#go watch Singing in the Rain instead

[lady-grace-pens]

I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s for the first time this morning and I can’t stop thinking about how much I hated it. I can’t figure out why. But I also watched the first part of Barry Lyndon and I’m really into it so there’s that too

Rant in tags because I have thoughts and opinions

[pseudowho]

"--and this is the staffroom," Gojo sing-songed, swinging open the door on your First Day Tour, with you a few steps behind him, "--ah! And that's Nanamin. Say hi, Nanamin!"

A tall, suited blond man looked up from his spot on the sofa as you peered in; at first, he simply nodded to you, disinterested. Then, Gojo spoke again while leading you out.

"--he's not very fun, don't worry-- no sense of humour."

Your final glimpse as the door closed, was of the blond man's irritated scowl.

It was true; Kento clearly didn't make people laugh, for he was either too mean or too subtle to be funny. This was the case, at least, until you. And you had no idea what your laughter did to him.

You had formed an alliance of respect, an easy bond that would have been camaraderie if not for Kento's standoffishness. You felt him hover nearby on joint missions, close enough to lunge to your rescue, but far enough that he could resist your magnetism.

Talking, and surveying the abandoned school, you spoke aloud as you walked down the stairs.

"So perhaps I'll take the East Wing, and you take the We--ergh!"

You reeled back, having walked headfirst into a buckled ceiling. Kento stepped to your aid, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, and lifting your chin to look at your forehead. He huffed, barely a puff of breath through his nose, wiping dust from your forehead before grumbling.

"You'll be alright. Not much in there, anyway."

You burst into laughter, and Kento electrified, absolutely rigid. You patted his chest, still giggling as you walked away, cooing back over your shoulder in a way that utterly melted him.

"So mean."

You soon learned that Nanami Kento was possibly the funniest man at Jujutsu High. Dry and unforgiving in a way that made your brittle colleagues crumble, you found yourself, instead, choking back laughter every time he crippled one with another savage put-down.

When Yuuji arrived late to a mission, Kento stepped over to him and, poe-faced, pulled up his shirtsleeve to show Yuuji his wrist.

"This," Kento hummed, flat, "is a watch. You can buy one at any good supermarket."

When a waiter slopped coffee over Kento's shoulder, Kento dabbed at it to the waiter's frantic, apologetic bowing. Kento raised a placating hand and insisted to the confused waiter.

"It's alright. I never liked this suit anyway."

When you stood at the staffroom window with him, watching a monsoon in companionable silence, Kento murmured over the rim of his mug.

"Lovely day."

He had timed it just-so, and barely concealed his lopsided smirk when you choked on your tea. Shoko walked in, drenched, looking at you and Kento in dismay. You coughed, opening your mouth to speak, but Kento got there first, firing shots.

"Is it raining?"

Shoko scoffed, sputtering, while you buckled against the windowsill.

Kento grabbed a hand towel and an umbrella, heading to the door. As Shoko reached for the towel, Kento pressed the umbrella into her hands instead, his expression flat, but his voice edged with a feral pleasure that made you come undone.

"You'll need this."

Kento's meanness was tempered only by his self-deprecation, and when you took as good as you gave, you felt his icey facade melt away completely, revealing such warmth.

It was no wonder you were drawn to each other, when the only reason neither of you laughed together, was because you were in a constant stand-off for who could remain poe-faced the longest. Kento always won.

Still, you felt the need to break him; you had cracked smiles, or the occasional chuckle out of him, but nothing more. You knew nothing more than the truest irony would do it.

The day came; you arrived, to your usual staffroom rendezvous, covered in blood. Kento paled, abandoning his book to rise immediately and reach you in three long strides.

"--you're hurt-- we'll go to Sho--"

"Kento. Stop. It's not my blood-- it's Gojo's."

Kento did a double-take, his eyes narrowing in disbelief, so you explained.

"Gojo invited himself to teach me about Curses that are 'above my paygrade', so he took me to one. I told him this Curse was clearly more powerful than it looked, and Gojo told me to step back so he could handle it. Said he'd even do it without his Infinity on. So I stepped back."

Kento's nose flared, barely perceptible.

"...and?"

You took a deep breath. "So, Gojo has a broken nose--"

Kento broke down with a wheeze, before bursting into a rich, deep rolling laughter that split the clouds with sun. His hands clasped the windowsill, his eyes crinkled, and his shoulders shook with wicked, throaty mirth.

You felt yourself becoming drunk off him, utterly intoxicated by his laughter. Kento couldn't stop himself, trembling with schadenfreude to the point of indecency.

Finally, sighing and straightening as if exhausted, Kento wiped his eyes with the side of his finger, and smiled at you with sweet adoration. Laughter still threatened to break through as he begged you.

"Would you-- would you like to go out for dinner? With me?"

You paused, your expression pained.

"Ah...no. No, thank you."

Kento froze, his face beginning to fall. You looked down at yourself, and announced, still deadpan.

"It's just-- I'm covered in blood, you see--"

That sent Kento over the edge again.

You remained content throughout the years of your marriage, for Nanami Kento to be viewed by others as boring and humourless. You found yourself jealously greedy of his rare laughter, anyway.

After marriage, you viewed it as the highest badge of honour to make him laugh like that while he was buried inside you.

[yandere-daze]

I thought it was high time that I finally wrote something for this man and this idea was stuck in my head for days. I hope you enjoy! <3

gn reader

2.3k words

cw yandere, obsessive behaviour, hypnotizing siren song, manipulation

Yandere! Siren! Sunday x Sailor! Reader

You weren´t supposed to be anything more than an easy prey. A human led astray by his enchanting tunes like any other, only to be torn apart once within reach.

You were a simple sailor sailing the deep waters of the ocean with your small crew. For what purpose? Sunday wasn´t quite sure and he didn´t really care to know. All he yearned for was sinking his claws into your vulnerable flesh as he dragged you to the bottom of the ocean.

You see, Sunday was a siren, a hunter in the image of a beautiful young man with grey hair and enchanting golden eyes. Were it not for his singing voice, a deep gaze into his radiant eyes would be enough to tempt any poor fool into his waiting arms. Yet his voice, oh his voice, its heavenly sound masking his dark intentions.

Within his lifetime, Sunday has lured many unfortunate sailors to their demise though, in recent times, fewer and fewer boats have delved through the waters he called his home. From what he had witnessed being whispered onboard, tales of cunning and vicious sirens roaming these waters have reached the mainland, causing many to steer clear and avoid this place.

This naturally annoyed Sunday, for the flesh of humans was what he sustained himself with. This fact only increased his determination when after quite a long while of waiting for a sign of life, a boat had finally lost its way into his domain again. Sunday had been hungry for way too long now, he couldn´t let this stroke of luck go to waste.

So certain that he would finally claim his prey again, he decided to first spy on the passengers of the boat before making his move. It was important for him to know the routines and habits of the sailors if he wanted to catch them alone to entice them to run into their doom.

As a siren, Sunday was more powerful than an average human but even he wouldn´t be able to fight off several sailors if he were to try and hypnotize someone in broad daylight. He couldn´t risk the crew becoming aware of his presence and leaving, he couldn´t go on without another meal again.

And so, he secretly started spying on the passengers of the small boat, staring at them from behind a rock and making sure to keep his tail concealed within the water. He watched everyone go along with their days on board the ship when something unexpected happened.

He saw you, stepping away from the rest of the crew to stand near the edge of the boat, a smile on your face as you let the sun shine on your face. Without even realizing it, you had stepped close to where Sunday had gone to hide. You were so close, almost within arm´s reach. For a moment, Sunday deliberated if this was his chance to strike.

With you separated from the rest of the crew like this, it would be a simple thing indeed to lure you into the waters where you would disappear forever.

But just as he thought this, he stopped in his tracks as he watched your carefree smile, suddenly becoming enchanted by the way the light of the sun rained upon your skin. For lack of a better word, your presence at that very moment was mesmerizing and Sunday felt warm inside as if the rays of the sun were descending on him instead.

And then, for a moment, Sunday almost felt his heart stop for then you opened your mouth and started, he almost couldn´t believe it, singing.

There you were, practically within the jaws of a predator, and letting your soul rejoice in song so carelessly. And yet, within your naivety, Sunday couldn´t help but feel at peace. Your song rang out across the lonely waters, unaware that your secret audience was becoming more and more enchanted by you by the second.

Your singing, Sunday couldn´t quite describe it. It sounded nothing like his own singing, which was beautiful and yet felt intrinsically wrong somehow. Your song was nothing like that. It might have not been as pretty or practiced as his own singing, but yet it managed to ring true within his heart. Your song felt earnest and real, untainted and uncorrupted by malice. Within seconds, you had captured his attention and heart, yet you were completely unaware that he was even present.

In an ironic twist of fate, Sunday felt himself being pulled towards you as if touched by magic, an ardent longing for you deep within his chest. It was as if you were the siren calling out to him, beckoning him closer like a lovesick sailor lost at sea, yet Sunday was sure that instead of a sudden demise, he would find true salvation within your arms. With the way you were holding out your arms, he could almost imagine you wrapping them around his body in a lover´s embrace, pulling him so close as if you would never let go of him again.

Because he knows that´s what he would do if he finally had his beloved in his arms. For only a fool would ever let go of the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. It filled him all at once, this desire to have you for his own, to make you his dearest mate.

You were radiant and joyful in a way he had never seen before and he couldn´t bear the thought of letting you slip away from him.

And from the desperate yearning he could so clearly hear in your song dedicated to just him, he knew that you must feel the same way. You were just waiting, begging to be taken away by him. Why else would you walk so close to him, all on your own and profess all of your feelings like this? Sunday now knew that this meeting was fated to happen and he would be sure not to waste it.

He had been watching you closely for the past few days along with the other sailors aboard the ship and he saw how the other crew members acted around you. He had thought nothing of it back then but now boiling jealousy filled his being as he remembered how chummy they had been acting with you. How they had laughed and joked around with you so easily, how they had thrown their arms around you and sang cheery tunes beneath the starry sky.

He especially detested that one scoundrel that had dared to kiss your cheek so invasively. How dare they treat you like this? How dare they lay their filthy hands on you when your beauty was meant for solely him to treasure? But not to worry, Sunday would finally bring you home and keep you safe.

He understood your surprise when he finally emerged from his hiding spot and started swimming towards you. You looked so pitiful with your body shaking and your eyes growing wide when you saw his shimmering white mermaid tail. You poor thing must be frightened out of your mind because of all these stories you were told about his kind but do not be afraid! Sunday would never hurt you like this.

You were special to him, you just needed to allow him to show you that. You backing away from the railing, backing away from him, just wouldn´t do.

"Darling, there is no reason to be afraid, I´m not here to hurt you, do not let their horrid tales corrupt your thoughts. I am here to finally take you home!" He reached out his hands to you, wishing for you to jump into them and accept his love willingly yet he could only click his tongue in disappointment when instead, you took another step back.

"D-don´t come any closer!", you shouted out, breaking the poor siren´s heart in the process. How it hurt him to see you so frightened that you would turn your soulmate away. But no matter, he was prepared to take matters into his own hands and nudge you towards your own happy ending. You just needed a little bit of convincing.

"My darling, please listen to me! You and me, I know we were meant to be! So please don´t resist this, alright?", he hummed gently, his voice almost pitiful while begging you to hear him out.

You would have even felt sympathy for him if you weren´t acutely aware that you were facing a dangerous predator. There was no doubt in your mind that this was a siren and you needed to get away from there fast.

But unfortunately for you, you weren´t quick enough for as soon as you had gathered your resolve, Sunday´s ethereal singing voice had swiftly broken it down.

Suddenly, all your previous thoughts about him being a danger to stay away from evaporated, leaving you confused as to why you ever wanted to run away from him. There was nothing dangerous about him, was there?

Instead, your mind was now being filled with pleasant images of you and the siren spending time together, of him holding you close protectively, of him swearing his eternal love and kissing you. All of a sudden, you felt warm all over as you gazed deep into Sunday´s eyes and you knew that he was the one that was meant for you.

Slowly, one step at a time, you walked closer to the edge of the boat again, where Sunday was happily holding out his hands for you to take, eagerly grasping at air as if to usher you even closer.

And you were all too eager to follow his demands as a sugary sweet melody droned on and on in your ears, overwhelming you with feelings of everlasting love and devotion.

"That´s it, darling. Come closer. It´s only a few more steps.", he urged you on, almost desperately as you almost came into touching range. It was only a few more moments until he could finally have you in his arms. And once he did, he would never allow you to leave him again. Not that you would be able to underwater.

Voices were picking up in the background, quickly getting closer and Sunday realized that your crew must have picked up on what was happening.

"Come here quickly, darling!", he shouted, his voice growing more urgent and desperate the closer the booming voices got.

And you did as he said, quickening your steps towards him with a lovesick smile on your face.

"I´m almost there, my love", you said and Sunday´s heart almost burst at the sweet tone you took with him. He knew you were currently under the influence of his siren song but he strongly wanted to believe that the love you felt for him was real. Why else would you too be looking at him so full of yearning?

"Someone, quick! Grab on to them! That siren is trying to lead them to their death!", a gruff voice yells from the back with several more footsteps scrambling quickly behind. They were advancing on you fast and Sunday knew he was almost out of time as one quickly ran up to you.

"No, no, no! Don´t touch them! They´re mine! Don´t ruin this for me!", he yelled out in anger, his eyes a furious storm as they glared at the person trying to get a hold of you. He couldn´t fail so close to the end. How dare they accuse him of trying to harm you?!

"Please, you need to come to your senses!", the sailors try to reason with you but it´s almost like you can´t even register what they say.

" I need to meet with my love, he´s waiting for me.", you say, still smiling as you step to the very edge of the boat, looking down at a Sunday growing more and more manic by the second.

"Jump into my arms, darling! Accept my love and be mine forever!", the siren calls out to you as a crew member grabs into your arms, trying to pull you back.

"Don´t listen to him! Please, don´t do as he says!"

You struggle violently against the hold, kicking and screaming, demanding to be let go.

"No, you can´t separate me from my love, let me go! I need to be by his side!", you scream and with an especially harsh kick, the sailor lets go of you for a moment, leaving you with enough time to take the final step and jump right into your demise.

Sunday gently catches you in his arms, a lovesick smile on his face as he finally gets to hold you like he wanted to. You´re finally all his and there´s nothing that can be done about it anymore.

"I´m so happy you chose me, darling. We´re going to be so happy together. I´ll take such good care of you. No one else is ever going to touch you again.", he whispers into your ear and you can´t help but giggle joyfully at the prospect, your mind singing with affection, drowning out the growing panic within you.

But what is there to be afraid of? You´re finally united with the love of your life and nothing will ever separate you again.

Sunday holds you firmly as he quickly swims away from the boat, leaving your panicked crewmates behind.

Now that he finally has you, he will make sure that you´ll grow to love him even without his song. He knows that deep down, you love him just as much as he does you, you´ll just need a little bit of time to adjust to your new life underwater. He knows of a very beautiful underwater cave that he can keep you in until you grow more accustomed to your new life with him. Down there, you´ll never be able to escape his grasp again.

You will be his forever, for that is the consequence of putting him under a spell like you has.

And then he takes you with him to the very depths of the sea, never to be seen again.

[ourfatherwhoartinhell]

My 67 year old mother watched RHRN for the first time last night. I thought I would share some gems that came outta that:

Her: "He doesn't actually... that's not how he actually talks is it?" Me: "No no. Just imagine a Swedish dude, speaking English, pretending to be Italian." Her: "Oh, so that's why he sounds annoying. Ok!"

Her: "....is he gay?" Me: "No, he's married and has kids." Her: "Do his kids know what he does for a living? Can you imagine at school: 'My dads a firefighter, my dad's a doctor, my dad's a paramedic.. my dad's a satanic cult leader!' "

More below the cut!

*After If You Have Ghosts* Her: "Ok, that song was reaaaaalllyy pretty. I really liked that. He did a really good job." Me: "You hated it when I played it before." Her: "Yeah well... I don't actually like Ghost, so."

Her: "I know that one is Mountain, and there's a Swiss, and a Rain... cause every time I open the fridge to make a sandwich, or it's raining outside I'm reminded." Me: "I'm so proud. You're only missing the two guitarists." (She only likes the ghouls... don't come for me) Her: *Very confidently* "Alpha and Omega!" Me: "Um..." Her, laughing: "...no? Wrong era?" Me: "Phan–" Her: "PHANTOM! And the angry one I can never remember."

*Copia standing next to Dew* Her: Wow, he's really small isn't he? Me: Who? Dew or Copia cause either one would be an accurate observation.

Her: "Is he wearing contacts?" Me: "Yeah just the one, the white one." Her: "I just noticed." Me: "........... you JUST noticed?!" Her: "Only cause it's up close!" Me: "I hate to blow your mind.... but ALL the Papa's have a white eye. Even Nihil (her fav)" Her: "Really 👀 ?!"

Her: "Huh..." Me: "What?" Her: "I just noticed they have horns."

Her: "I think his pants are my favourite part about him." Me: "You just like the crotch corset." Her: "Nooo.... He has a nice ass too." *moments later* Her: "Why can't the ghouls have tight pants?!"

Her: "Don't their helmets ever fall off? Y'know when they start gettin into it, do they ever just 'whoops!' "

Her: *Sitting on the couch, humming, dancing and tapping her foot to Spillways* Me: I thought you didn't like Ghost?? Her: *Immediately stops* Well... y'know *starts dancing again and singing the correct lyrics*

Her: "Thats the end? They're not going to do right here, right now?" Me: "You mean Square Hammer?" Her: "Yeah the right here, right now song. Whatever it's actually called." Me: "When have you ever heard of a band not doing an encore?" Her: "Oh good. I was about to get upset. I love that song!"

*after the post credits scene* Her: "Wait, so thats it? Do we know who the new Papa is?" Me: "No! Thats the worst part about it!" Her: "Maybe it'll be a Mama instead" Me: *dies of laughter*

--- Anyways, Ghesties please protect my mum. She's trying lol If I can think of more moments from last night, I will add them!

[tojisun]

(quietly) oh god thinking about kyle falling in love with his new neighbour.

How he was just going to crack open a window to let the breeze in only to stop at the sight of his neighbour and her daughter dancing in the rain, twin smiles tugging at their lips as they hop around in their front lawn, feet digging into the muddy parts of their grass garden, letting the water splash out.

Laughter trickles from the two, and it tickles Kyle’s ears, filling him up with such longing he can’t even put a proper name to it.

She is the single mother who moved from another country.

Why she settled in this little suburb, Kyle doesn’t know but he’s thankful of her because there are times when he forgets about many things—himself, for one; the touch of soft blankets and the feel of warm water, for another—but somehow he always finds himself snapping back to his body at seeing her.

At hearing her.

She is beautiful. She is beyond beautiful. She is—

God, how can anyone have that much fortitude and strength and love? How can anyone see the world so optimistically; so full of wonder?

“Oh, you,” she’d murmured, shy, when Kyle had told her of his thoughts, and he watched as her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks at her quiet chuckle.

Kyle’s throat had gone parched—he has never felt this type of yearning before; one that makes him full even when he’s yet to eat anything. One that lulls him to a quiet sleep like his mind and his body have finally found their centre of gravity; like they’re no longer unyielding nor unforgiving. But kind.

Filling. Wondrous.

“It’s because of my little duckling,” she continued, eyes crinkling in her delight. She turned to her snoozing daughter. “I would have been lost without my darling Pen.”

She looked at Kyle then, smiling like he wasn’t just a kind stranger. Like he wasn’t just a nobody.

Kyle stares at the them now, his lips quivering as he watches them dance and splash and giggle to each other. Their laughter sounds like chimes. Like twinkling bells. Like what home sounds.

Kyle stares at them now, wondering if he could ever be part of their family.

(He already is. Have been, for a while now.

Penelope adores Kyle. So much so that she would not stop asking you when could she play agIn with the kind man next door.

She tells you that Kyle is so patient—not in those words, but she tells you that Kyle always asks more about her stories, and asks her who are her friends and which of her collection of toys is her favourite.

And Pen is still too young to understand the word ‘patience’ but she tells you how Kyle is nothing but.

How he never once rejects her tea time invitation, even if the tea is just bottled sweet tea and grocery store cupcakes that you were able buy that week.

How he never once asks why she doesn’t know how to tie her shoelaces, and instead teaches her time and time again. That he never gets snappy even if she keeps forgetting.

She even recounts to you how excited she had been when Kyle showed up for the dad-daughter dance hosted at her school. He’d asked for your permission then, going shy as he stuttered out his, “But I don’t want to impose and you can say no, I swear, and we can just ignore this and—”

“Kyle,” you murmured, your eyes prickling with tears. “I’d be honoured if you were there for Pen.”

He said something to you then. It was a slip of his tongue, clearly something he didn’t want you to hear, and you honoured his wishes but when a man like Kyle—

No.

When Kyle says, “I wish I can be there f’r you too.” What is the natural reaction if not to let him know that he can?

That you want him too?)

(Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He talks funny, like the many others in this new country.

Mama said it’s not nice to say that Mr. Kyle talks funny but Mr. Kyle is not angry. He just laughs with Penny, and says she should hear his best friend, Mr. Johnny, talk.

Penny is told Mr. Johnny sings more than he talks. Penny giggles at the idea of it.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He is warm and he always has toffee in his pocket for Penny.

He also laughs loud, like the one from the belly, and she thinks that his laugh fills their house with how loud it is. Mama said that Mr. Kyle laughs loud so that the monsters under Penny’s bed would leave. Penny cried and said many thanks to Mr. Kyle after that.

Penny likes Mr. Kyle.

He…

He makes mama happy.

Not the way Penny makes mama happy. No one can make mama more happy than Penny could! But he buys her flowers and donuts and- and books! Adults are so weird.

Books are no fun.

Sometimes she wished Mr. Kyle can be her real dad.)

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING HOSHI INCLUDES…. — sfw

• if he ever suspects you or figures out that you’re the mafia whenever y’all play, he would NEVER expose you. he would in fact protect you WITH HIS LIFE. this says a lot about how much he loves you because hoshi would never back down during mafia ever. (poor mingyu :/ he really was innocent all this time.)

• you would probably be the only person capable of successfully dragging him out of the dance studio.

• he would let you squish his cheeks whenever you want (especially when you’re having a bad day.)

• as surprising as it sounds, when y’all are alone, he’s the calm bf and you’re the hyper gf.

• he will NEVER dull your sparkle no matter how bad of a day he’s having.

• when he loves, he loves with EVERYTHING in him.

• dates with him would never be boring. he mainly plans the adventurous ones, choosing to do something like a water park or hiking instead. (he would definitely give you a piggy back ride if you get tired.)

• if he makes a promise with you, he would rather walk through hell barefoot than break it no matter the circumstance. he’s such a dependable lover and always comes through.

• he turns into the softest person whenever you’re having a bad day. he would start talking in a low voice, give you space if needed, but also make sure you’re never suffering alone. your struggles are his and he always lets you know that.

• he’s fine with driving you around everywhere, but be prepared cause he is a super speeder for sure (i know we’ve all seen that one episode of going seventeen.)

• y’all definitely have random dance parties from time to time, especially when y’all are home alone and drinking.

• also, he’s DEFINITELY the type of person who would pull you out of the house to dance under the stars or in the pouring rain. SO ROMANTIC AND CUTESY :’)

• he once ended up winning a tiger plushie for you at the fair before y'all even started dating, and you still have it to this day.

• y'all are for sure dressing up as tigers one year for halloween, he insists.

• he enjoys teaching you dances and always lets you watch as he choreographs. hoshi is constantly wanting your input and praise when he does so.

• he’s oblivious to everything besides when it comes to you.

• he has the habit of hogging the blanket at night. definitely looks like a kicked puppy when you shake him awake to yell at him. he truly doesn’t mean to, it just happens.

• he flaunts you with no fear or shame all over his social media. he dngaf about haters, at the end of the day it’s you that he plans to spend the rest of his life with not them.

• be prepared because he would constantly litter kisses ALL OVER your face no matter the time of day.

• if he had to chose between you or kimchi, he would pick you. that’s saying a lot.

• he will forever be your number one supporter. he is always encouraging you and hyping you up despite what situation you’re in.

• he genuinely thinks you’re the absolute cutest !

• he tells you anything and everything, even if it has nothing to do with him. you definitely know all the practice room secrets.

• if you whip out the government name, he would look at you like a deer in the headlights. don’t scare him like that.

• no matter how bad you are at singing, he would always reassure you that it sounds like music to his ears.

• the pantry would always be stocked with frosted flakes. not because he likes the cereal, but rather just because of the tiger on the box.

• he is always taking random pictures of you, it consists of ninety percent of his camera roll. he REFUSES to delete them.

• he’s speaks of you so fondly and definitely might bring you up in every conversation with people absentmindedly. he loves and admires you so incredibly much.

• he used to tickle you often. he stopped when you accidentally elbowed him in the nose one time and made him bleed.

• if you’re allowed to squish his cheeks, then you have to allow him to boop your nose. it’s an eye for an eye.

• whenever you two argue, it’s rare in which it’s serious. it’s mostly just playful little banters here and there.

• if the arguments are ever serious, it plays in his mind a lot. hoshi treats your heart as if it’s made of glass and the last thing he ever wants to do is make you sad or worse, cry.

• he voices his love like shakespeare to you whenever he’s drunk. hoshi most def becomes a giggly, nervous mess whenever you’re around.

• you know how it’s normally the gf that turns their brain off whenever they’re around their boyfriend? yeah, it’s the opposite way around for you two.

• eye of the tiger would be on full BLAST throughout all hours of the day, he claims it’s his favorite song.

[gilverrwrites]

Some of many (entirely self indulgent) fluffy/domestic Dick Grayson headcanons just because I love him.

He ADORES having a passenger prince/ss, someone to chat to, to point out cute dogs, and to sing along to Spotify with.

However, of the entire family, he is the worst driver.

Damian doesn’t even know how to drive yet, and somehow Dick is still worse.

It's not so bad in the car. He's known to ‘accidentally’ drive above the speed limit, take a few risky sharp turns and whatnot, but that’s about it.

But if you’re ever on the back of a batcycle, hold on for dear life.

He really doesn’t get enough credit for being the family's resident daredevil type.

He’s drifting, doing wheelies WITH NO HANDS.

Of course, he wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t 110% certain of your safety, but if you get scared he will tease.

You’ve gotta be able to stand a certain degree of teasing with Dick.

More often than not he outright does not respond to being called Dick by you. Cute pet names only, please. Dickie at a minimum. “Dick? Whose Dick? I only know Bubba.”

And vice versa, say goodbye to your actual name unless he’s mad at you.

His wardrobe is yours (within reason obviously, can’t have you parading around in his Nightwing suit).

He especially likes seeing you in his boxers and t-shirts, or especially his dress shirts the morning after a fancy event.

But he also raids your wardrobe, does not matter if you’re considerably smaller than him. He’ll wear your tees like crop tops in the summer, and won’t hesitate to squeeze your socks over his feet if he doesn’t have any clean ones.

And unless you do his laundry, or he’s been back to the manor recently, he rarely has clean socks.

Leaves you his cologne bottle if he’s ever has to go away for more than a few nights so you can spray whatever you like to be reminded of him.

Big on PDA, always draping himself on you when you’re out places. Arms around your shoulders on walks, plays footsie with you under tables. Will dance with you in the streets when you’re walking home drunk or kiss you in the rain.

Unless he’s around family, in which case it’s like a switch. Their teasing is relentless, and he doesn’t mind too much when it’s just him, but it really gets under his skin when they make jokes at your expense, even if they don’t mean anything by it.

Not to mention he’s leading by example, he doesn’t wanna see his younger siblings sucking face with anyone up close, so he’s not gonna subject them to watch him do it.

Always says he wants more chill dates where the two of you just relax at home and watch a film or something but that never happens. In the event that he isn’t needed elsewhere he either

Gets touchy 5 minutes in and you spend the night doing it instead.

Complains that you need a very specific type of snack or something, and takes you shopping at the only supermarket at does it, then there’s a great fast food joint you’ve gotta try, oh and he knows a rooftop nearby that has a great view you have to let him show you, come on.

He’s restless!

The only times your stay-at-home and chill dates succeed are when gaming is involved. Keep his hands and brain occupied.

Does not enjoy cleaning or cooking, but he’s not completely incapable. He often plays up his ‘inability to cook’ at home cause he knows the responsibility of cooking for everyone will fall on him should Alfred be unable/away, and god knows he’s a people pleaser. He won’t say no, so prevent them from asking.

He’ll cook for you though, it’s nothing special but he’ll do it.

Chores often take twice as long with him around because he’s always getting distracted dancing to the radio with you, or just touching you, he can't help it, you’re just so great, you’re a perfect little domestic team together.

[demon-kumo]

𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐱𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

➤ 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐫, 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧.

➤ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

➤ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡-𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always means what he said when he confessed where you both first met. Gently kissing you to prove he means what he says.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always kisses your lips with softness before he goes on a dangerous mission. Promising to return to you.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always helps you wash the dishes and places foam against your nose with a small laugh.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who blocks you from paying and humors you by telling you he will let you pay next time. Though he never does let you.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman that always gives you his coat when the rain makes it’s unexpected visit.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always offers his hand to dance with you. He who smirks as his face become close as he dips, kissing your red dusted cheek.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who helps his woman unpack her baggage, rubbing your back and hugs you close as you cry in his chest.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who would kill anyone who dares to even harm a hair on your pretty head. Two words and a name, will happily take care of it for you.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who keeps no secrets from you. He spills his past and holds his breath when you hug and tell him that you still love him.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who takes you out and doesn’t care if you pout as he buys you all that you could ever desire.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who never judges and instead tries news things with you. You who sings into an air mic in the living room and he who laughs as he drops his coat and skids on the carpet playing the air guitar just to make you happy.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who finds himself hugging you from behind with a grin as he watches you bake a cake.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always holds the door for you and pulls back you chair. He who acts so chivalrous just for a kiss.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who helps you chose an outfit and helps with hair, but always says you look your best with your natural beauty.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who likes to take you on midnight rides on his bike on the days you can’t sleep. Smiling as you hug him close.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who prepares a romantic bath for the both of you and looks away as you strip just in case you feel uncomfortable.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who always asks for consent before going any further. Softly hugging you as he places his forehead against yours as you nod making him push you back against the bed.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who gives you the best after care but makes no effort to hide the marks you had given him. Smirking as he claims his want to show off how much you love him.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who secretly measures your ring size and before he comes home he looks at rings that he one day wants to sit on your finger.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who feels a tear in his eyes as he recited his speech before kneeling down on his knee. Smiling and gives you passionate kiss when you yelled yes.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who holds your hand as he says his vows, a look full of love and adoration as he looks at you with love. Removes your veil and kisses like the day he confessed.

Chuuya Nakahara, a gentleman who will never stop loving you and lives to be your loyal lover and husband. He who lives and can’t live without you, who makes him happy. Who makes him feel human.

This has been in my drafts for so fucking long! Finally posted it! Honestly I believe that Chuuya would be such a gentlemen, like no contest - Kumo

[just-mya-writing]

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” ~ South Park Boys

I was in the middle of writing something completely different when this idea hit me like a metal bat. I will not offer an explanation, but I will make this a series. I’m half sorry

SP boys x gn!reader

Stan

It’s a cold, rainy night and the two of you are lounging lazily on his couch

you were meant to go home a little over two hours ago, but Stan’s car is practically frozen and broke down on the way to work yesterday and you refuse to walk back in the freezing rain

instead, you and your boyfriend were content cuddling together, enjoying each others company

resting on his chest, you could hear his steady heartbeat, lulling you into a sense of security and safety

sighing through your nose, you snuggled up closer to Stan as he tightened his grip around your waist while his other hand scrolled endlessly on YouTube shorts

he’s watching Minecraft videos

looking up at him, you softly break the comfortable silence

“hey Stan...?”

“hm?” he looks away from his phone, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he pressed them against the top of your head

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

he’s silent 

stunned

he expected you to say something cute or cheesy, not something a middle school girl would ask her boyfriend 

“...yes.”

“you hesitated” you pointed out, sitting up slightly 

“well. I had, uh, had to...to think about it first”  he stuttered, trying to figure out what you want to hear

“you had to think about if you love me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to hold back a smile

“I do! I love you, even if you were a worm!” his panicked voice squeaked out, pulling you closer to him so your face was burred in the crock of his neck  

he smiled when he felt you giggle against his skin

“no matter what or where you are, I’ll always love you...you know that” he whispered, running his hand over the back of your head

you didn’t even need to answer him, you both knew the answer

“...my little worm” 

he snickered

well shit

new pet name unlocked

he gets you one of those fuzzy noodle worms on a string for your birthday

your his little worm now

be the best worm you can be

Kyle

he had taken you out to eat 

he wasn’t paying attention when you mentioned you wanted to eat him out but you forgive him

picking up your tray of food, you brought it to the outside table Kyle had spent fifteen minutes picking out, cuz it just had to be perfect

you smiled at the red head as you sat down, picking up his drink and handing it over 

“hey Kyleee...” you started, watching his entire face break out into a smile

“yesss...” he responded in the same sing-song tone of voice, picking up a straw 

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

his smile dropped

a look of confusion took its place

he wrinkled his nose

“the fuck?”

“would you still love me if I was a worm?” you repeated simply, taking a sip of your own drink

“why would you be a worm?” 

you shrugged

“it could happen” you reasoned, hiding your smile behind your cup

“no it can’t, you can’t just randomly turn into a worm” he argued, fiddling with the unopened straw

“I could end up drinking a...worm turning into potion” 

he just looked at you with a deadpan stare

you took a long sip of your drink

“..oh no, I think the café accidentally gave me a worm turning into potion” you gasped, looking between your drink and Kyle

he opened one end of his straw, putting his lips to the exposed plastic tube and blowing, causing the paper wrapped around to hit you squarely in the forehead 

“my poor little worm head...” you pouted, finally causing a snort out of your boyfriend

the rest of your lunch was mostly uneventful, the two of you chatting and people watching

a few hours later, at your house, your taking your sweater out of the dryer

Kyle spilled food on it, he said he’s sorry

Kyle walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you for a quick hug and kissing your temple 

“...yeah” he muttered before walking away 

“yeah what?” you called after him, confused

“Yeah, I would love you if you were a worm” he smiled before rounding a corner “don’t let it go to your head” he added from down the hall

too late

your ego has been boosted and the smile won’t leave your face

he’d be the best boyfriend a worm could have

Kenny

laughing his ass off

help him

he’s going to choke on his gum and die again

you both were sitting on his bed

but now he’s practically rolling on the floor

his contagious laughter making you struggle to contain your giggles

“aha...wha, what did you...” he took a deep breath, tears nearly forming in his eyes “can you repeat the question?” he finally managed to say 

you took a deep breathe of your own, trying to contain your laughter

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

once again he erupted into a fit of laughter, just like when you first asked him

you’re not sure what you were expecting him to do or say when you asked, but it surely wasn’t a reaction like this

he suddenly stopped, sitting up and looking into your eyes, deathly serious

“I can’t fuck a worm”

now it was your turn to laugh

the laughter that came from the both of you could probably be heard from outside, not helped by the fact that Kenny was making things worse

“wait wait wait...” he shuffled over to you, hands on your shoulders “what if I...hahaha, what if I was a worm too.” he snickered, almost unable to finish his thought. “We’d have hot worm sex!”

you couldn’t even respond to him as his laughter started to mix into him coughing his lungs out, leaning onto you for support

he thought he was so funny

you started to gently rock him back and forth

“Kenny, Kenny, you didn’t answer the question!” you reminded him

“I can’t” he squeaked, voice growing horse 

his arms were now wrapped snugly around your body and you could do nothing but shake your head, running your hand through his fluffy blonde hair

his laughter slowly died down, his head still stuck on your shoulder as he squeezed you

“I dunno, would you love me if I was a worm?” he giggled 

“hmm...no” you joked, earning a little nip on your neck from him in protest

“well that’s unfortunate...cuz I’d love you, even if you were the ugliest worm in the dirt” 

you rolled your eyes

“excuse you, I’d be a hot worm” you smiled

he lifted his head up and kissed your cheek

“I’d make you a little worm house, and sing you little worm songs at night, and carry you around with me in my parka...” he rambled, small ghosts of of kisses being peppered around your face 

“alright, alright I get it” you conceded, feeling your face heat up from the relentless kisses 

“nooo, my perfect partner needs to know that they’d be the perfect worm” 

he’s not letting you go

keeps telling you how he’d care for you if you were a worm

wants to cuddle like worms

its just him laying on top of you

you can’t move

it’s fine

Cartman

“abso-fucking-lutely not”

“Cartman!”

“I barely love you now”

“Cartman.”

“What kind of stupid question is that, dumbass?”

“Eric”

he’s in trouble and he knows it but doesn’t care

he needs you to know how stupid your question was

why a worm?

why would you even be a worm?

why would you ask him in the middle of watching a horror movie?

would saying yes make him some kind of furry?

these are the questions that plague his mind while you’re lecturing him

hope you weren’t expecting him to pay attention

“I’m not even attracted to worms, stupid, I’m attracted to you”

Cartman is a self claimed yousexual

he’s only got the hots for you and you only

no worms allowed

you’re a moronsexual

now actively steps on worms when it rains

no slimy worm in going to steal his partner if he has anything to say about it

Butters

starts tearing up

starts thinking the worst

what if while your cuddling he accidentally crushes you

what if a bird comes and swoops you up while you guys are having a picnic

do worms have lips? could he still kiss you?

maybe he could kiss your little worm head

oh gee how long do worms live for??

his thoughts are swirling and he doesn’t know what to do besides mildly panic

he promises he’ll be the best boyfriend a worm could ask for

he’ll try his best to keep you happy

“oh, please don’t leave me for a hotter, more capable worm”

you’re gonna have to explain it’s a joke before he starts googling ‘what to do when the love of my life turns into a worm’

bless his heart

[steveseddie]

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up. 

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.  

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone. 

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable. 

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it. 

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?” 

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?” 

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off. 

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him 

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?” 

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.  

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain. 

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?” 

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-” 

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?” 

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet. 

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together. 

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?” 

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve. 

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle. 

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines. 

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time. 

He can. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.” 

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie. 

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him. 

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either. 

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s. 

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.” 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.” 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh. 

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.” 

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already. 

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.” 

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.” 

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine. 

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth. 

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before. 

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.” 

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.” 

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.” 

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?” 

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?” 

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.” 

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.” 

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving. 

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down. 

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips. 

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back. 

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.” 

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that. 

[crows-in-the-house]

Envy

summary: hc's for Bill being jealous and doing awful things to everyone around you

pairing: yan! jealous!Bill Cipher x gn!reader

tw: toxic behaviours, mention of sex (at the end), death of a pet

his actions would be dependent on how much you spend time with either him or them - whoever "they" are. A pet? How cute, how silly, oops it's dead! What? It would die in a year anyway, stop making a fuss.

do you have a pack of friends? He wants to meet them! Let's see what kind of worthless scums try to take your attention from him!

a partner??? Do you know how much those things take from yours his time? You should break up with them this instant! Chop chop kid we have galaxies to overthrow!

at first he would be delicate, testing the ground and just manipulating you into spending more time with him. Maybe he would start adding some praise here and there, maybe doing actual nice things, like creating an (actually edible) meal out of thin air, or stopping the rain when you don't have an umbrella on you

just for you kid, just for you

soon it wouldn't be enough tho. He would start possesing you - promising he needs only twenty minutes and won't harm your body. Why not, what could go wrong?

this way he would "meet up" with your friends. At first he would just break in to their hauses and watch them sleep, wondering what do you see in them. What alse would you possibly need that he can't offer?

he would start reading their diaries, sometimes destroying the pages in the fit of rage at a mere mention of you. (The same would happen with their minds, if he would notice them dreaming about you)

would put ropes and knifes everywhere, break every lightbulb, draw triangles and ominous runes that somehow make their insides itchy. Maybe he would switch their salt with sugar. Or arsenic, who knows.

what would happen if all of that wouldn't work? That you still hang out and are even closer? That you start suspect Bill has been doing something suspicious lately? He would move to a different tactic of course.

also would tie them in their closets and set their homes on fire

it would be making you intruduce him to all your friends. He would make you sing praises of him and all his good deeds. After all, he's your inspiration, companion, best friend, your everything! Why not spend time with your other friends and "loved ones" together?

(he would not acknowladge your partner as gf/bf, no, it's just "that other mammal", but what's wrong with that, Bill is just Bill, he calls people stupid names all of the time!)

oh how cute you are, not noticing how uncomfortable all of those meatbags are. You just adore him, right?

every time you'd leave the room he would start gushing about you two spending time together. He would imply you prefering him, loving spending time with together, laughing and doing interesting stuff alone, just the two of you, kinda like a pair.

he would make gross remarks about their appereances, getting right into their insecurities. But why would that matter? They are not good enough anyway!

he would also posses you during sex making you moan his name instead of your partners. But don't act so fussy! It was just a joke!

if he would want to especially get under your partners skin (not litterally this time) he would gush about you hugging and kissing him every day. In reality it's just him squizing and licking you but tbh he doesn't see the difference

he would destroy all your matching clothes and accesoriess, no matter if it was with your friends, family or partner. It could be some 6 year old ex memrabilia, he doesn't care, it goes to the fire when he finds it, the only one you can match with is your lord and saviour Bill Cipher!

but don't think he would be only cruel! He would always whisper you just the sweet nothings when you're tauching yourself! Oh come on, just go on and stop telling him to leave, he needs to study human anatomy!

over all, this guy would be possesive and cruel not only to you, but also everything in your proximity

[literaila]

I was just wondering, at what point do raider and Gojo get married? And what does that look like for them? Did they elope, or have a very small ceremony? Something extravagant doesn’t seem like their vibe, but was it something like that?

The relationship progressed into something much more romantic overtime, it was so natural to them but taking the next step and getting married, like did Gojo fully propose or was it more like on a random Tuesday Gojo was like “we should probably get married“ and reader was just like “mhm sure”

Sorry for the long ask! I love them sm!!!!

hmm… good question.

for the proposal (the 32nd one, at least) extravagance is not the goal. the entire relationship is already dramatic as can be and you get tired after a while, you know?

it was all fun (not) and games when you were younger but you’re aging now. satoru’s even got a couple of grey hairs (he doesn’t but a little blow to the ego is healthy, okay?)

initially, satoru was going to take you somewhere. maybe dinner, maybe another fair. he probably wanted to get the kids on it—so megumi wasn’t shocked and to entertain tsumiki, and because you’d like it.

he was going to say lots of sweet things, butter you up for an entire day, and then pop the question in typical satoru fashion—overly dramatic and abundantly sweet.

but when has life worked out the way he planned?

instead, it’s a small moment. something overwhelmingly… domestic.

you and tsumiki are doing the dishes, her washing, you drying, while megumi wipes down the counters and satoru watches because he’s no longer allowed to clean.

it’s been at least five minutes, conversation slowing after dinner, when tsumiki asks: “can we put on some music?”

and satoru, ever the sucker, complies immediately.

the songs start out upbeat—something you and tsumiki can sing along to (very loudly).

and it devolves quickly. at first it was a couple of hip pops and maybe some shimmying shoulders—but it turns into a full dance routine as you eventually turn off the water and just spin around with your daughter for a bit.

satoru is standing across the counter and he is all limbs. it’s not his fault that he’s built like an actual insect, but it is entirely hilarious.

and you’re laughing at him, giggling with tsumiki, all while megumi watches out of the corner of his eye and continues to clean up.

(yes, he is the only grown-up in this family).

but the music changes—and there’s soft piano, or strumming guitar—and your laughter bubbles out as the rhythm shifts.

you’re still grinning at tsumiki, smoothing out her hair, trying to slow your heart from all the dancing.

satoru is quick to walk over to you, a hand out, already smirking. “will you dance with me?” he asks you, voice teasing and lithe.

and you shake your head, smiling back just the same telling him: “in your dreams.”

but you take his hand anyway.

all the while, tsumiki is coming up behind her brother, resting her chin on his shoulder with a smile. “megumii,” she sings, completely aware of his breaking points.

“no.”

“c’mon, one song?”

“no.”

“please,” she whines to him, already having won.

and megumi sighs, making a show of rolling his eyes, but he puts down his rag and turns around, begrudgingly taking her hand.

not that satoru or you are watching, of course, already drawn into your own little world.

it’s not a flashy dance by any means. satoru probably does know some ballroom dancing—the pretentious bastard—but you’ve never cared to learn. and why would you when you can just wrap your arms around his neck and hold onto him?

satoru sways you around, and you couldn’t care less about anything else.

if the world has rained all of its hellfire on you just to bring you to this moment, well, your gratitude is implied.

satoru is leaning down just a bit so he can be barely a centimeter away. “are you doing that on purpose?” he asks.

“doing what?”

“stepping on my feet.”

you grin. “of course i am.”

“such cruel beauty,” he tells you, then winks. “but i don’t mind.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

but you don’t push him away, don’t bother to call him six-eyes or poke his stomach.

you don’t want to ruin the feeling of his hands on your waist, or his breath on your nose.

and the song drones on—like it knows to keep you there, a calling card for something different.

megumi and tsumiki have been spinning throughout the room—led entirely by tsumiki. their dance is not oriented or stationary by any means, but tsumiki is laughing and megumi is smirking at that.

though when megumi glances over he notices that the two of you are barely moving. it might be a dance, but it looks more like an embrace, the two of you clinging to each other like megumi has seen many times before.

and he can’t help but slow tsumiki down, calling out before he can really think about it. “gojo.”

satoru’s head twists over, his face questioning, your eyes meeting megumi’s at the same time his do.

and megumi can’t say the words out loud, he can’t explain his sudden impulse, all he can do is nod at his father.

tsumiki is watching her brother with dark eyes.

satoru frowns, confused, but then he looks back to you, to megumi, and his eyes light with realization.

he squeezes your waist, kissing your forehead before smiling down at you. “wait here, okay? i’ll be right back.”

“what?”

but satoru is already moving out of the room, walking down the hall.

you’re standing there uselessly, hands limp by your sides.

“satoru?” you call, but he probably can’t hear you. you turn to megumi with a question in your eyes, tilting your head. “what’s he doing?”

megumi only shrugs.

satoru is gone for thirty seconds before he comes back, still grinning, his eyes only for you.

“what?” you ask him. “did something happen?”

he shakes his head, moving towards you again. he’s quick to pick up where he left off—arms wrapping around you, fingers clutched by your sides. and you reciprocate, even confused.

“satoru,” you say, blankly. “what’s going on?”

megumi and tsumiki are still watching, completely forgotten by the two of you.

satoru’s face is almost breaking with how wide he’s smiling at you, how soft. “i love you, you know?”

“yeah, i…” you frown. “i know that.”

“good,” is all he says, kissing your nose, and finally bending down.

he pulls out the ring before you can blink, but you barely even recognize that, far too focused on him.

you don’t gasp, but tsumiki does. your heart falls and picks back up in an instant, your eyes wide and stuck on him.

on satoru with his stupid smile and bright hair and breathtaking eyes. the person you love most, almost despite yourself.

“i love you,” satoru says again, like it’s important. and he was going to make a speech, was going to convince you of something more—but he can’t remember any of it now. he’s not even sure where he is, who he’s supposed to be. but he knows you—he always has. “okay?”

you blink, nodding. “i know that,” you whisper to him, so softly.

he grins. “will you, then?” satoru murmurs. “marry me?”

after that there are no words. it’s just you tackling him on the ground, satoru protecting your head as you fall, and you desperately nodding into his neck as you curl into him. the ring falls somewhere on the ground—you’ll find it later.

and tsumiki is practically bouncing towards the two of you, making wordless exclamations, bright and happy as ever as she lays on top of both of you.

megumi stands back, arms crossed, but he’s smiling, anyway.

finally, he thinks.

*

the wedding is very small. im thinking 10-15 people depending on how many students they have at the time.

it’s when megumi is 14ish, so year… 8?

it’s outdoors with lots of sparkling lights, simple, beautiful clothes, and a stupid man who is still smirking at you like he did when you were fifteen.

“i told you you’d fall for me,” satoru says, leaning just too far away to kiss.

and you shake your head at him, reaching up to pull his hair. “shut up,” you say, and kiss all of his words away.

[ssuburban-legendss]

please, please, please | m.v

summary: it's race week in hungary and the house of red bull is breaking down 

word count: 3k+

- July 20th, 2024. Hungary. -

There was nothing like a race weekend.

Milliseconds seemed to stretch for lifetimes, and a mere blink could last for an eternity. The hum of blood rushing in one’s ears, the burning, beating heart… it was everything. Every race was just as thrilling as it was terrifying and tense. 

Even now—even after years of living between breaths, you still weren’t used to the singing adrenaline. Maybe you never would be. 

How could one get used to screaming wheels and blinding lights? How could one stand that ache in the chest and tension of the heart? And how could you overcome the worry and fear that consumed your very being every time Max stepped into that car? 

Oh, Max. 

You sat in the garage, staring up at the live feed and cradling a crackling headset over your ears. Around you, various crew members were watching the televisions closely or busying themselves with screens and tools. Everyone else was along the pit wall, crafting magic in real-time. 

Part of you wished that you could listen to their live chatter instead of the F1 TV broadcast, but an even greater part of you knew that such constant and unfiltered coverage would make your head spin. There was already too much happening on television; you didn’t need extra noise.

In some ways, qualifying was worse than the actual race. The desperation for a faster lap, the frustration, and the bubbling tension. Some days, it was just too much. And today, with the rain and the endless media coverage… 

Maybe you needed more coffee.

“Mate, I don’t think we can improve like this.” Max’s voice crackled across your headphones, flooding through your ears and sparking your nerves alight. He sounded… nervous. Or maybe it was tension. You weren’t sure, but neither emotion was appealing.

Even from a distance, you could imagine the furrow between Max’s brow and the slight pout of his lip. His every expression was known to you, but what good would that do now? You felt trapped behind glass, watching him spin circles as his voice echoed in your ears. The only person that could reach him now was GP, and even then…

The past few weeks had been tense. Between the constant media attention and the slow decline in form, cracks were beginning to sprout in the marble pillars of Red Bull’s house. Even Max seemed less sure lately, falling behind on the circuits he once called home. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to forget the exhaustion in his voice. It was only Q1, yet it felt like you had been here for days.

“What’s your concern?” GP responded, his tone steady and smooth. “The temperatures or the…”

“The rain! The rain!” Max shouted back, instantly turning all nerves into boiling blood and burning rage. The sharpness of his words made you cringe, and a slight nervous nausea began to bloom in your stomach. Oh dear. A million thoughts rushed through your head at once, mixing into a crumbled cloud of anxiety. 

It was hard to pull Max back down once the frustration bubbled over. There was no such thing as “Mad Max”—at least not to you, but the anger was real, and it was hard to take or tame. And it was unending. Rage clouded some people’s judgment, but not Max. If anything, he seemed to find clarity in burning breath and bitter words. The ache and anger could keep him going for hours on end—lap after lap. But it also sent him spiraling downward, lost in his head and a faraway place you couldn’t find. He was unreachable in those moments, and you hated it. 

“Okay, calm down, Max.” GP replied, “Then, if you’re concerned about the rain, we can box. We can come back to the garage, it’s not a problem—“

Another voice cut through the conversation, screaming in your headset and flashing across the live feed, “Perez!”

You refocused your attention on the present and scanned the screens, looking for the F1 News Feed. At last, your eyes landed on the television, and the camera zoomed in hungrily on Checo’s smoking car. 

Red Flag.

One of the workers along the barrier gave a thumbs up. Okay. He was okay. A strangely tense sigh left your throat. 

“One Red Bull driver being calmed down on the radio, the other one—in the part of the track that we were just referencing—finds the barrier. And as a driver under pressure coming into the weekend—“

You turned off your headset and ignored the rest of the broadcast. Checo was fine, and that was all that mattered. You made a mental note to call Carola later and tried to keep your face indifferent and easy. You were certain that cameras were scanning the garage now, looking for some misplaced expression or glance to sensationalize into another disaster or distraction. 

Oh, disaster. 

One Red Bull driver being calmed down on the radio... You heard the commentary echoing in your head over and over. Was everyone thinking the same thing as you? Was everyone worried that Max was slipping into inconsolable anger? He had never been good at hiding his frustration, but now was not the time for such lapses in judgment. You mentally begged for his ease of heart but knew such things were impossible. The stress was beginning to cut into everyone’s skin. 

After a few moments, Max returned to the garage and his car was pulled back into place. Now, all anyone could do was hurry up and wait. 

It was hard being so close to Max and yet so far away. Being in the garage was a blessing, but sometimes it felt like you were forced apart and held at arm's length. Sometimes, the two of you could talk between sessions and during 

breaks, but it was probably best to stay out of everyone’s way with things so tense. 

Before you could search for a distraction, however, one of the engineers waved you over and nodded to Max’s car. A helmet covered the man’s face, and it was hard to focus completely on anything, but the message of his gesture was clear: pep talk time. 

Oh. That bad, huh?

You wove your way through the mess of technology and restless bodies and found yourself beside the still humming car. Endless words drifted around your head, but choosing the right thing to say felt impossible. Things had been tense for weeks, and today felt like the final straw. Control was slipping, and Max was sinking back into the unease of his youth. You could already see the headlines and tweets. You could already see the comments under your posts. You could already hear the commentary. Mad Max. Mad Max. Mad Max.

Taking a deep breath, you stuck your head into the cockpit and flipped up Max’s visor, trying to seem bubbly and calm—yet Max was already glaring. 

“Hi.” You said, making sure to enunciate the word. He couldn’t hear you, but it didn’t matter—you just wanted to see him, and you hoped that was enough. 

Max blinked, his blond eyelashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks. His gaze softened slightly at your words, but the ice in his eyes didn’t melt entirely. Hi. 

A million words flashed through your mind. What now? What could you possibly say now that would change all this? How did you pull Max back from the edge? Thousands of statistics and hundreds of practiced speeches floated through your thoughts, but none seemed good enough. All you could think about was the tension in his voice and the mocking commentary and—

“I love you.” Your heart spoke without permission, pulling forth the only thing that truly mattered. “I love you, okay?”

A slight crease wove between Max’s brow as he watched your mouth—trying to decode your words through the senseless sound. After a delayed second, realization twinkled in his eyes, and he smiled. Instantly, the cold glare faded from his gaze, and he seemed like your Max again, with flushed cheeks and crinkling eyes under the blinding garage lights. I love you, too.

———

Later that night, the waves of uncertainty returned. 

P3. 

The position rattled around in your head and made your heart sting. Last year, this race had been easy. Though qualifying had ended with Lewis on pole, Max had regained the position on Sunday and crafted a lead of thirty-three seconds. That had been his best gap all season. So, how had thirty-three seconds turned into P3? Of course, the position wasn’t terrible, but something was definitely wrong. Everything felt wrong these days. You just hoped that Max would keep his head long enough to correct it. 

You glanced across the table, carefully observing the strain in Max’s expression. His brows were furrowed and tense, hanging low over his eyes and casting deep shadows across his face. Even his gaze seemed cloudy, as the clear blue-green of his eyes appeared dull and distant. An exhausted flush still stained his cheeks, but the red made him look sickly and sad in the fading daylight. 

Seeing him like this was agony. 

The media and the internet could rave about “Mad Max” all they wanted, yet you saw the truth in the dim light of his trailer. The anger and sharp edges masked a trembling lip and bleary eyes.   Your Max was lost somewhere in his head, caught between the kart from years before and the car of today—and it hurt. 

“You did your best.” You said, pushing scraps of dinner around on your plate. “It’s just a hard run, yeah?” Despite yourself, your voice cracked. It had been at least an hour since either of you spoke, and between the emotion and strain, your words shattered in the tense air. 

“It’s a shit run.” Max corrected sharply, pointing his spoon at you, “I don’t think everyone understands that. It’s a fucking shit run.” Though his eyes were set on your face, Max’s gaze seemed miles away, and the bitterness of his words felt directionless. 

Still angry, then. Not your Max, just Mad Max. 

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight, m’just saying,” You replied, pushing his accusing spoon away with yours, “You just do your best tomorrow. News said there shouldn’t be rain, so that’ll be good.” 

Max huffed, unconvinced and frustrated, “We’ll see.” 

He was fighting with himself again, battling ghosts in his chest and competing against a past that would never truly fade. Yet the sinking spiral and flames of rage wouldn’t do any good. The media was crazy enough right now, and frankly, you felt crazy too. You needed him beside you, and you needed him to be calm. You wanted your Max back. If the car, the team, and the whole thing were going to hell, you just wanted him to make it out. 

You thought about Carola, stuck at home while her husband’s car smoked and sizzled on live TV. You didn’t want to remember how that felt. You didn’t want to recall the trembling hands and shaking breath. You needed Max steady and safe. Mad Max crashed cars and sent your head spinning—your Max needed to be something more.

With a tired sigh, you leaned across the table and kissed his cheek, relishing in the warmth of his skin below your lips. Some of the tension in his expression melted below your touch, “Just be good, please.” You breathed, hoping the warmth of your words against his flushed face would find a place in his heart. “And safe.” 

Max pulled back and smiled a little too brightly—his eyes glittering with mischief, “I’m very good.” 

With a huff, you sat back down and gave him a playful kick under the table, “Yeah, right. You’re yelling at GP, and suddenly everyone on Twitter is going on about Mad—“

“It’s actually X.” Max corrected in a superior tone. 

“Don’t start.” You tried to sound serious, but a teasing smile bloomed on your face, and laughter bubbled from your chest. It was nice to see him relaxed, even just a little. “I’m trying to scold you.”

With a laugh, Max leaned back in his chair and stretched slightly, reaching for something unseeable. The casual motion and the gentle crinkle of his face eased you a little, soothing something in your pounding heart. This is the Max you needed on the track tomorrow—this is the Max you needed in the media pen and in the garage. This is the Max that would live long enough to come home. 

“I’m going to play,” Max said, breaking your spiraling thoughts, “You’ll come?”

You glanced at your watch. It was getting late, but you hadn’t spent extended time together in weeks. You hummed and gave in, “Sure, just for a bit.”

Max beamed, and suddenly, everything was worth it—the extra coffee you’d have to drink tomorrow, the extra time you’d have to spend getting ready. It was all worth five more seconds of peace and grins. Still smiling, Max pressed several disorganized kisses to your face until you were beaming, too. 

———

Max’s gaming room was connected to the main living space, overflowing with electronics and blinking lights. 

You trailed behind Max, swinging your linked hands and flicking on your phone so you could scroll through social media. The qualifying results consumed most of your feed, as did senseless speculation.

“Did you get a look at Checo’s car?” You asked, still looking at your phone and curling into a chair beside the computer. “I’m sure the boys will be up all night on that.” 

Max let go of your linked hands and settled into his seat. From this angle, you were just out of the camera’s vision, but still within Max’s peripheral. Though he hardly spared anything else a glance during streams or gaming sessions, you quickly realized that he didn’t like being alone. Max seemed more at ease even when the two of you simply sat in silence. Besides, you didn’t really like being on camera anyway—the very last thing Red Bull needed right now was extra attention or scrutiny. The common narrative that having a girlfriend only distracted athletes always arrived just in time to bite you in the ass. You didn’t need that right now. Max didn’t need that right now. You were barely hanging on as it was. 

“Might have to start in the pit tomorrow,” Max said, slowly flipping switches and bringing his computer to life. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something else, but he simply shrugged, “Shit weekend.” 

You hummed, scrolling through your phone and trying to change the subject. He had relaxed slightly after dinner, and you didn’t want him falling back into despair and rage, “How long you got until lights out?”

During race weekends, every second was meticulously arranged. Meals were crafted according to specific weight and energy requirements, interviews were slotted between breaths, and curfew was enforced so drivers met perfectly planned out sleep schedules. 

Technically, you weren’t even allowed in here after dark, but you and Max stole seconds whenever possible. 

“Don’t care,” Max replied, shooting you a pleased, dazzling grin. 

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to fight a scarlet blush, “Alright.”

His manager would certainly have something to say about that, but you let it go. There was no point in arguing. It had been a long day for both of you, and this was how Max relaxed—video games and vitriol. 

The following two hours passed by in a blink. Max played and chatted with his friends while you relished in the happiness of his cheers and the joy in his laughter. He seemed most himself in these moments—late at night, away from the garage and speaking nonsense with his friends. He loved racing, you knew he loved racing, but in soft seconds like this, you wished he would just retire. You would give anything to sit with him all day long, intertwining your legs under the table and smiling while he laughed. You would give anything just to kill time with him. 

Eventually, though, your yawns and bleary eyes won out over your heart. You needed sleep. He needed sleep. Ugh, if only you could sleep here. How much was that fine again? 

Unwilling to find out, you sent Max a text: Camera Off. 

After a slight delay, a chime sounded through the room, and Max glanced sideways at his phone. Without hesitation, he mumbled a quick dismissal and switched off his camera and microphone. 

“What?” He blinked at you, hanging on your every word. For a second, he seemed tense—still half on the track. 

“I gotta go,” You said, standing. “Getting late.” You reached for Max’s face and brushed a light touch along his cheek, trying to memorize the curves of his features to hold you off until tomorrow. Oh, how you wished the ease in his eyes would last forever. 

“Going to bed?” He asked, leaning into your touch immediately and staring up at you with electric blue-green eyes. He wanted you to stay. 

You laughed lightly, gently combing a hand through his hair and twisting blond strands around your fingertips, “I was gonna call Carola but m’tired. I should be sleeping. You too. Long day tomorrow.”

Max rolled his eyes, though the gesture had no malice behind it, just playful exhaustion. He leaned forward and rested his chin on your stomach with a childish sigh and slight pout, “Whatever.”

His easy closeness made your neck flush with warmth, and suddenly, that imaginary fine didn’t seem so steep. All reason and reality melted away as your eyes scanned the sunspots on his face and traced the twinkling in his eyes. 

Then you remembered the yelling, Checo’s crash, reporters, endless speculation, and… You needed to stay focused. 

Summer break was coming up fast. You could wait until summer break. All the light and laughter in the world could wait a few more days. 

“I’ll see you later,” You said, running your fingertips across his features, “Go to bed soon, okay? Please.”

“Okay,” Max said brightly—definitely lying. He quickly kissed the inside of your wrist as you traced an invisible line down his nose, “Night.”

There was no such thing as “Mad Max”—at least not to you, at least not right now. 

“Night.”

[frenchkisstheabyss]

🖤 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖆𝖓 🖤

🖤 Pairing: ex boyfriend!choi san x chubby!fem!reader (mingi's spoken about but doesn't appear)

🖤 Genre: angst/fluff/smut

🖤 Summary: You make a living stepping on men's necks, literally and metaphorically speaking. Men spend every dime they have for the chance to be your lapdog. You are their weakness. Your dirty little secret? You have a weakness of your own, one you've tried your hardest to leave in the past, but you've managed to make him jealous and, oh, I think he's knocking on your door right now.

🖤 Word Count: 2.3k-ish

🖤 Warnings: reader works as a dom so she does qualify as a ✨sex worker✨ & it's treated as a positive cause slay queen, jealous /possessive San, unprotected sex, fingering, nibbling, scratching, reader for sure has a lil praise kink, this man does not pull out, San's giving dom vibes & reader's quite subby for him, pet names (baby, my girl, good girl) & that's all darlings

🖤 A/N: My chubby girl smut agenda continues with this fic as it will with all others and the best part is, no one can stop me. Mwahahahaha. No, but really, I hope you lovelies enjoy reading it.

Also a big thanks to @anyamaris for test reading everything my brain throws out all of the time. Love of my life, truly.

Your night routine is sacred. Never more so than on nights like tonight when you take extra steps to make it particularly romantic for yourself. You treat yourself like a lover, running a nice warm bubble bath and preparing your favorite fruits to snack on while you soak in it. You don’t rush to cover your body afterward, instead taking the time to find pleasure in every stretch mark and every curve as you massage rich tropical oils into your skin. 

The rain is your companion, singing to you in the form of raindrops patting at your window. Candles burn on your windowsill, tiny lanterns reflecting shadows in the darkness of this place you call home. Crawling into your bed, you slip beneath your freshly washed sheets and scroll through your phone to find the right song. It doesn’t take long to find it. You hit “play” and close your eyes, ready to be swept away by the sweet notes emanating from your phone. 

This is serenity. This is heaven. This is—

“What the actual fuck?” you shout, shaken by an unexpected knock at your door. The knocking is impatient, the agitation of the person on the other end undeniable. You jump from your bed, the sheet still clinging to your figure, and cautiously approach the door. You specifically didn’t schedule any sessions for tonight and your clients know better than to pop up unannounced. 

“Whoever you are, go away! I have a gun!” You do. You have to. In your line of business being able to protect yourself is a necessity. It’d be silly not to have one and if ever there were an example why, this has to be it. The knocking stops. A brief moment of silence passes and then—

“You have a gun?” San asks, more confused than he is threatened. You don’t notice until now that you’ve been holding your breath this entire time but at the sound of his voice, you can miraculously breathe again. “San? What are you doing here?” you frown, cracking the door enough to get a good look at your ex.

The look is, in fact, good. Better than good, it’s wonderful. For all of this mysterious frustration he seems to be carrying, he still manages to be the most handsome thing you can imagine finding in your hallway near midnight. 

San pushes past you, marching into your cozy studio apartment as if it were his own. “We need to talk. Now.” You roll your eyes, holding back laughter as you close the door behind him. “Someone’s sassy tonight” you tease, watching as he removes his wet boots and coat. He places them exactly where they’re meant to go.

You smile to yourself, finding it sweet that he still remembers how things go after nearly a year apart. “Don’t patronize me.” “I’m not patronizing you,” you say, approaching him with a hand outstretched to stroke his cheek, “Sannie—” 

San takes a step back, the darkness in his eyes intensified by your attempt at affection. “And don’t call me that!” “Lower your voice! This is my home. You can respect me in it or get out.” Seeing you upset cools him down a bit. Enough to question the emotions that led him to drive over here to begin with.

He shouldn’t be here. He has no right to confront you. To care what you do or who you do it with. But it’s been eating him up inside for days, plaguing his every waking thought. Some part of him is still tethered to you and that’s why, against his better judgment, he’s here.

“Are you…” he stutters, the anger bubbling up once more at the thought of what he’s about to ask, “How long has Mingi been coming to you?” “Ah,” you gasp, fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Dodging eye contact, you head for the kitchen, busying yourself with the tea kettle. “You want some tea? We should have tea.”

Raking his fingers through delicate strands of pitch black hair, he approaches the kitchen and lets himself, for the most fleeting of moments, enjoy seeing you like this again. He’s missed you making him tea late at night. This would be everything he ever wanted under any other circumstance than this. “I don’t want tea. I want you to answer my question. How long?”

“A few weeks” you sigh, abandoning the kettle on the counter, “We ran into each other at the club one night and we started talking then, I mean, I don’t know, it just sorta happened.” In an instant, he’s on you, fingers squeezing your wrists as he presses you against the counter. “Things like this don’t sorta happen!” “Oh, come on, San. I have bills to pay. If I don’t take on clients, who’s gonna pay them? You?” “Haven’t I before?” Something about being reminded of before makes you as breathless as he is. “That was a long time ago.” 

A long time ago but why does it feel like yesterday when he last had your body pressed against every wall in this apartment? So many hours were spent using your fingertips to traverse every exquisite muscle on his body. There are new ones now, you see them flex when he readjusts his grip on you. How good they must feel to touch. God bless the gym.

Shaking yourself free of your lust fueled daze, you break your wrists loose from him. “If that’s all you can go.” Why are you doing this? Why are you so stubborn? You don’t want him to go. Your body—your heart—begs him to stay even if it’s just to argue for the rest of the night. 

“Fine, I’ll leave, but not until you tell me one more thing. Does he touch you? Like I did?” he asks, his expression cold as he tries to contain his jealousy. “Touch me like you did?” you giggle, reaching to stroke his cheek again. This time he doesn’t step away. He lets you touch him, your soft hand warming the cool raindrops on his cheek. A fire ignites in his eyes, not unlike the flames dancing atop the candle wicks. It’s distant, buried somewhere deep, but you see it and it makes you smile.

“I never let anyone touch me like you did” you whisper, “Mingi just wants someone to boss him around. I happen to be good at that. There’s nothing sexual. I could…” San tugs the sheet tightly around your body, gathering the two loose ends at your hip where his knuckles just barely graze the plush of your thigh. You let out a sound that’s almost a moan but not quite. He smirks, bringing his other hand to your side to massage the softness of your love handles. You're so cute when you’re flustered.

“I, uh, I…” you stutter, watching as his lips grow nearer to yours, “I could stop seeing him if you want.” “You’d do that for me?” San asks, teasing your lower lip with his. “I would do anything for you. You know that.” This is what he does to you and this is why you broke things off with him. San’s love brings you to your knees. You fold for him in a millisecond. You’re supposed to have every man in the palm of your hand yet you find yourself, delicate and fragile, nestled in his. 

“Will you do something else for me?” “Like what?” “Kiss me.” And you do. No hesitation. No time for second guesses. Anything for him. A rush hits you, threatening to knock you off of your feet. San only holds you closer, his tongue tangling with yours, indulging in the taste of you. A craving much overdue to be satisfied. 

“Do I still have to leave?” he pants, his voice a low rasp as he kisses his way down your chin. He buries his face in your neck, his kisses growing more passionate with each passing second. You smell good enough to eat and he almost does, nibbling at your neck sharply enough to send chills down your spine. You shake your head, wrapping a leg around his waist to grind against him. The simple act of kissing you has him hard enough that not even the few layers of fabric between you can suppress his need. 

“Fuck, baby” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back from the rhythm of your hips. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss. “Don’t leave me, Sannie. Please.” You’re prepared to beg more, as much as he wants you to, but your words turn incoherent at the sensation of his thumb stroking your clit. His other fingers dance dangerously close to your entrance, happily collecting the juices dripping from your core.

You look down to find that the sheet barely clings to your body, except for a small corner stuck between you and the counter. Everything has fallen away leaving you completely exposed. San’s favorite way to have you. “You’re so wet for me. My girl” he coos, easing two fingers deep into you, “Still my girl? Hmm?” You’re trembling, gripping his shirt as you ride his fingers in time with the flicking of his wrist.

Only he could do this. Make you feel this unbelievably good with just his fingers. "Always your girl. Always—ah” you moan into his mouth before he’s kissing his way down your neck again. The way your back is arched makes your breasts sit so deliciously that he has to taste them. San needs to feel the weight of them in his hands as he captures your perked nipples between his lips, circling them with his tongue. 

His mouth is so full of you that every moan that leaves him vibrates through your chest making sure that you never once underestimate the intensity of his longing. Your thighs are soaked, your pussy dripping—pulsing—clenching around his fingers. Your little squeaks and moans are too pretty. Too addictive. San picks up speed, his only mission to make a complete mess of you or to make you make a complete mess of yourself. Either or both. Definitely both. 

“Sannie. You’re gonna make me—fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry, feeling the pressure build within you. “Mmm,” he hums, releasing your nipple but not without taking one last lick of your overstimulated bud. You didn’t need to tell him. You never do. He knows when you're close, down to the second, which is why his timing is perfect when he pulls his fingers away leaving you hanging on the edge of oblivion.

You whine at the unexpected loss, your clit twitching and your walls greedy for something to hold onto. San moves out of reach, taking his time to shed his clothing. “Not on my fingers, baby,” he says, flashing that devilishly handsome smile of his, “On me.” He disappears around the corner and you trail behind him like a bright eyed puppy who wants more than anything to be the object of its owner's affection.

San sits on the edge of the bed, admiring the way your body jiggles as you skip over to him. He takes you by the hand, lowering you onto his lap, and the skin to skin contact sends a shot of adrenaline coursing through both of you. “I could just look at you all night. So beautiful” he muses, palms slapping your ass. His fingers dig in, keeping your hips raised enough that the tip of his cock almost presses at your slit.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, kissing him on the bridge of his nose, “You can look at me all you want.” One of San’s hands disappears beneath you, stroking his length as he lowers you down onto him. He stops at the tip, letting your arousal run down his shaft. “All I want because you belong to me?” You bite down on your bottom lip, eager to take him. “Yes,” you mewl and he feeds you another inch. A reward for being his good girl.

“No more Mingi?”

“No more. I swear.” 

Another inch and your heart skips a beat. This is evil. “No more anyone else” he demands, taunting you with one more inch before taking it back, “I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl. Only me.” “Only you” you promise, unintentionally batting your eyelashes in the most innocent way. San grabs your hips, slamming you down onto him, “Good now cum for me.”

Being stretched by him, full of every thick rigid inch of his cock, is intoxicating enough. But the feeling of handing over control, of letting him have you completely, has you buzzing. San bounces you in his lap, kissing you everywhere his lips can access, whispering every praise he’s saved up for you over time.

Precious. Perfect. Never letting go. Love you. My everything. My world. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Sannie—” you draw a breath in. A flash of heat hits you and you’re lost to pleasure. Your body explodes and implodes. Heavy and weightless all at once. You gush down his length, every inch of him drenched with your juices. San doesn’t stop, not even when your nails dig deep into the skin of his shoulder. He only goes faster and harder, wanting to break you, his precious girl, and put you back together then do it again. 

But his body’s as sensitive as yours and he can’t hold back, spilling into you to the point of overflow. There’s so much warmth and fullness. It’s comforting, soothing you as you gradually float back down. Lying back on the bed, San cradles you in his arms, not wanting to be anywhere else than right here with you.

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his love for you in every breath he takes. How you ever pushed him away you can’t understand but you know, as he softly kisses your forehead, that you never will again.

[gucciwins]

Love

Love told through actions

A/N: another short story. it's sweet and i hope you enjoy

+

Love in movies was always spoken to be about grand gestures and confessing your love in the rain. Y/N had never been lucky to be loved like that. Y/N cut off relationships because her partners never made her feel the butterflies books talked about. It was always an empty feeling, and Y/N held out for that something more.

It wasn’t until she met Harry that she realized the movies had it wrong. Love wasn’t about putting yourself on the line or professing your love in order not to lose the person you loved. Love was in every little act of kindness a partner did. 

From the moment Harry came into her life he showed her love. It’s one of the biggest reasons she falls in love with more and more each day.

Harry loved to have Y/N’s coffee made in the morning because he knew it would put a smile on her face. 

He loved to help her put on her coat before leaving the house because then he would be assured she wouldn’t be cold. 

He loved holding her hand and putting it in his pocket because he loved keeping her close.

Harry made a playlist of her favorite songs because he knew how much she hated the shuffle playing the same three songs in a row.

He learned how to braid her hair because sometimes she was busy cooking and needed it out of the way. Harry knew a braid would keep it tight, which is also a reason why he always has a claw clip clipped at the end of his shirt. 

It also made Y/N reflect that she pours her love for him in acts of love. She texts him during her lunch break so he knows she is thinking of him. She helps make his bed in the morning when he’s in the shower. Y/N will make extra lunch because she knows he’s forgetful in packing his own. It’s the little things for them. 

Y/N had a rough day at work, she didn’t let Harry know but she would be going to his place after work. She had spare clothes in her pre-packed bag and was ready to enjoy the night with Harry. Y/N knew she might not be fun company but Harry always managed to put a smile on her face. 

When she arrived at his apartment, she parked in his free space knowing he saved it for her. He’d never make her walk in the dark, especially not alone. She walked up, knocking one time and let herself in. Harry didn’t lock the door when he knew she was on her way. Y/N thought it was unsafe but he promised her it was only a few minutes. 

She took off her shoes, lining them up next to Harrys. Her bag was dumped on a nearby chair. Y/N walked inside trying to find Harry but instead found the living room set up with blankets and pillows. There were endless of her favorite snacks almost spilling off the coffee table. The tv was set up to show the newest Trolls movie ready to be played. 

Y/N felt herself well up with tears. Harry set this up for her, for no other reason than because he wanted to. 

Harry walked out to the restroom, drying off his hair and his shorts hanging low. “Hi, honey.” 

Y/N felt herself melt and hurried over to be in his warm embrace. He was quick to welcome her with a kiss to her temple, Y/N placed her own over one of his swallows. 

“You don’t want to watch Trolls,” she sputters. Not believing he’d watch a dumb kid movie simply because they’re herfavorite. 

Harry frowns, running his hands down her back. “I’ll have you know, I’m a big Branch fan. His character development is set to be huge.”

Y/N giggles, because that means he must have watched the other two films on his own. These were comfort movies that couldn’t make her sad. Their job was to have her sing and laugh to the silliness of the characters. 

“Any special reason for the set up?” Y/N asks curious. 

Harry smirks, pulling away to look at her shining eyes. “Can’t I be a good boyfriend and surprise you?”

Y/N shrugs, “sure but feels a little on the nose.” 

Harry drapes his arm over her shoulder and guides her into the bedroom. He has a change of clothes laid on the bed for her. “You didn’t text me a single heart.” Harry hangs up his towel. “You love putting ten hearts to everything so I knew you must be feeling down or something.”

Y/N feels her tears start up again because Harry really does notice everything. She gestures for Harry to come back over to her and he does quickly. Y/N leans up on her toes and places a kiss on Harry’s sweet lips. It’s an “I love you” one they both don’t have to voice because it’s felt. 

“I’m going to suck your dick so good after we watch the Trolls.” Harry throws his head back in surprise. 

He pulls her into another kiss, much longer and much more passionate. “Don’t take long, I’ve thrown your favorite blanket in the dryer.”

Another, I love you. 

[aresojeroso]

★Picnic date with the slasher boys!★

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt and Ghost face (Billy and stu).

•Neutral pronouns

•Just Fluff!

•Headcanons, of course!

Enjoy!

Jason Voorhees.

★He was a little insecure about it, if you where going to like the place, the food, etc. I dare to say that he was even more nervous than insecure. What if rains instead of being a sunny day?

★He tried his best to be a date, a special moment for you two, sharing the silent treatment, in a soft moment while the birds make their music between the trees.

★The view of you, delicate even if you where strong, in the green of the grass... He could spend hours and hours watching you in the woods, where the spots of sunlight caress you skin so delicate like a whisper... In that moment he only wishes to be a good poet, brave enough to say what he feels when he watches you, make a letter for you, sunlight or moonlight, you where precious to him.

★Probably will bring a bouquet of flowers, his mom raised a gentleman, even if the flowers are from the wild. He thinks they're pretty like you.

Even if you aren't a fan of flowers, probably he will find something that is pretty and for your taste. Crow skulls? Leaves? Little rocks? Don't worry, he has that covered. He may seem busy all the time, but he's a great watcher, he will know somehow.

★Read a book for him, he loves your voice. He can lay in the blanket for the picnic and listen to you for hours. His breath softened, his body relaxed... A day only for you.

★Both of you probably lose the sense of time, you fell asleep and he probably was to hipnotized for you to notice that the sun just set, the orange tones everywhere...

★He couldn't believe that you could look even prettier. Maybe you're an angel!

★He loves you.

Thomas Hewitt

•A picnic? In this place? No, too much sun for you, he doesn't want you to have a sunburn.

•But your puppy eyes make him feel weak, even if his priority is to keep you save from everything...

•Then, something comes to his mind. Now he has a plan, so... He lets you know that is a yes, but not now, you'll have to wait.

•Days and days passed, you wondered what tommy was doing, Hoyt was always complaining about how Tommy wasn't working most of the time, then what he was doing? He promised...

•Until one day you find out why.

•He guided you after he appeared in the door of your bedroom, his eyes where full of energy, he couldn't wait to show you his answer.

•And he had a basket in his left arm.

•He offered to you his right arm, like a gentleman... Luda's Mae work!

•And then... He built a small place near to the trees in the farm, like a little cabin, but at the same time just a place with a ceiling, a clean floor, and a blanket above it so you can get a picnic date.

•He made it for you, just you.

•He loves you.

Ghostface. (Billy and Stu!)

★Billy automatically says no, Stu says a very yes. It doesn't surprise you, sometimes Billy is like a vampire, allergic to the sun...

★Stu gets ready, he's so happy to spend time with you out, in, even the space! He loves everything that means being with you!

★Billy at the very end surrenders to your happiness and the energy from Stu... (And maybe Stu got annoying asf trying to convince him.)

★Both of you, Stu and you, decided to go for a quiet place (maybe that will make Billy more happy with) so, the nearest wood is the best option and at the same time Stu is happy to be in a place full of bugs, leaves, green, greeeeen! Even if he's not such a fan of nature.

★Billy approves the choice, so practically you have green light.

★Road with Stu singing the music from the stereo, Billy with his (fake) face of boredom. And you just enjoying them being them.

★Billy puts everything, the blanket, the basket, even the fucking food, just to save your life... And his too. Stu it's not the best at cooking.

★Once set everything... Billy will lay there, lazily, and will ask you to tell your day, an experience or something. He just wants to hear you.

★Stu plays with you, even hide and seek. Both of you run everywhere, challenging Billy to join! He does after a while (he cant say no for you two, and he knows that... but he got a pride to protect),and he's very competitive.

★They love you.

•Are you sure that you want to go out with him? This was completely your idea, but he's not going to say no. He just doesn't care that much. Someone sees him? It's ok, he'll kill them anyways.

•Obviusly you have to dismiss him to not doing that, he agrees, but only because you offered a sort of sweets for the picnic. (Not because he can't say no toy your puppy eyes, of course not.)

•Internaly he's grateful that at the end you choose a place, still in haddofield, away from every posible person. You two alone, in a beautiful sunny day. (He's not a fan of heat an sun).

•He carries everything for the picnic, but you'll have to cook everything... At least he stoled some candies forma store.

•He takes off his mask.

•You two spend a quiet time in there, his just sit in the blanket, staring at you with his cold blue eyes... For him it's perfect, watching you for hours? It's his favorite hobby, he does all day. (But without you knowing it.)

•You don't know how, but after a while, he can't take off his hands from you. He's grabbing your little hand, your check, caressing your neck, your shoulder... Like if he was admiring a beautiful sculpture. (He's an artistic man, don't blame him)

•Then, while you both eat some delicious stuff (and probably diabetic for him) you enjoy his silence... That says more than a thousand of words.

•He loves you.

Hi there! I hope you enjoy this and feel free to ask something to write! If I had mistakes on my writing, forgive me! English it's not my native language, I'm Mexican! So, if your native language is Spanish too, feel free to ask something on that!

Love to y'all!