp up her affectionate "this house is just full of boys" and "I have plenty of men in my life" jokes

Joyce will refer to you three as her boys and you have to try not to cry every time

Or if you're androgynous or don't like gendered terms she refers to you guys as her kiddos

Sobbing hours have started

It's so easy to get in good with the byers

It's almost too easy

Literally all you have to do is listen to Will talk about dnd, not be incredibly shallow and superficial and be able to hold a conversation with Jonathan, and tell Joyce how great her boys are and what a good job she's doing as a mom

That's literally all it takes

Will is the only one of the three of them with a canon birthday

March 22nd, which makes him aries pisces cusp

But I know in my heart and soul all three of them have strong water placements

So prepare for a lot of group hugs and teary goodbyes when you actually have to go home

Like every time you leave

And you’re over at their house all the fucking time

Five minutes after you leave Will is like hey Jonathan when are they coming over again?

Jonathan: They just left

Will: I know, I just miss them

Joyce, who also misses you:.....

Jonathan, who also misses you, going to the phone: … I’ll call them and see when they’re free

Joyce and Will: :D

I know this is supposed to be about dating jonathan but ALL OF THEM LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

Literally you are always so so welcome at the byers house

Oh my god seeing you get along so well with his family

Genuinely liking them and liking to spend time with them

It makes Jonathan want to kiss you so hard

Like you’ll leave the room for one second and he’ll just fuckin

Dip you

And plant the biggest most cinematic movie smooch on you

He gives you this warm giddy smile and goes back to what he was doing to not raise suspicion

Joyce can tell by how blushy you two seem but she doesn’t say anything

Later that night: “are you sure you’re being safe?” “mom!!!”

Seriously though jonathan is so fucking cute

He’ll go back and forth between super fucking confident and super fucking shy really fast

It’s adorable

You can’t get enough of him

When he does that

Like when he really kisses you

He’ll seem so self assured

And then a few moments later it hits him that he just kissed you like that

Not just that but like

He gets to kiss you like that regularly

He gets to hold you and touch you and take candids of you

And you want to hold him and kiss him all the time

You like him so so much

And have you seen yourself??????

And you picked him????

You are literally his dream come true

Oh my god he could not ask for a better s/o

And neither could you tbh

[twinblasphemies]

so, like, what are all of your astrological signs?just kinda curious, maybe the explanations for what’s wrong with you are hidden in the stars lowkey :]

Riley's either an aquarius or a pisces, I don't remember which. They have a cusp birthday or something like that.

Fog's a gemini

Jane won't even tell us how long she's been undead, just that she died at 27 the first time, so I have no fuckin idea what her star sign is.

And I'm a taurus.

-T

[kawaiijohn]

DP Angst Week Day One: Birth/Creation

Ao3: here!!

Wc: 1463

Nav: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

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The Abyss

Waking up without any idea where you are is a pretty prevalent fear for many, and for others it's nothing more than the aftermath of a baller pub crawl.

However, most don't find themselves surrounded by a vast swirling void of lime highlighter green when they wake.

The first thing they noticed was the barren hunk of rock they'd woken up on. Grey and deep violet, yet still surrounded by the swirling neon green skies.

'Either there's a storm comin' or I'm not 'in Kansas' anymore...'

They tried to think about how the hell they ended up here, wracking their brain for any small detail, but they realized they couldn't remember anything. Not their name, nor their age- nothing was coming to them. They knew 'they' was right and so was 'he'; the words felt right, even if there was no name to match.

The more he thought, however, the more his head began to swim. There was nothing before they'd opened their eyes this morning. Or was it night? Evening??

Time didn't seem to matter here.

The toxic sky made it impossible to tell what time it was, and the purple and grey soil they were standing on made them assume they were possibly on a different planet.

What kinds of things might even live here? If anything does live here, that is. Alien life had to exist, right? We hadn't contacted them yet due to both distance and technological incompatibilities... Something clicked, filling in a blank.

'I believe that's referred to as 'The Fermi Paradox'.

He blinked, not knowing where the phrase came from. How could he recall a niche scientific theory but couldn't even recall what he'd been doing the night before??

He was panicked- trying to remember anything; his age, birthday, zodiac sign... was he a Scorpio or a Gemini? Maybe he was a cusp or something interesting...

He had to know something else... Maybe he could try and recall his Myers's Briggs personality test- then he'd find more information from inference... But not everyone fit into neat little boxes even if they were wonderful starting points...

His chest buzzed pleasantly with the train of thought, but he was no closer to an answer.

He could be in space for all he knew.

Or maybe an alternate realm...

'What, did I get hit by a truck and transported to another world?!? Is this, an Isekai or something?? ...Why do I know that word, but have no clue what my name is????'

Irritated, they looked to the horizon, spotting a floating island. He was going to dismiss it but felt something calling to them from beyond.

The feeling brought them to their knees.

They shook their head, trying to ignore the call, knowing the jump was impossible to make. It would be suicidal to take that leap...

Right?

They exhaled harshly, a strange hiss passing their lips as something vast and empty in their chest demanded they take the leap. No matter how unsafe their mind knew it was, their chest was still singing for something the horizon; calling out to that something with such pulling force it felt like a black hole would devour their common sense.

Time marched on, but they did not move.

They knelt, refusing to listen to the call until their head stopped spinning. Their knees crunched hard into the sharp gravel, digging trenches to stay grounded.

Why didn't their knees hurt from this? They've always had bad joints, especially after the- after...

After what?

They clawed the dirt, shaking in fear at what could be beyond their small respite in the lime abyss. Their mind was blank, torn between urge and indecision. They could sit here alone and think more. Or. They could follow the call.

It could be a trap.

But.

Something deep within told them they'd always felt comfort in nothing, even before this. They'd always felt comforted by the void. They didn't know what all it meant, but it was better than sitting there any longer.

So they followed their heart.

It was better to die trying than to remain a sitting duck in exile.

'Geronimo.'

They expected to die, to perish as they fell into the endless (and somehow comforting) vast sea of lime; to spend eternity gazing into long nothingness until they passed the event horizon and became one with the universe.

Instead, they floated.

They managed to fall about three or so feet before righting themself, head whipping erratically- up, down, left, right. This shouldn't be possible but...

He tested the waters (so to speak) and found he could pretty much fly. They grinned, mouth splitting farther than they remembered it being able to, but that was a mystery for later.

They sighed, relenting, and followed the siren's song.

-----

Some things seemed to be very out of place. Wrong, even.

Firstly, his hands were completely black. Not just the black of cloth, but black as the void of space- small pricks of light shone when he smiled and constellations vibrated when he grew frustrated with his amnesia. Obsidian talons (he couldn't even begin to call them hands, not with how they seemed to grow in response to his emotions) replaced what he thought for sure would be bitten nails with torn cuticles. He didn't know why he expected chipped blue nail polish.

They'd just painted their nails a few days ago and with their job it always...

'Wait... what was my job?'

Why did that confuse them? They had a job. They knew they did... It was... They brought a hand to their head, thoughts turning into radio static

'My job was...'

Faces and colors they couldn't place assaulted their mind. Names came and went, leaving nothing but lingering feelings- like a song cut off by a garbled PA announcement, the clouded memories were interrupted by crackling interference.

Claws brushed his face as black droplets rushed from his eyes.

That wasn't right either...

Nothing was right but they kept flying.

-----

Green seas shifted into a black expanse, the lime color swirling faintly in the distance instead of consuming the skies. Purple doors hovered every which way they could.

Relieved that the skies became less eye-burning, they spoke for the first time. "Thank gods!! That neon hellscape was giving me a headache..."

A pause.

That wasn't right. It didn't sound right at all.

That wasn't their voice.

Their voice was nasally, high pitched and awful. Nothing like the deeper growl they just heard... Though they were slowly panicking, the deeper voice felt right. It was something they didn't know they wanted, but it clicked as if it were natural.

But it didn't matter how pleasant it sounded, they needed to keep moving.

-----

Was it days? Hours?? Were they flying for weeks?

They didn't know, had absolutely no fuckin clue. But what did know was that they'd reached their destination.

It didn't stand out much, but for reasons unknown he felt comfortable here- at peace. His heart led him to a small island. Strange, yet familiar flowers grew in patches around a worn, yet glowing path leading to a door- black wood door with silver embossment.

"Fancy..."

He looked around- well there wasn't anything else around...

They approached the strange structure and flinched when stylish street lights flickered on with a blue-green flame. The weird vibrating in their chest sang that they were here.

This was home.

He stepped back, looking high and low. He did not trust like that. The door wasn't even connected to anything! With more investigating he saw the path reacted to his footsteps but not much else.

"Great! I get led here by the power of friendship or somethin and can't even get a break??"

He grumbled, hissing under his breath as he felt his body elongate and warp in frustration. This was all the damn door's fault!

Stupid fuckin piece of driftwood!! He ran up and kicked the offending structure, noting that he felt no pain even with an all-out kick.

In his growling frustration, however, something metal and glimmering appeared on the door- a nameplate in somehow familiar handswriting.

The void in his chest sang, something finally clicked.

"Quizz, huh?" They laughed to themself. "Thought my name'd be somethin cooler! Like Maxwell... or Levi." They crossed their arms. Progress! "Well... guess beggars can't be choosers or whatever the hell that phrase was."

They found themself hesitating. That wasn't the way to go! They were certain they weren't a quitter, even with as little as they knew of themself. No, there was an apparently magical door with their name on it that called them from across the void.

No real reason to hesitate anymore. They reached for the handle with a wicked and determined grin.

"Alrighty then! Let's see what's behind door number one!!"

[shiningloki]

“Get On Your Knees And Pray To Me” Playlist

I’ve been wanting to make a playlist for my Loki x Reader fic “Get On Your Knees And Pray To Me” for a while and now that we’re getting deeper into the fic, it’s time to do just that! So, since today is my birthday, consider this my own birthday gift to you! Here you will find a list of songs with links to play them on Youtube that remind me of this fic as well as a few select lyrics from each song that particularly stand out to me. 

Happy listening!

Read “Get On Your Knees And Pray To Me” here

*The tag list for “Get On Your Knees And Pray To Me” is open! Leave me a comment, message, or an ask and let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list*

Listen to the playlist on Spotify

Hymn for the Weekend - Coldplay

Oh, angel sent from up above You know you make my world light up When I was down, when I was hurt You came to lift me up

Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande

Don't need permission Made my decision to test my limits 'Cause it's my business God as my witness Start what I finished Don't need no hold up Taking control of this kind of moment I'm locked and loaded Completely focused my mind is open

All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God Don't ya stop, boy

Somethin' 'bout you makes me feel like a dangerous woman Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout you Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't

Magic Man - Heart

Cold, late night so long ago When I was not so strong you know A pretty man came to me I never seen eyes so blue You know, I could not run away it seemed We'd seen each other in a dream Seemed like he knew me, he looked right through me, yeah

"Come on home, girl" he said with a smile "You don't have to love me yet, let's get high awhile But try to understand, try to understand Try, try, try to understand, I'm a magic man"

Lurk - The Neighbourhood

I fuck 'cause I need to, I fuck when I want I'll fuck you in love, even though it is not I'll fucking digest you, one kiss at a time You wish I was yours, and I hope that you're mine

I'm thinking we should ride To a place that we don't know To a place where no one's seen us before I'm thinking, you and I Better just go with the flow Last thing that we should do is go slow

Earned It - The Weeknd

You make it look like it's magic 'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you.

So I'ma care for you, you, you I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah 'Cause girl you're perfect You're always worth it And you deserve it The way you work it 'Cause girl you earned it, yeah Girl you earned it, yeah

Adore You - Miley Cyrus

Baby, when you hear me When I'm crying now for you I'm scared, oh So scared Oh, when you're near me I feel like I'm standing with an army of men Armed with weapon Yeah, oh

When you say you love me No, I love you more And when you say you need me No, I need you more Boy, I adore you I adore youI love lying next to you I could do this for eternity You and me

Something - The Beatles

Something in the way she moves Attracts me like no other lover Something in the way she woos me

Something in the way she knows And all I have to do is think of her Something in the things she shows me

Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys

Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you I don't know if you feel the same as I do But we could be together if you wanted to

Heaven - Julia Michaels

Love's my religion but he was my faith Something so sacred so hard to replace Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace

All wrapped in one he was so many sins Would have done anything, everything for him And if you ask me I would do it again

Magic - Coldplay

Call it magic, call it true I call it magic when I'm with you And I just got broken, broken into two Still I call it magic, when I'm next to you

And I don't, and I don't, and I don't, and I don't No I don't, it's true I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't, no, I don't Want anybody else but you

Woman - Harry Styles

I'm selfish, I know But I don't ever want to see you with him I'm selfish, I know I told you, but I know you never listen

I hope you can see the shape that I'm in While he's touching your skin He's right where I should, where I should be But you're making me bleed

Sunday Morning - Maroon 5

Fingers trace your every outline Paint a picture with my hands Back and forth we sway like branches in a storm Change the weather, still together when it ends

That may be all I'll need In darkness, she is all I see Come and rest your bones with me Driving slow on Sunday morning And I never want to leave, yeah

Mine - Bazzi

You so fuckin' precious when you smile Hit it from the back and drive you wild Girl, I lose myself up in those eyes I just had to let you know you're mine

Hands on your body, I don't wanna waste no time Feels like forever even if forever's tonight Just lay with me, waste this night away with me You're mine, I can't look away, I just gotta say

Make Me Feel - Janelle Monae

It's like I'm powerful with a little bit of tender An emotional, sexual bender Mess me up, yeah, but no one does it better There's nothin' better

That's just the way you make me feel That's just the way you make me feel So real, so good, so fuckin' real That's just the way you make me feel That's just the way you make me feel

Truly, Madly, Deeply - One Direction

And truly, madly, deeply, I am Foolishly, completely falling And somehow you kicked all my walls in So baby, say you’ll always keep me Truly, madly, crazy, deeply in love with you

I hope I’m not a casualty, I hope you won’t get up and leave May not mean that much to you But to me it’s everything, everything

Once in a Lifetime - One Direction

When I close my eyes All the stars align And you are by my side You are by my side

Once in a lifetime It's just right And we are always safe

Not even the bad guys in the dark night Could take it all away

Versace On The Floor - Bruno Mars

I unzip the back to watch it fall While I kiss your neck and shoulders No don't be afraid to show it all I'll be right here ready to hold you Girl you know you're perfect from Your head down to your heels Don't be confused by my smile 'Cause I ain't ever been more for real, for real

So just turn down the lights (down the lights) And close the door (close the door) Ooh I love that dress But you won't need it anymore No you won't need it no more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked, baby

Versace on the floor Ooh take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now, girl Versace on the floor Ooh take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now, girl

Finally Free - Niall Horan

When you're right here beside me There's nothing else I need Your eyes keep me reminded That nothing's out of reach When you're with me It feels like I'm finally free Feels like I'm finally free

[hilariouslyedgy]

tgfmtif headcanons

hi, if you read my fanfic this godforsaken mess, this idiotic fool then this post may be for you. (if u haven’t read the fic maybe check it out before reading this list.) on ao3, I asked if anyone wanted a list of hc’s I have for this fic and a few of y’all said YES so. here it is. enjoy. I may go back and add things I think of later on.

-yakko is a leo (aug 10), wakko is a sagittarius (nov 30), and dot is a pisces-aries cusp (march 20)(if you ask her she’ll say she’s an aries)

-(this ones more for me) but if I were to describe the warners in this fic as tarot cards it would be this

-yakko: the hanged man

-wakko: six of swords

-dot: queen of swords

-(look em up)anyways

-yakko started working at that starbucks in that target at the age of 16

-he really enjoyed it there. the chaos reminded him vaguely of the movie lot and keeping his mind busy was nice

-the transition from “I do what I fucking want” to “yes ma’am right away” was difficult, it got him written up a couple times

-he was so good at his job that his boss couldn’t fire him

-now that he transferred into the store it’s less chaotic but he can have more time with a customer

-he actually likes helping elderly customers, they have so many questions and he has a lot of answers (and patience)

-he gets along pretty well with Shawn and playfully flirts with him. shawn is straight but he still jokes about running away with yakko

-shawn and annalise are very happy together, despite their vast differences. it’s actually annalise’s first healthy relationship

-yakko called annalise “Lisa” the first time he met her but then switched to “Annie bannanie” after seeing the face she made at the nickname

-“I got ᵘᵘᵘᵘʰʰʰʰʰ a venti mango dragonfruit with lemonade for ANNIE BANNANIE”

-annalise doesn’t really like teenagers but her education in psychology is changing that. yakko changed that too. she took it upon herself to keep tabs on him when he first started working at target. now they’re good friends.

-its still 2 years away but she’s planning things for yakkos 21st birthday

-when the 2 younger sibs started school they texted each other during class to make sure they were okay

-wakko immediately wanted to join orchestra, playing violin, naturally

-he met charlie in this class, she plays the flute. wakko noticed her after she let out a well timed belch after a piece

-wakko met astro in algebra 2. they both have an interest in a particular band and bonded over that

-charlie and astro share classes together and that’s how they know each other

-despite his grades, wakko adapted really well to going to school. as stated in the main fic, school becomes his escape from home when things are hard

-dot, on the other hand, is not such a big fan. classes are boring and her teachers are mean.

-however dance class is fun, and she got to participate in the homecoming parade, and that’s where she met chessie, who also took dance

-dot also adores her dance teacher, miss mercer (it’s my other oc, aria uwu)(idk if y’all will ever meet her tho)

-miss mercer can pass off as a student she looks so young and shes short af, but shes really cool and youthful and you can tell she loves her job, and that’s why dot loves her

-dot makes sure to stand in the very front of the class when they’re doing warm ups and learning new routines for the winter recital

-the winter recital was really exciting, dot got to stand in the front for her class’s dance and she heard her brothers cheering for her from the audience

-miss Mercer told dot that she has potential to join the dance team, and you bet your patootie she’s gonna audition at the end of the year

✨and now some hc’s for my oc’s, annalise and bella✨

-they each have their own respective fics,,,,,i created them for other fandoms 😅 bellas origin story is here, and annalises is here 🙂

-you don’t have to read them but both fics exist in the same universe, and it’s different from the one in this fic!

-anyways (pt2)

-annalise doesn’t really talk to her parents. she’ll see them on their birthdays and holidays but overall,,,,meh

-Bella hadn’t spoken to any of her relatives in years,,,,it’s a sensitive topic

-while bella isn’t an alt girl, she does follow the colorful hair/bold makeup/gamer boyfriend trope ☺️ (and if you peeped at her origin story [third installment] you know Who that bf is)

-annalise is a goth but her bf is “normal” bc that’s the relationship dynamic she saw growing up. so it stuck with her.

-she is the one who introduced dot to little mix, but Bella introduced annalise to them 🤣 you think a goth is gonna find a pop group on her own??

-oh and ann n bella are bisexual 🥰 and yakko is too 💖💜💙

-anyways ann and yakko try to get their lunch breaks at the same time to hang out

-Annalise has picked up the little ones from school a couple times

✨and now thing that were originally supposed to happen but didn’t✨

-in chapter 6 when it’s mentioned that dot spent the night with annalise while wakko was in the hospital?? yeah there was supposed to be a deep, profound, but nice conversation between them but a bitch fuckin forgot the dialogue 🙃

-I was originally going to have Ann’s n Bella’s roles swapped in this fic. Bella was going to be the Human Best Friend to yakko. she’s quiet and he’s loud and it would have been quite the dynamic

-I don’t know what happened tbh. I think Annie bannanie popped into my head first.

-this fic was supposed to take place around october or november but I knew I wanted dot’s birthday in there somewhere AND i wanted her star sign to be aries so it just ended up being late march

-and bc of that she’s accidentally a year older than I planned. so she is one year apart from wakko and 4 years from yakko. oopsie whoopsie

-and finally, the one I’m most 😤 abt bc I’m a dumbass who FORGOT TO WRITE IT IN

-in chapter 12 when yakko comes home he was meant to dig thru the cabinet n eat goldfish crackers (iykyk)

[shadowtongued]

REPOST  ||  DO  NOT  REBLOG !

tagged  by:    @offtrails !! thank you! ♥ tagging:  @guthixblessed / @gunssmoke/ @lxgatus / @amortean / @voidfrosts / @bellecosebabe / @exorcieyes / @phantombs  / @pcplarstreet / @psychiatriae / @jyargal / @pontifex-maximus-of-zaros / @vin-robles i am REEEEEEALLY wretched at tagging people, steal it. please. 

𝟎𝟏 .   ALIAS   /   NAME :    channy. C. local tea hag.

𝟎𝟐 .   BIRTHDAY :   july 21st, ‘92. old and crunchy when i bend over.

𝟎𝟑 .   ZODIAC :    cancer-leo cusp and love-hatin’ it.

𝟎𝟒 .   HEIGHT :    5′7

𝟎𝟓 .   HOBBIES :    sleeping. making tea and coffee. aimlessly roaming in MMORPGS. more sleeping. collecting stickers, enamel pins, and washi tape like it’s an addiction. sometimes drawing. living a fringe existence as a cryptid.

𝟎𝟔 .   FAVORITE COLOR :    black.

𝟎𝟕 .   FAVORITE BOOK :    oh that’s hard. anything neil gaiman or chuck palahniuk, i guess.

𝟎𝟖 .   LAST SONG :    bitter and sick - one two

𝟎𝟗 .   LAST   FILM   /   SHOW :    rocketman (for the third fucking time)

𝟏𝟎 .   INSPIRATION :   psych horror. bad guys you love to hate because they are eerie and charming and you wish you had the balls to go feral like them. starless nights. crowded shelves of junk. villain shipping. stubbing your toe as you walk back to your desk. reading or watching something so good you have to stop everything note it down as an idea.

𝟏𝟏 .   STORY BEHIND :   shadowtongued: infomercial trying to sell you gold voice: i love trash. no, really, i hated sliske when i first saw him, mainly bc i did the quests out of order after blowing the dust off my middle school account. the more i got into the story i realized i loved him with every greasy black word that came out of his mouth. i hated what they did to him, turning him from a bootleg ‘burn the world for the lulz’ joker and decided to turn him back into the eerie, unblinking enigma pre-kindred spirits, before he became comic relief. my biggest inspiration for him still is hanni.bal le.cter (not the fuckin’ show, the books/og movies). cold, calculating, too charming, able to pick out lies and cover his tracks, overflowing in elegance. your friend one moment, tearing you down the next with things he’s noticed about you. that shit hot. 👌 👀 i don’t say this often, but yeah, he’s kinda mine now jagex.

[himbowelsh]

Pls Hoosier on Valentine's list!

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! ) 

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

He doesn’t, if he can help it. Unfortunately, Hoosier’s a bigger softie than he likes to admit. His affection shows itself through small gestures   ---   a blanket tucked around someone’s shoulders, food shared, limbs resting casually against each other during idle moments. If Hoosier’s willing to go out of his way for someone, even a little bit, then they matter to him. His smile could make flowers grow, so being on the receiving end of it tends to send the people he cares about a clear message.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

Absolutely not a bouquet man. Doesn’t trust flowers, doesn’t know how they work, and is not inclined to find out.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Abso-fuckin-lutely. Hoosier would shank a man for some cherry cordials.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

He prefers to split the bill on any dates, because he’s cheap economically responsible like that. Hoosier’s ideal date wouldn’t involve paying at all; he’d have a great time doing something on just the right side of illegal, like sneaking into a movie (makes the cinema experience 10x more fun) or loitering in a potentially dangerous place. Coffee dates are pretentious, but he really likes coffee, so sometimes you’ve gotta take the good with the bad. He’d love to go to an animal shelter and, like, play with the dogs...  Hoosier’s not a hard person to take out, and he’s satisfied doing pretty much anything, so long as it’s not too boring.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

what the hell is a hug   He doesn’t love them  ---  mostly because he’s been on the receiving end of too many of Chuckler’s post-workout sweaty bear hugs, and that’s something you never recover from. Hoosier’s particular about physical affection, unless it’s from someone he really considers His People  ---  even with his closest friends, he can be weird about hugs, though he’ll make allowances for his little siblings. He’s not a hugger himself.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

He doesn’t, because it’s a lot of effort, and frankly he just can’t be assed. Hoosier doesn’t do charming small-talk; he’s not going to wine and dine someone he’s just interested in taking to bed. If he wants more than that, well...  he doesn’t even know how to go about it, so they better appreciate the drinks he’s willing to pay for. The other partner’s got to carry the conversation, because Hoosier can’t make small talk to save his life. His good looks and bluntness tend to carry him far enough  ---  as far as the bedroom.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He really doesn’t try that hard. The sort of person to literally ask outright, “what do you want?” a week before a birthday...  then, to his credit, he goes out and tracks the thing down. (Leckie once gave him a really obscure book title, just to see what would happen. Hoosier turned up with it. The book had been out of print of years. This was a first-edition copy. No one knows where he got it, how, or if it was obtained legally.)

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He’s...  slow because the idea scares him. Hoosier and intimacy...  do not mix. On a physical level, sure, but emotionally? He’s gonna glower that idea into submission and keep any pesky feelings that bubble up down for as long as possible. Hoosier does not love the idea of opening himself up to getting hurt, and doesn’t think he’s very suited for romance, so he’d just...  rather not.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Like we just said! Emotional intimacy is a Big Yikes for him! Anyone would be lucky to get an “I love you” out of him once. He’s got to be either very drunk or very sleepy to say it out loud  ---   both times are when he’s at his softest.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Oh yeah. Hoosier can be...  territorial when it comes to the people he loves. He passionately dislikes anyone getting too close to his partner; there’s being friendly, and then there’s being more, and he’s got strong instincts for when something’s more than friendly. Hoosier makes up for it by being bitchier than usual, glowering at them and being a bit more physical with his partner. He’s rarely one for PDA, but Jealous Hoosier has some points to make.

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

He’s a very physical kisser, almost taking ownership of his partner through his lips; Hoosier Smith doesn’t kiss to play around. Hands on the ass, the thighs, gripping the hips as he grinds slightly against them; each breath seems to ripple between the two of them, a shared convulsion, before Hoosier goes right back in for more. He’s a hungry kisser, and a little feral about it  ---  bruises will be left along his partner’s neck, and their lips may be sore for days afterwards, but they way Hoosier leaves them seeing stars makes it all worth it.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He’s very fond of his little siblings, and very affectionate with them  ---  way more than anyone’s used to seeing out of him. Hoosier’s got Big Brother Instincts, even they don’t rear their head that often. He loves his mom and (very old, possibly immortal) grandparents; he’s very devoted to his friends, no matter how he rolls his eyes at Chuckler and Runner’s chaos or bitches at Leckie’s pretentiousness. That’s the thing about Hoosier  ---   he doesn’t love a lot of people, but the people he does love, he wants to keep.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Night, because he’s never up in the damn morning. Why would someone want to do things before 10am? Not this man. Anything that needs to get done can be done at midnight, or not at all.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

He alternates between fierce and teasing, but Hoosier is very, very determined. God, does he love his partner’s reactions...  and he savors them, leading them along for as long as possible, dragging every encounter out until the end. Hoosier’s in no rush to finish; honestly, he has a bit of trouble finishing without his partner, and it’s usually seeing them go over the edge first that gets him there. He’s rough, rougher than he means to be at times; sex is the most energy he’ll ever expend at a given moment, and he turns it into a full-on workout, both parties slick with sweat by the end of it. Sometimes, he’ll just put his mouth to task, trailing it slowly along his partner’s body  ---  sucking kisses into their chest, their stomach, their hips, all the way to their thighs and what lies beyond.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

Yes. Very succinct. To the point. Knows what the hell he’s saying. Fine with words, thanks.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

Someone who doesn’t get on his last damn nerve. Hoosier would do well with a partner who goes with the flow  ---  probably someone more extroverted than him, but who really doesn’t demand much or tax his energy when he needs to just destress. He’d do best with someone low-maintenance. (Too bad the high-maintenance people are so damn attractive.) They have to love animals; they have to be able to keep things neat, because he hates a messy house; he’s fine with almost any quirk they might have, so long as they put up with his in return. He loves people who can sing...  and people who laugh at their own jokes really shouldn’t be as attractive as they are.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’d ask as soon as he comes to terms with the idea...  which’ll take a while, not gonna lie. His partner asking first would completely take Hoosier by surprise. He wouldn’t be expecting it, wouldn’t know what to do with it, and his off-the-cuff answer would be, “what the fuck”.  Promising omen of marital bliss right there.

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Definitely on the cynical side. He’s...  afraid of romance, a little bit, and definitely doesn’t imagine himself as anybody’s Prince Charming.

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

He didn’t, really. Little Bill Smith had way more important things on his mind, like taking long naps, stealing cookies, and hiding in places where his mama couldn’t find him. Bigger priorities on his mind.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

...  nah, probably not. It’s not something he gives a lot of thought to, because thinking about love in general leaves him feeling half-starved and irritated. True love...  well, to be honest, he’s got no clue what it is.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

...  let’s say he hasn’t and call it even. He’s not gonna talk about it.  (He hasn’t, but he’s been on the cusp of loving people who didn’t love him back. Caution is learned; if you go to the edge of a cliff and almost fall off, you’re in no hurry to dance on that edge again. He learned to fear love without ever feeling the full sting of rejection, cause he’s just proactive like that.)

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

A complete waste of time, unless there’s chocolate involved. Chocolate for him. Get him chocolate, please.

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

Mmm. I mean. He’s not going to not get married, if the opportunity arises, but it’s also, like...  a lot of effort, everybody makes a big deal out of it, it costs a lot of money, and, like...  if all his siblings get hitched, does his Mama really need him to, too? (If Hoosier gets to the point where he’s head-over-heels in love with someone, enough to want to spend his life with ‘em, yeah, he’ll get married. But he’s prefer a quiet ceremony, no muss or fuss, to a big white wedding.)

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

Absolutely never... unless he’s in the mood. An arm tucked around his partner’s chest or waist, and a muttered “darlin’” against the side of their neck, is Hoosier-speak for ‘let’s get someplace private now, before I take my pants off right here.’

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

In, like, the laziest way possible. He’s perfectly willing to sit back and watch the fireworks, glowering as some fool gets bolder and bolder with the person he cares about...  but he’s not apathetic, he’s waiting. As soon as the bastard crosses a line, Hoosier’s on his feet and swinging. He doesn’t say anything; he just puts an end to the situation, with a few well-placed hits. Cross Hoosier Smith’s people at your own risk.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

...  do you really want to know the answer to this question? It’s...  a lot. Many people. An amount that should maybe concern him. He couldn’t count if he tried, but the number is probably in the double digits. (How? He literally never goes out! Hoosier’s got ways, okay. When he feels like having sex, he will find someone willing and eager. It’s never a challenge to convince them. The job gets done.) Don’t ask, cause he’ll just smirk and say nothing.