#got my jab so I can’t complain!

[azzibuckets]

anything you want [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: fluffy blurb based off this moment last year when paige dressed azzi in her entire outfit at the sza concert then lent her her jacket

a/n: dedicated to @clairosrealwife for messaging me on 4 different places asking for a new fic like the overbearing annoying ass she is

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

“Yikes.”

Paige, Jana, and Aaliyah peered through the doorway of Azzi’s room, all exchanging glances at the sight before them. Azzi was slumped on the floor, face down in a pile of clothes while shirts and sweaters were strewn all over her bed, furniture, and closet.

They’d been eating snacks in the kitchen before muffed groans had pierced the peaceful silence of the dorm. Azzi had been in a mood all day, and no one on the team dared to bother her when she was pissed off. But it was becoming hard to enjoy their Lays when Azzi was huffing and storming around in the other room, so they made a mutual agreement to approach the girl together by having strength in numbers.

“Azzarae,” Aaliyah said gently, always having a soft spot for her younger roommate. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find anything cute to wear for the concert,” Azzi groaned. “This is literally the worst day of my life. I failed my exam in accounting this morning and then I got a smoothie to console myself but then I fucking spilled the entire thing-,”

Paige glared at her teammates as they slowly started to creep away from the door. “Your girlfriend, your problem,” Aaliyah mouthed before she and Jana took off, giggling as they returned back to their snacks.

Fatties, Paige thought bitterly to herself before entering the room and shutting the door. “You know the entire team is scared of you whenever you’re mad?”

A small smirk slid its way onto Azzi’s face. “I know. They leave me alone for once. I get peace and quiet.”

Paige rolled her eyes fondly. She grabbed Azzi’s hand and folded it between hers, rubbing soothing circles across Azzi’s palm with her thumbs. “I got some new shit in the mail a few days ago. Come over and try them on?”

Azzi nodded gratefully. On their way out, Aaliyah and Jana were still laughing like hyenas, fingers flying across their screens as they texted the group chat about how they’d left Paige to her own devices. But as soon as Azzi sent them a withering stare, they both immediately shut up. “You’re such a pussy,” Jana whispered to Aaliyah. “You’re literally older than her.” Without looking up from her phone, Aaliyah jabbed Jana in the stomach.

Azzi made herself comfortable on Paige’s bed as the older girl started rummaging through some boxes in her closet. “Here.” Paige tossed a pile of plastic wrapped packages at Azzi.

Azzi’s hands hovered over the clothes. “You sure? You haven’t even gotten the chance to wear them yourself yet.”

Paige leaned down and pressed a kiss to Azzi’s neck, letting her lips linger on the sensitive pulse point that she knew made Azzi shudder. “Stop being so unselfish all the time,” she murmured, “or I’m gonna start making out with you and we’ll never make it to the concert.”

A rosy blush fell over Azzi’s cheeks. “That doesn’t sound half bad,” she admitted, tucking an unruly strand of blonde hair behind her girlfriend’s ear.

Paige playfully bit down on Azzi’s shoulder, earning a squeal from the dark haired girl. Smirking, she drew back and punched Azzi’s shoulder. “Try the clothes on, dumbass.”

“A full Supreme outfit outfit? Really?” Azzi wrinkled her nose in the mirror as she experimented with her shirt, tucking it in and scrunching up one side to see what would look best.

“It’s gonna be cold.” Paige tossed her a puffer vest. “This would go nice with the sweats.”

Azzi shrugged on the puffer vest. Tilting her head thoughtfully in the mirror, she rolled her shirt up to above her belly button, making it look like a cropped top. “Much better.”

“You tryna make people faint?” Paige complained, eyes glued to the shiny piercing on Azzi’s stomach.

Azzi grinned, hand gesturing across her body. “You like it?”

“You know I think you look good in everything.” Paige approached Azzi from behind, hands sneakily sliding under the vest to make contact with Azzi’s bare abdomen. Paige savored the way Azzi’s muscles contracted at her touch. “But you look better in this than I would, trust.” She nestled her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, her gaze meeting brown doe eyes in the mirror. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Azzi turned and planted a kiss on Paige’s cheek. “Wanna match? You can wear your other Supreme shirt?” She smiled at Paige, that goddamn smile reserved solely for the person she loved most in the world, and Paige had seen that smile and that dimple almost every day for six years now, but she swore her knees still went weak at the sight.

Paige’s thumb brushed the expanse of Azzi’s skin, dipping just below the waistline of her pants in a slow circle. “Anything you want.”

*********

“You know I can walk just fine by myself?”

Paige’s hands ghosted Azzi’s waist for the hundredth time that night. “I know.”

Thankful that Paige was behind her and couldn’t see her face, Azzi smiled. She would never admit it, but she loved whenever Paige got unnecessarily protective whenever they were in public, guiding her through crowds with a hand firmly planted on the small of her back. Their relationship was private to the point where they could never kiss or show affection in front of other people, but this was one subtle way Paige reminded Azzi of how much she loved her, and Azzi appreciated it.

“You’re shivering.” Azzi hadn’t even noticed how cold she was until Paige pointed it out, but suddenly she could feel the late night chill in her bones despite the body heat radiating from the crowd pressed against them.

“I’m fine,” Azzi brushed her off. “I’ll go buy a hot chocolate or something later.”

“You’re gonna get sick,” Paige murmured, hand reaching out to steady Azzi as she zipped up her girlfriend’s puffer.

“Can you guys stop being cute for once?” Aubrey grumbled from behind them.

Both of them ignored her.

When she noticed how Azzi was still trying to rub her hands together for warmth, Paige immediately took off her jacket and pushed it into Azzi’s hands.

“No,” Azzi insisted, trying to give the jacket back. “You’re literally in only a shirt Paige.”

“Well, I’m not cold at all,” Paige said stubbornly, refusing to accept the jacket. “Are you forgetting I grew up in Minnesota?”

“I’m not cold anymore,” Azzi lied.

Paige cocked an eyebrow. “So your lips aren’t trembling?”

Sighing in defeat, Azzi hesitated before slipping on the black coat over her puffer. Paige smirked, adjusting the collar so that it sat comfortably on Azzi’s shoulders. “Better?” she asked softly.

Azzi nodded, glancing around before bringing Paige’s hand to her mouth and pressing a fleeting kiss to her knuckles. “If you start getting cold I’m taking this jacket off,” she warned.

“I’m actually pretty warm,” Paige said breezily. “But I wouldn’t mind some extra body heat, if you know what I mean,” she said with an exaggerated wink.

Azzi rolled her eyes, biting back a smile as she huddled closer to her girlfriend, pressing her entire body against the blonde’s. Her fingers fumbled around before finding Paige’s hand and tangling them together.

“See? Perfect.”

[taintedtort]

"stop sniffling," you heard toji‘s deep, tired voice rumble beside you, his back facing you.

"i’m sick, asshole," you mumble back, your voice stuffy and congested as you blow your nose for the nth time.

"who’s fault is that?"

you suppose he’s right. he did tell you not to go out in the snow last night, but you just wanted to walk in it for a little while. it looked so pretty!

but now here you were, up at midnight with a stuffy nose and sore throat, your sneezing and sniffling keeping toji up as well.

"i think i'm dying," you mumble dramatically, a pout on your lips as you turn to look at toji's back. you hear him sigh before he’s turning over to face you, giving you a tired and exasperated look.

"you're not dying, you'll be fine."

"i'm sorry."

"for what?"

"keeping you awake."

he rolls his eyes at your sudden apology, and you huff at the sight. you’re just trying to be nice!

"you’re such a grumpy old man," you mumble, your voice sounding congested as you can’t breathe through your nose.

"you’re a brat who doesn’t listen," he retorts dryly, too tired to deal with you and your sickness. you simply sulk at his words, knowing he’s right. you did feel bad for keeping him up, especially after he warned you not to go outside, but the memory was worth it to you.

"at least we got to play in the snow… and it’s good that only i got sick." toji stares at you for a second, an unreadable expression on his face. you blink in surprise as you see the subtle nod of his head, like he’s agreeing with you.

"the snow was alright, 's too cold though," he grumbles, rubbing at his half lidded eyes. however, you know him better than that. he definitely had fun messing around with you outside, even if he didn’t admit it.

"i’d rather me be sick than you though, i wish you weren’t," he mumbles, and you almost don’t hear it. his eyes are closed now, not being able to keep them open from the exhaustion creeping up on him.

"aww, toji! that’s so sweet—"

"cus you complain too much, 's annoying." he cuts you off, his words laced with playfulness so you know he’s just kidding.

he grunts as you shove him, though you cough right after and it makes him grin at your instant karma.

"you’re mean. i’m sick and i’m dying, you could be nicer—"

he cuts you off once again when he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. he holds you close, his chin resting atop your head.

"shut up and try to get some sleep, i'm fuckin' exhausted," he murmurs near your ear, his sleepy voice reaching your ears and making you smile.

it’s rare toji cuddles you like this, so you fully embrace it, nuzzling closer into the warmth of his chest. after a beat of silence, you hear his deep voice once again.

"if you get me sick i'll be pissed."

"asshole," you huff back, jabbing him lightly in the side, causing him to let out a strained noise from low in his throat.

"goodnight, brat."

"…night, toji." ♡

☆ this is sitting in my drafts and i wanna get rid of it, so here

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Based on all the whb kings dick size Levi is the smallest (he's 18cm which is still pretty big compared to human men but still smaller than the other kings)

so I was wondering if you could do a fic where MC teases him about it, like compares him to the other kings (you know really get his jealousy going) but he kinda likes it but acts like he doesn't and proves to MC that size doesn't matter *wink wink 😉 *

WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE how MUCH I LOVE THIS!!! Why is my new think cucking and teasing/torturing Leviathan??! (I mean he was the first card I got?)

Ok so like there’s a really funny quote that came to mind that I need to use for this but wanna share first!

So there’s SO MUCH POTENTIAL HERE!! Like he 100% doesn’t know he’s big to humans, so it’s a jab at his pride with every remark on his size bc the other kings 100% made fun of him of his ‘tiny’ cock.

(So for those who live where I do, 18cms is 7.087 inches…he’s 7 inches but 100% would make you state the exact size saying 7 inches is a ‘underestimation’)

And bc he’s so self conscious? When you were staring surprised at his size, he took it as he was ‘too small’ for you. He’d throw a fit…

(Idk when I toook this image but he’s so cute to me???)

-

Cw: slight cucking, lots of teasing, technically polycule, SDH

You couldn’t help it, Levithan was so easy to get worked up, he threw a tantrum when he realized you didn’t lose your virginity with him (despite him KNOWING you’ve needed devil energy…), and after being with Satan AND Mammon, he knows he can’t compare!

But here you were, chatting with him like you were gossiping with Paimon, while Levithan is sat in front of you, naked from the waste down, he was trying to tone out insulting remarks about his size.

“Seriously, what am I supposed to with this? After getting some prime meat from Mammon how am I supposed to use this? At least Satan is big enough to get half way in…” You say laughing a bit. It was so stupid, but Leviathan was fuming.

“Q-quit yapping, Decedent of Solomon! I’m plenty big-“ He squeals as you roughly grab his cock, squeezing it with your fingers wrapped around it, you keep squeezing until your finger touched. It was a stretch but Levithan look mortified.

“Pfft! The tiny human can wrap one hand around your cock!” You force out a laugh, but you know he can’t tell the difference. He doesn’t know your fingers are barely touching…

“No!N-no! I-it’s because I-I’m not fully aroused!” He blurts out. You can almost feel him scrambling to figure out what to say. He clears his throat as if that’s why he was stuttering. “I’m not at full mass, that’s why. It gets bigger…”

You can hear him trail off as if realizing he can’t just lie that it’ll get bigger…when he’s already dripping pre, it’s throbbing in your painful grip. You stifle your laugh.

“I’m sure it does…do you know how big Lucifer is? You looks like you got a clit in comparison!” You chuckle, you flash a toothy grin as he hisses in frustration. His cock tip is an angry red, almost matching his face! “So Levi let me ask…” You flash him toothy grin that makes him know your gonna say something…that will definitely wound his pride.

“How does it feel to know that out of all your friends, you have the smallest dick?”

Levithan’s eyes widen, he looks like you just slapped him, he even audible gasp! You almost worry you went to far but he whimper/shouts out. “T-then it’s a good thing I don’t have any friends!” He says as if that’s a better solution, he’s so worked up he’s shaking, his cock bouncing aggressively in your hand.

You laugh at that, you couldn’t hold it back, you could see shock on his face at your response, he blushes a deep red and whimpers. Finally release his cock, he loudly gasp at the sudden release of pressure, he’s so close….

“I-it doesn’t need to be big! I can show you…” Leviathan complains and quickly helps you remove your pants, using your undergarments as the only protection as he grinds against you. He keeps grinding against you, his ‘tiny’ cock rubbing against you like a personal massager.

You moaned teasingly, it felt great. “Ooh! You know how to rub it against things, that’s great, here, let me show how to use that thing…”

You pushed him down and grind against his cock, grinding down on it, it gave you little pleasure while he was clearly sensitive…

You can’t not keep teasing him! He’s clearly enjoying it with the way he’s leaking pre…

“I wonder if your subordinates are bigger than you…do you have the smallest dick in hell? You’re taker than Satan, shouldn’t your dick be bigger? Or at least less sensitive?” You tease, moving your underwear enough for his dick to tease your entrance. He loudly whines at the sight of your naked skin…

“It’s not sensitive. Humans just…don’t understand…” Leviathan trails off before looking away. “Humans are fickle things…demons enjoy the sentiment more than feeling…”

You can hear his constant pauses in his speech, he’s trying to come up with an excuse without admitting he’s…sensitive. You reach down and tease his cock head, earning a moan. “Shouldn’t humans be more sensitive then? But here we are, a demon trembling while a human grinds on his dick…what are you going to do if I tell you it’s too tiny for me to use?”

Leviathan looks like you just kicked him, he glares at you. He angles his hips, then the next slide back you feel his cock slip into you, granted your ready for it, but once sheathed into you, he seems to realize the situation. He can’t move under you, now you were just sitting in his dick…squeezing it…and he can’t do anything!

Leviathan growls. “Do something already! It’s plenty big enough for a tiny human like you! I-I can easily please any demon, now let me move…” He starts to groan and loudly complains. Out of mercy you lift your hips only enough to let him thrust into you.

As much as Leviathan wants to go fast, the angle isn’t exactly easy for him to thrust into you, he tries to voice something to you but it dies in his throat and he stops thrusting into you. He whimpers, a deep blush across his face.

“What’s wrong? Can’t even last as long as the other Kings?”

Leviathan hisses in complaint and lowers his gaze. “I don’t…know.Its…”

He whimpers and begins squirming under you, you feel him throbbing inside you…

He can take some more teasing.

-

[lnfours]

tolerate it | l.n

summary: if it’s all in my head, tell me now. tell me i’ve got it wrong somehow.

warnings: happy folklore/evermore season :) angst, language, fears of your partner falling out of love with you, slight anxiety and overthinking, fluffy ending bc i can’t make them stay mad at each other. kinda wanna do an evermore/folklore mini series, let me know if you guys would be interested <3

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the colder weather meant the sun was starting to set earlier, and it was evident as you gazed out the window, sitting at the dining room table. the candle you had lit an hour or so ago flickering softly, illuminating the room with a soft glow as the gloomy sky hovered above.

you sighed to yourself, taking another sip from the wine glass that sat next to your plate. you tapped on your phone screen, lighting up and displaying the time and the picture you had set as your lock screen. the 5:30 hovering tauntingly above the picture of you and lando from a few months back, your smile wide and trying to hide it in his shoulder as he held his camera to the mirror. he was sporting a smile also, you could almost hear your shared giggles through the photo.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago, and nights like this were happening more often. he’d always be an hour to an hour and a half late getting home. it was always an apology, saying ‘training ran late’ or the quadrant shoot ‘ran on longer than it was supposed to’, you’d see him for fifteen minutes while the two of you ate dinner, and then he’d go off to the office until he decides to join you in bed later in the night.

at first, you didn’t complain, knowing he was a man with a busy schedule, but after almost two months of this same song and dance, your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what if he was out with someone else? what if he was slowly losing interest in you? what if he just tolerates you?

the sound of the door closing pulled you from your thoughts, snapping your head up as you heard footsteps enter the room. he placed his keys, wallet and phone on the counter, frowning softly.

“sorry i’m late,” here we go again, “i told max i needed to be home by 4 and he insisted we played another round before i left.”

you nodded, taking another sip from the glass on your right, “‘s fine.”

he watched you swallow thickly, tilting your head to look back out the window. he noticed the way your hand tapped against your arm softly, his eyes moving to the plates set on the table. your grandmother’s china.

his heart dropped when he thought back to your conversation the other night, him saying the two of you would have a proper sit down meal tonight since he felt bad for running late lately.

and he just fucked it all up even more.

“you don’t have to lie,” he said, making you advert your attention back to him, “i know you know it’s not fine.”

you shook your head, “what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

he knew he deserved the digs and jabs you were sending his way, “seriously, lando, if you’re not interested in me anymore just say it instead of making me play this stupid game.”

the silence that fell between the two of you after was the final blow. he watched your cheeks glisten in the soft candle light, and fuck, he hated seeing you cry. especially when it was because of him.

he didn’t know what to say as your chair scraped the floor, getting up from your spot at the table and picking up your plate. the food untouched as you grabbed the saran wrap from the pantry.

he heard your quiet sniffle, “i’m so sorry, y/n-“

“then where have you been the past two months?” he blinked back at you before you continued, “every single day it’s the same, overused excuse. so, what is it really, lando? enlighten me.”

he swallowed because he didn’t have answer that didn’t sound like he was making an excuse. he really had been busy with work, but he knew he could’ve done better with planning to make more time for you and him.

you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but you were upset. you were angry and sad and all you wanted was for him to come home and spend time together like the two of you used to do. but it was like it was too much to ask for.

of course you knew what you were signing up for when he took you on your very first date, but you didn’t know it would mean being put on the back burner, begging to be let in on the things going on his life.

his silence made you nod, “right,”

he reached out to you slowly, not sure how you would react. you bit down on your bottom lip, the dam breaking now as he stepped towards you.

“y/n,” he said your name softly, understanding that your lash-outs were because of men who had hurt you in the past, knowing too well what it felt like when anxiety and over thinking takes over. he couldn’t be mad at you, he just wanted to make things right. make you feel reminded that he loved you. more than racing, more than his friends, more than anything in the whole world.

the back of your hands were raised to your eyes when he grabbed them and pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his chest. you gave in, knowing that at the end of the day, he was your safe place. your shoulder to cry on, the one who always saw you in your most vulnerable stages. there was no getting past him with this one.

your hands wrapped around his middle loosely as you cried softly into his chest. he rested his head against yours, rubbing your back the same way he always did whenever he’d comfort you. his lips pressed against your hair before he grabbed your face gently, lifting your chin to have you look at him.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, eyes searching yours and that’s when you realized he had been crying too, “i’m gonna talk to my trainer and the guys and tell them i need a little bit of a break, and you and i are gonna spend every single day together doing whatever you want.”

you felt selfish now, “but this is your job, lan,”

“i don’t care,” he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand to hold your cheek, “they’ll be fine if i take a few days off.”

your hand came up to mimic his on your cheek, your fingers brushing against the small moles on his face. the same ones your lips press against whenever you kiss his face. the pads of your thumbs brushed away the small tear lingering around his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for being cold to the boy who loved you like no other.

“don’t apologize,” he said, “i should’ve done better. you don’t deserve to feel like you’re on the back burner of my life.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. you looked back out the window, the light from the golden hour sun shining on the trees in the backyard. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, “i love you.”

you smiled softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. your smile making his lips turn up into one mirroring yours, “i love you, too.”

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, a mixture of the wine you had with dinner and the salty tears you had cried a few moments prior with the subtle hint of your chapstick.

you both pulled away, him taking you by surprise when he lifted you off the ground. you squealed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you clung onto his hoodie for dear life.

“lando!” you laughed, letting him carry you to the couch and thanking yourself for putting his dinner plate in the fridge earlier.

you had your boy back.

[augustjustice]

Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together), 2/2

AO3

Part 1

"Somebody had better be on fire," Steve says, jabbing a warning finger in the direction of four slack-jawed faces. 

"You weren't answering your walkie," Dustin replies mechanically. He holds up his own in explanation, the motion jerky, as though he's operating on autopilot. "Either of you."

"Yeah, well," Steve swings out an arm dramatically, encompassing the both of them. "We're fine. You can see that we're fine.” 

Eddie wiggles his fingers at them as if to demonstrate, the wave distressingly similar to the one Steve uses when he’s just been caught and is trying to look disarming and harmless.

“So can you go now?"

“Yeah,” Eddie darts a look over to Steve, the corner of his mouth twitching, “Harrington and I have got some…business we’re looking to finish up here.”

Max can’t manage to hold back her snort, though it doesn’t really look like she was trying all that hard.

“Oh, yeah, whatever you two have been up to looked super professional a couple minutes ago,” she comments wryly.

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Were you guys seriously spying on us? You have got to be shitting me. I expected better from…" his gaze grazes over the teens standing there one-by-one, seemingly dismissing each of them in turn before finally landing on– "Lucas! I expected better from you of all people, Sinclair. Thought you knew how to mind your business, unlike the rest of these nosy little menaces."

"Hey!" Mike and Dustin protest simultaneously.

Max, for her part, looks completely unaffected, and furthermore not even a little guilty.

Lucas points to her.

"Where my lady goes, I too must follow."

"Aww, that's sweet," Eddie comments, completely sincere as he looks between the two of them. Then he reaches over and smacks Steve lightly on the shoulder. "How come you don't ever say romantic shit like that to me, Harrington?"

Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're not helping."

"Wasn't trying to, sunshine," Eddie's smile remains, wide and mischievous. "Still doesn't answer my question."

"I dove through a portal to the Upside Down for you!"

"That was just you and your big damn hero shtick, don't act like that was about me. Besides, I'm the one who literally followed you into hell."

Steve's expression suddenly takes on a sly, triumphant edge.

"So you admit it, then. It was romantic when you did it!"

"No no no, I didn’t say that. I confess to nothing, good sir!"

Their banter is only disrupted by Mike’s spluttering. 

“You–you and Steve?!” he squeaks, seeming no less blindsided than he had been when he suspected it was Nancy in the car. “It’s weird enough having to watch you guys be friends, but–”

"Oh, we're real friendly now," Eddie drawls, shooting Steve a wink and a dimpled grin. "Isn't that right, Harrington?"

"Shut up," Steve complains, giving Eddie's shoulder a shove, but everyone present can see the way he ducks his head, a smile twitching helplessly at the corner of his mouth.

As a collective, the party–even Mike–shoot each other a series of pointed looks, communicating telepathically the way close friends sometimes do. They've all seen Steve in date mode more times than they care to count, but have they ever seen him look so…flustered?

And as some of the initial shell shock starts to wear off, Dustin’s expression begins to morph into something almost…smug.

"I would just like to point out…" he says in typical, sanctimonious fashion, "that I told you both you’d really get along if you just got to know each other."

Max snorts again.

"What, by sticking their tongues down each other's throats?"

The look on her face holds nothing but amusement, which is a relief, though Steve's not sure how he feels about the mischievous glee that accompanies it.

"No!" Dustin protests, embarrassment tinging his face. "Not that I care about that, just–I'm just saying I told you so!"

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Dusty Buns,” Eddie sing-songs.

“Right?!” Steve cuts a look across to Eddie. “The mouth on this kid, I swear. How’d he turn out to be such a little smart ass?”

The way Eddie’s lips twitch suggests he’s seconds away from laughing. “Our terrible influence, probably.” 

“That must be it.”

“Never mind, I take it back. I regret everything, and I’m sorry I ever introduced the two of you.”

Steve and Eddie dart a glance at each other, exchanging quick, shit-eating grins.

“But, I mean, that’s not even accurate. You did not introduce us, I’ve known who Eddie was literally for years,” Steve has to protest when he turns back to the kids, partially because it is true, and partially because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna give Dustin the satisfaction, not after the night he’s had. 

“Yeah, cuz I used to sell at all your fancy little shindigs.”

“Not just because of that. Don’t know how to tell you this, Munson, but you’re kinda hard to miss.”

Eddie gawps at him.

“Are you suggesting that King Steve paid attention to little ole me? You’ve made my year, Stevie, truly you have.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m honestly not really sure how anybody could miss you with all those big speeches of yours. Pretty annoying, to be honest.”

“Nah, you liiiiike me,” Eddie taunts. He reaches out, as if he’s about to pinch at one of Steve’s cheeks, but Steve manages to dodge out of the way with his fine-tuned athletic reflexes, batting Eddie’s hand away.

“Well, I think it’s nice,” Lucas pipes up, before the pair of them can fall into their flirtatious back-and-forth again, deliberately shooting Mike a pointed look.

“Thank you, Sinclair,” Steve says. “At least somebody around here has manners.” 

“I still think it’s gross,” Mike mutters.

“And just why is that, Little Wheel?” Eddie asks, lifting one warning eyebrow. “Cuz me and Harrington are both guys?”

“No! Because it’s Steve!” Mike flings out his arms, gesturing to him in disbelief. “First my sister, and then Wi–whu-women! The women of Hawkins, and now you, too?! He’s a jock! What do you even see in him??”

“Wow, thanks a lot, Wheeler,” Steve says, deadpan.

As Lucas lets out a soft, protesting hey! of his own, Max twines her arm tightly around his, glaring daggers at Mike.

“The Munson doctrine’s undergone some pretty heavy revisions, the past few months,” Eddie tugs a strand of hair towards his mouth, shooting Steve a fond look. “Are there some shitty jocks out there? Sure. But there’s plenty more who aren’t. I was a dickhead, to act like we were natural born enemies, or some shit. Assholes are assholes, and we shall judge them accordingly, regardless of creed.”

“Yeah, Mike. Don’t be a jackass like Munson,” Max challenges, grin sharp. 

“Mayfield…” Steve warns with a groan, but Eddie only laughs. 

“Nah, she’s right, Stevie.” Reaching forward, he ruffles Mike’s hair. “Listen to Red–she’s a smart lady–and don’t make the same mistakes as me, Wheeler.”

Mike scoffs, but falls silent, looking suitably chastised. 

Steve squints at them, then, looking both suspicious and curious. "Wait. How the hell did you guys get out here, anyway?"

"We rode. Bikes," Lucas thumbs over his shoulder up into the trees, where their bicycles still lay abandoned. 

"Seriously?" Steve huffs. Running a hand through his hair, he finally gets out of the car, rounding it as he pops open the trunk. "Just…get in the damn car."

"What, in the trunk?" Max asks, just to be a smartass, but the look Steve cuts her tells her he is not having it this evening. She holds up her hands in surrender. "Kidding, I was only kidding. Jeez."

A fair amount of bike wrangling later, the four of them pile into the Beemer’s backseat, packing in tight like a can of sardines. 

“How come Eddie gets shotgun?” Dustin whines in protest just as one of Mike’s sharp elbows digs into his side.

“One,” Steve actually literally begins to tick off on his fingers, not even bothering to turn around, “because you guys are annoying the shit out of me right now, no way one of you rascals gets to ride up front. And two,” he holds up his middle finger deliberately, “boyfriend privileges.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up at the declaration, a toothy smile creasing his face. But there’s something soft around the edges of it, even as he deliberately leans into Steve’s face.

“I’m your boyfriend, Stevie?”

“Well–yeah. Duh, of course you are,” Steve splutters, two bright spots of pink blooming on his cheeks, “I mean–unless you didn’t want–not if you’re not–”

Eddie presses a finger against Steve’s lips, silencing him with a shushing sound.

“No take backs now, Harrington. I’m your boyfriend. Said so yourself.”

“You’re gonna be really insufferable about this, aren’t you?” Once again, Steve’s smile really undercuts his put upon sigh.

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

“Ew!” Mike protests at the same moment Dustin squawks, “Don’t talk about his ass! There are children present!”

“Really, Henderson? Children?” Steve finally cranes to look at them over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up sardonically. “That’s not what you said last week, when you tried to talk me into buying you beer.”

“You tell ‘em, sweetheart!”

Max rolls her eyes. “Can we please just go? Preferably before you two and your sickening sweetness gives me a cavity?”

And their bickering doesn’t quiet the entire ride back into the neighborhoods of Hawkins.

---

As they pull up in front of their first stop of the night–the Wheelers and the Sinclairs–Steve catches Eddie’s eye, then turns to face the four teens in the backseat again. 

“Look, before you get out,” he starts, stilling Lucas and Mike, each with a hand on their respective door handles, “I just wanted to say…it’s cool, you know, that you guys worry. I get it. But, we’re all okay now. Yeah?”

“What were you doing out by Lover’s Lake?” Dustin asks, a hint of an accusation in his voice. 

“Other than the obvious, like we tried to tell you?” Max snarks back. 

“That one’s on me, Henderson,” Eddie raises a hand, like he’s just been reluctantly called on in class. “Supply run. We decided to make a night of it.”

Both Dustin and Mike’s faces screw up at the way Eddie waggles his eyebrows suggestively, while Max simply elbows Dustin in admonishment from her perch on Lucas’s lap.

“But, no need to worry, kiddos. I’ve got Harrington, now. I’ll protect him from the big bad world,” Eddie winks as Steve shoots him an exasperated but fond look.

“What I’m trying to say,” Steve starts pointedly, steering the conversation back on track, “is maybe it’s time we, I don’t know–stopped worrying so much, and let ourselves be stupid teenagers for a while? That goes for you guys, too.” He wags a finger at them. “But not too stupid, okay? I’m still responsible for you shitheads.”

As a collective, they sigh out, We know, Steve, before Lucas and Mike finally climb out of the car. 

But, despite their show of annoyance, as Steve and Eddie drop them off one-by-one, watching until they each make it inside, the party members all arrive home secure in the knowledge that these days the lake is just a lake, their babysitter and dungeon master safe. And maybe, just maybe, the four of them sleep a little sounder in their beds that night, realizing they might finally get the chance to be stupid teenagers, too, with nothing more than too nosey friends out there waiting for them in the dark.

[enluv]

(almost) six missed chances.

pairing: park jongseong x mentioned fem!reader

wc: 796

synopsis: in which jay can count all the missed chances he’s had with you on one hand, until he can’t.

genre: volleyball player!jay, pure fluff, light teasing (menace heeseung), and a lovesick jay!!

one evening he watches as you sit two tables infront of from him, chatting excitedly with your friend about your weekend plans. jay thinks he’d like to go out with you for the weekend too, only if you’d let him, but the professor starts class before he can think to ask.

“maybe if you asked instead of staring at her all class, she’d agree to go out with you.” his friend playfully chastises as he watches jay’s eyes never leave your form.

“shut up.” he mumbles back, quickly averting his gaze away onto his book.

two small waves are sent his way, and he feels like he’s seeing things. did he really see that right? had you seriously waved at him? him? as he himself? jay park? you knew he existed? his smile beams.

“dude why didn’t you wave back? that was so awkward! I had to do it for you! are you seriously that in love that you can’t even fathom waving back to her?” heeseung scoffs, pulling at his friends arm to guide him through the sea of students getting out of class.

it’s in that moment jay realizes, he didn’t wave back.

three times he’s seen you here now, it could be a coincidence but heeseung swears you’ve never come in before. he taunts that you’ve only started coming since jay started, and his heart races at the thought.

“you’re like a lovesick puppy, an idiot really!” heeseung scolds watching his friend shamelessly admire you from afar.

“she looks really pretty today, brown is pretty on her.” he mumbles mostly to himself, moving around useless items on the counter.

“you’re sick!” heeseung yells as he swats jay away to finish taking orders.

four boys sit at a table complaining about their classes, volleyball season is among them and their schedules are tight, fitting in time with one another outside of practice is hard, lunches are sacred. a jab to his side brings him out of his endless thoughts.

“are you tired or something? you haven’t said a word to us since we sat down,” asks one of his friends.

“maybe that spike to the head really got him, do you need to see the team medic or something?” dotes another.

“he isn’t hurt idiots, he’s just in love. he does this in class too, stares at the wall imagining it’s his girlfriend,” heeseung points out, rolling his eyes at jay’s behavior, he’d witnessed it so many times before.

“she’s not my girlfriend!”

“but you want her to be!”

“please ask her out soon, I’m tired of you drooling over her in class, seriously dude all you can see is the back of her head, what’s so pretty about that?”

“everything about her is pretty…” he trails off, once again daydreaming.

five whistles blow to signal the stop of practice, jay huffs in annoyance. right before the whistle he was sure he would land his serve. the same one he’d been working to perfect since the season started.

“i have an announcement boys, you’ve whined to me so much about getting ya’ a team manager so I finally did it! don’t say I never do anything for you all cause I did this so don’t ask for nothin’ else!” the boys look between one another, some in confusion, others in excitement.

he’s sure his eyes are playing tricks on him, cheeks flushed bright red from practice and now as he watches you walk in, this has to be a some kind of sweet sick mirage.

“this is your new team manager brats, be nice to her or I’ll keep you on the sidelines, I mean it! if she quits because yer messin’ with her I’ll spike a ball to yer head,” his playful threat falls flat on the ears of the team, they all stare in awe at their newest team manager.

“looks like you might have some competitionnnnn,” heeseung sings as he walks past jay, shaking his head at his friend who is still staring in disbelief.

“fuck no.”

six boys, one coach, and a number of others watch him as he strides across the gym, the confidence oozing from his stature quickly diminishing as he stops right in front of you.

“i think you’re really pretty, and smart, and so fucking funny, it’s been killing me ever since I first saw you, you’re all I think about, day and night! and I know you don’t know me but you could get to know me, if you go out with me on a date!” he’s stumbling the words out, no amount of practice sessions in his bathroom mirror had prepared him for this moment, it’s all too surreal.

“oh finally,” his eyes widen in confusion at your words, “i thought you’d never ask.”

coco’s love note: firstly, thank you @malarign for reading it over for me hehe I love you bae!! 🤍 and secondly, this is my first post in a while and on top of that I’m currently stuck with a cold so please show it some love if you enjoy it 🥺 feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

enhypen taglist — @yeoforce @bloom-bloom-pow @nikis-mum @yourlocalhotgf @kyublr @spoooooooooooon @enhacolor @yoongimooni @blaqpinksthectic @gyuuss @eternallyhyucks @dinosdance @simpforsung @misschubswrites @junityy @jjunry @jwonsgirl @fxckingshame @stealanity @haoreo @jxp1t-3r @chaerybae @bobariki @vatterie @tytrackfebreze @veryjeongintxtkid @w3bqrl @heefys @haechan-nahceah @queen-klarissa @odxrilove @s00buwu @j-wyoung @jiawji

[trendywaifus]

Awhahah Nicole makes me wanna (s)cream imagine her being in charge and her liking being called boss

nicole loves to be in charge, she is the leader of the infamous cunning hares after all and she has a big ass ego. in private though, that proud facade of hers becomes a little flimsy to temptation—especially when you’re submissive under her. cw: gn with a dick, teasing, foot job, girlfailure and girlboss nicole!

“ where’s all that talk now, huh? “

the heel of nicole’s foot meanly digs into the growing tent in your pants. laid out on your back near the end of her bed, legs hanging from the mattress, you squirm and groan in a mix of pain and pleasure. your back arches, hips shamelessly buckling to the dry friction of her bare foot. cheeks red, nicole sneers at your groaning, resting her hands on her hips. “ y-you can’t bark about how you would be the better leader of the cunning hares and all it took for you to submit was by me doing this, “ nicole adds more pressure to your bulge, provoking a loud half-moan from you. what a loser you are, complaining and jabbing at her leadership because of some stupid ass agent not giving detailed considerations for the commission. they nearly got ambushed by hollows because of him, not her.

you’re such a loser—a loser who looks easy to take apart with just the work of her hands. a loser who would look so appetizing submissive and begging for her forgiveness. although the thought of it stokes her ego, nicole can’t help but feel embarrassed and intrigued; does she stop here?—how far can she go?

“ ni-nicole—“

“ that’s boss to you, (name)! remember that with that thick skull of yours. don’t you dare question my leadership again, got it? “ nicole spat, roughly sliding her bare foot up and down the print of your dick. she swallows thickly at the feeling of you twitching against her foot. you let out an wet whine, “ b-boss, i-i understand, please stopp. .”

“ apologize. i want to hear an apology from my employee. “

nicole applies a tad bit of pressure on the clothed head of your cock, you let out a sharp breath. mind going static with pleasure, a loose string of apologies spill out from your wet lips.

“ i’m s’sorry, boss, i-i didn’t mean itt, i swearr i’m sorryyy, “ nicole rubs her foot back down to the base, your jaw tenses before it parts open for a strained moan to slip out. shaky fingers reach downward as you attempt to remove nicole’s foot away from your throbbing sex.

“ don’t you dare touch my foot, (name). “ your boss snarls and you whimper, hands falling down to grip the sheets again.

“ but if y-you keep doing this—i’ll—!”

“ tell me that you’re my loyal employee and i’ll stop.”nicole demands haughtily, crossing her arms. chest panting, you lick your lips, half-lidded, desperate eyes staring up at her. damn, you look so good while being pathetic like this. if she wasn’t clinging so much to her self-control right now, she’d pounce on you and really make you beg for it.

“ i-i’m your loyal employee—“

nicole presses harder while languidly stroking you with her foot. you let out a loud mewl. she feels her chest getting heavy with temptation, the hot sensation of arousal swirling downwards.

“ say it louder, i want to hear it. “

“ i’m y-your loyal employee! “ you slur, feeling your orgasm reaching its peak. “ i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yours, bossss— “

your mind becomes an empty canvas, white spots obscuring your vision as you cream in your jeans. hazel eyes closely observed the wet patch forming in your crotch area. despite the wet, slick feeling against her heel, she doesn’t pull away and instead, releases most of the pressure from your constrained member. she strokes you in a soothing pace to assist you with your high—as a reward for taking your punishment, of course.

you’re laid out boneless on her bed, shirt deliciously riding up your stomach, a dazed expression sitting on your face—god, you’re so. .

a practiced smug smile tugs at her pink lips as she finally removes her foot away. she instinctively squeeze her thighs together while she gives you a warning. “ that’s more like it. wasn’t so hard, was it, my loyal employee? next time, don’t piss me off or you’ll get much worse. “

if only you knew nicole was half-bluffing. .

[shawty-writes-a-little]

don’t ever let go

꒰ erik lensherr x fem!reader ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

.𖥔 ݁ 🪐˖ word count: 2.2k+

⌞ plot: sort of hurt comfort when erik finds his rather irritable posing s/o going through a nightmare ⌝

warnings: nightmares, angst sort of (fluff end dw)?

People with contradictory world view and general thinking are bound to be engaged in petty disagreements. As strongly opinionated as Erik was he never got along with one certain mutant. Erik and y/n, always fighting, at each other’s throats. Most times they were rather entertaining scene creators at the Xavier’s institute, clashes were famous with the most colourful language used amongst the students. However Charles grew tired of this, best minds he knew were always bickering and fighting. Petty fights and little grudges turn ugly if pit against each other on battleground. God forbid that situation ever arises but Charles bad seen enough falling apart within his own to know how much could go wrong.

So, to get them along he paired the two to gather intel on some government bills at the procession gala held at Berlin. He was persuasive but not god, after all it was the hardest task in the world to get erik and y/n sit for dinner at the same table let alone go halfway across the world and pose as a couple, stay in one place and not blow cover? Charles came with the most believable persuading story as he could, lied the Oval Office asked for the two to specifically attend the mission this and that and it was a long afternoon trying to convince the two but the professor won in the end.

-

That is how Erik and her ended up in Berlin, the moment they were alone, not posing anymore their smiles and in-love act completely dropped. Shutting the hotel door behind him Erik sighed. It was a whole week of these galas and charity events, back from their first one and y/n was already growing tired of Erik. “You know I kind of hated how you manhandled me back there.” She complained as she leaned on the wall for support and removed her heels.

“What?” He asked confused as he removed his blazer and draped it on the sofa chair “What are you talking about I did no such thing” he said not exactly recalling anything like that.

“You said something to that senator in French and then grabbed me close to you to kiss my forehead like I was on the run from you-who does that?” Y/n said, she didn’t speak French so she didn’t understand what the conversation was on about regardless the moment she recalled, she wasn’t even standing that far away for him for him to yank her close to him like that.

“A husband?” Erik said raising brows as he exaggerated in obviousness removing his cufflinks.

“With the grace of a woodcutter?” She scoffed as she rolled her eyes at him, it’s not like she minded that, the two posed like that the entire night at the event it’s just that erik would time and time loose his cool and she didn’t want any casualties further into these galas “it would look like I’m your hostage instead of wife can’t you try and look gentler somehow?”

“You just made that up.” Erik said as he shook his head disregarding her suggestion “The senator made a rather vulgar comment about you in French by the way, instead of adding to it I held you close. Would you rather I laugh along with him and appear rather crass?”

“you can try but you can’t really change what you are” Y/n mumbled with a stifled chuckle at her own jab as she stood by the dressing table mirror removing her jewellery.

“I heard that.” He responded giving her a disappointed look but she just laughed at it anyways. He changed out of his shirt as they’d conversed. Not engaging in silly debates anymore y/n went to the adjoining bathroom to change out of her dress.

Erik worked on gathering some background on the guests of the events they’d met and conversed with, information in context of intel they had so far whilst y/n updated Charles via a long email, two emails, one of the intel and other how much insufferable Erik was.

Their third day in Berlin went remotely same, night however was about to be different. Y/n was settling their bed, the first two nights they took turns on the sofa but it turned out to be very uncomfortable to sleep in so they decided to share the bed. Erik glanced up from his laptop as y/n was setting up a pillow wall on the bed “That is so childish.” He commented.

“Yeah yeah” y/n said as she rolled her eyes, making clear partition of the bed. “Do not invade my side alright?”

Erik couldn’t help but laugh at the use of ‘invade’ “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He said as he turned his attention back to the laptop. He decided to stay up rather late that night even after y/n retreated to bed. He would joke that it was easier to work after she was sleep and before she was awake as if he secretly didn’t hate the absence her ramblings brought.

An hour or so had passed, Y/n was sound asleep as he decided to wind up. He left to clean the desk, brush his teeth and wind down. When he came to bed he was met with y/n mumbling in her sleep, tossing and turning on her side of the bed.

His gaze softened when he realised she might be going through a nightmare. It seemed difficult, whatever she was seeing, he couldn’t understand her words but he caught a few pleading syllables here and there. “y/n…hey wake up” he cooed softly as he tried to wake her up, he gently placed his hands on her shoulder. “Hey-you’re just dreaming y/n…wake up.” He spoke and she got up almost instantly, breathing heavily.

She sat up trying to get used to the surroundings again, always the same thing. She hated when those dreams resurfaced revolving around her most despised horror. Erik had heard from Charles of what she’d been through when she was new, he didn’t know she was impacted to this scale. “Are you alright?” His voice arose another bad feeling inside of her. She didn’t want to be perceived as a weakling in front of him. When they’d argue he’d often call her that, not that she wouldn’t call him worse back but she would hate if he found out about this ordeal. She didn’t want to appear weak.

Getting out of the bed hurriedly she rushed to the table stand, feeling a bit dizzy after how fast she stood up and how fast she was trying to comprehend everything. She tried to pour herself a glass of water shakily. Her train of thoughts ran as she tried not to have a break down, her heart beat fast from the visuals of the nightmare still fresh in her mind. Erik was quick to pace up to her “Hey look at me” he spoke taking the jug of water out of her hands given she was struggling to pour it properly.

“Are you alright?” Erik repeated his question and he could note how she was still too shaken to answer correctly and fine enough.

“Y-yeah-“ she could muster out as she tried to level her breathing which didn’t seem to work apparently.

“Y/n.” He spoke leaning lower to meet her eyes since she avoided eye contact with him, “look at me” he spoke as he placed comforting hands by biceps to hold her upright. “Deep breaths with me, come on.” He spoke as he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He rubbed her back as she was still slightly trembling guiding her to breathe evenly.

After a few moments when she tried to fake the best proper composure she could she nodded, “I’m alright thanks” she said very softly afraid she might tear up any moment. Ever so tired and scared of her recurring nightmares, just when she thought it was getting better. Why would it not leave her alone? Why couldn’t she move past it?

Erik wasn’t a mind reader but the look on her face read enough for him at the moment, “y/n” he sighed “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I said it’s fine-“ she said with an exhale however her breaking voice and avoiding stare said something else. She couldn’t hold it back anymore as the brimming tears surfaced out of her eyes. She held her head in her hands weeping into them. Erik didn’t say anything as he wrapped his arm around her in a comforting manner, “I-I’m not this soft alright I’m not-I’m not weak” she told him like she had to justify her crying.

“Hey hey hey-“ he cooed as he pulled away just to see her face again, “who says you’re weak? This is completely alright.” He reasoned with her as she cried.

“No I—I just-“ she didn’t exactly know how well she could phrase this out for him. How much terrified she was of what she kept seeing in her dream, from her past, haunting her again and again and how much she didn’t want him to think she was this much of a mess.

“You are not weak, y/n. You are anything but weak. It’s difficult going through a nightmare but you’re really strong, you made out of it see” he talked to her patiently in a very encouraging manner as he wiped her tears with his sleeve.

“It felt so real-“ she choked up as she tried her best to stop crying, Erik took her into his arms, giving her a hug as he spoke sweet nothings to him.

She cried and trembled in his arms unable to speak coherently until she soothed her crying, he held her throughout it. “I am just so tried Erik…” she said as he pulled away to look at her face.

He removed the hair in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear, “is it always this bad?” He asked her, feeling really awful how much she’d had gone through already and even then in sleep she wasn’t left alone of it. Y/n nodded as she wiped the tears off her face, she wasn’t so phased by ‘this’ bad given she was used to them now.

“Is it frequent?” He asked, his softened gaze holding her trouble one.

“Not as frequent but-it comes and goes, I just can’t escape it.” She said with a dejected sigh. “I am used to it I just wish I was—properly used to it. I wish I wasn’t this affected…”

“Nobody should have to be used to this y/n it’s difficult, really difficult.” He told her as he held her hands in his softly. “It’s bound to affect you, in the worst way it’s made you…you. Surely doesn’t define you but it defines your strength, your courage. You are truly strong.”

“But I’m afraid Erik” she told him looking away, “I am exhausted of being this afraid.”

“And that’s fine.” He replied holding her hands in his a little tighter to impose the exaggeration of his words, “It takes strength to keep going, even more to be afraid and still keep going and you have done that job very well y/n.” He spoke as he kissed her forehead with a comforting smile adorning his face, reflecting how proud he was she made it through. “Let me help you?”

Y/n took a deep breath as she nodded, she felt rather safe in his help. In his presence and his touch, it was as comforting as it was safe. He helped her through that night, holding her close staying awake until she eventually fell asleep in his arms and he didn’t want to ever let go.

—

HIIII I hope you have a good day pls pls pls let me know if anyone wants to read more erik pieces! Requests are open too🕺

Feed back is desperately appreciated :)

Go drink water. Now. Or you will stub your toe in a corner in the next 10 seconds.

[cattlemons]

hi :)) a bit of a personal request but could i get wanderer comfort for a fem or g/n reader? (your choice) i have a...difficult relationship with my father. when he's sad/angry/upset he usually takes his frustration out on me by yelling at me and calling me names and other hurtful things. then when i cry he tells me that I'm pretending to be a victim, and blames me entirely for his feelings. i just had a sitution like this earlier tonight so its on my mind :) anyway, could i get wanderer comfort for a situation like this? or if this is too specific maybe where reader just doesn't get along with their father? thanks sm <33333

A Salve For Unhealed Wounds

TW: Toxic dad, name calling by a parental figure, emotional distress and familial conflict, crying in public, there's a swear word in there, 1,5k words

a.n. Nonnie, sorry for the wait :( I had an exam and couldn't be on here at all (also left you a short message at the bottom)

It happened again. 

The man you were supposed to trust with your life yelled at you again. Your heart aches at the implication that the weight of his love for you changes depending on the emotion reigning his mind and heart. Your mind crumbles when it recollects the words he spat out so easily when red paints his iris. 

It wouldn’t have hurt as much if he’s always this way. It hurts because you’ve seen the smile that escapes his guarded heart on rare occasions. You’ve also heard him say good things and do good deeds the way an honorable man would–when he’s not mad that is.

It’s unfair that he can’t always be that way with you.

You took off towards the Puspa Cafe, hoping the bustle of Sumeru evening would be the cooling salve you need to soothe your battered mood. 

Yeah, that’s a good idea.

Entering the establishment, scents of coffee and spice filled your nostrils as ease settled between the spaces of your bones. The balmy yellow and brown hues greeted your weary state as the inviting warmth of the cinders burning in the oven beckons you to rest. You made the right call to come here tonight.

Or, so you thought.

Despite being on good terms with the otherwise lonesome man, you did not want to see the infamous hat guy; not tonight. It’s less about his presence and more about yours. The dynamic between the two of you is akin to that of a flying serpent and a scorpion. You’d take frequent jabs at each other, flinging teasing remarks and poking fun at one another but somehow, in a very weird roundabout way, there’s always a sincere sort of care behind it all. 

Right now, however, you don’t think you have it in you to take what you know he can dish. You did get lucky and got a secluded seat, you just hope he does not notice you here. 

“What are you doing here, prickly bush,” he called out to you just as your train of thought chugged away to somewhere beyond the oak doors of the cafe.

Right, so much for peace of mind.

You turn towards him, the frown that began dissipating moments ago returning in full force. Grumbling before speaking, you let out, “Not today, please, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh yeah, someone’s definitely a prickle bush right now.”

You were at a crossroads between telling him to leave and bursting into tired tears when he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your eyebrows scrunched as he sat across you. You looked at him but his eyes were trained away from you, staring at some other patron sitting at the wooden bar just a bit away from the both of you. 

Since when was he a caring man?

Your thoughts and confusion settle into a prolonged silence. You half expected him to grumble out an insult along the lines of “Are your ears clogged” or “Need help finding a hearing aid” but he, surprisingly, sat still; eyes now hopping over to a woman by the door having a conversation with a balding man. 

Is he patient now? What kind of patron-saint bullshit is he pulling?

Not that you’re complaining, though. You much prefer this despite the weirdness of it all; or rather the newness. 

“I’m fine–”

“Don’t lie, if you can’t lie,” he interrupts as he points at your fingers curling in on each other. 

He sure is perceptive when you don’t want him to be.

Silent gathers the both of you in its arms once more as you think of a response to give to him. He’s being kind right now but you don’t feel like divulging everything to him. Your friendship is just beginning to stand on two feet. It’s taking baby steps at best. You don’t want to scare him away by dumping all your shit on him. By the abyssal name, he probably carries more baggage than you and you don’t see him throwing them around.

“You don’t have to tell me, don’t get all constipated just because I asked,” he said before continuing even softer, “You seemed down, just thought it’d be helpful to ask.”

Though you did not notice it at the time, your heart slowly began to lay down the walls you raised from the events that transpired earlier under the roof of your father’s house. 

Perhaps, he can help.

The wanderer was about to take his leave when you whispered with a certain weariness he found familiar, “My father isn’t always a nice man.”

He sat back down as quickly as he could. He probably sat on one of the ornate hanging detailings of his hat or on that long sleeve of his but he couldn’t be bothered by it. Though his eyes look past you, you know his focus is solely on what you have to say.

So, you told him. At first, you tried to be as close to the baseline as possible, choosing to speak of the basic details but soon you choked up and told him everything. Your thoughts, your fears, even your longing for a better version of the father you wanted to look up to, bubbled out of your tired heart. As the night sky grows darker outside, you find yourself slightly teary-eyed as your long story comes towards its end. 

Your eyes were still on your hands that laid on your lap, palms now sweaty from excessive nervous rubbing. You stole a glance at him and, just like you, he barely moved from his previous position. He’s still not looking at you, almost like he’s not listening at all but you know he is. 

It took a beat or two, almost like he was waiting to see if you had more to say before he opened his mouth to speak. 

“You’re kind, you know?”

What?

“I don’t get it. What do you mean ‘I’m kind’?”

“Just that. You’re kind, maybe even too kind.”

You fully looked up at him now to see that his eyes were already on you. 

“I listened to you tell me about the horrible things that man says to you and, yet, you still call him by a title he doesn’t deserve,” before you can question him, he answers, “A dad.”

You’re silent as he continues, “This cruel world decides to give him something so precious and he decides to lie and say all these shitty things. He’s not a good man but he’s dumb too if he’s got something so precious and decides that the best course of action is to call it untrue names. Does he not realize the power a name holds?”

Wet droplets stain your hands and lap as tears fall from your eyelids, lungs heavy, and muscles sagging. 

Taking a look at his surroundings he sighs before taking his hat off and placing it on you.

“I’m sure you don’t want anyone seeing you like this and speaking about it tomorrow, here.”

The tenderness of his voice and action winds your heart up as more choked sobs gurgle out of your throat.

Your neck tightens in protest as you try to speak but you fight the pain of your contracting muscles as you force out, “On a good day I… I know that he's lying… but sometimes I can’t help but think he’s right,” you sniffled and let a wave of uncontrollable sobs pass you by before continuing, “I mean there’s only so much… so much… I can deny before something false starts feeling real.”

Your admission broke the puppet's imaginary heart as he wills himself to hold back his instinct to swing insults and fists at your father. Instead, he chose to let what he supposes are comforting words drown your sorrow. It’s rigid and almost primal the way he tries to soothe your sadness but it's tender and warm in its own way, just as he is. 

“Are you… are you sure he’s wrong? How can you… you be so sure?”

The staccato of your unsure question is met with unwavering eyes as he nods. 

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t have said what I said otherwise.”

You hid your face with your hands as your back slumped forward. The wanderer could see the heaving of your shoulders and he could only comfort you by repeating his praise for you. Much like a devotee chanting his faith, he whispered kind words in hopes that by repeating it, you will believe this too. He hopes he’s done enough to override the names your father engraved into you with angered frowns, at least temporarily. The road to recovery winds away and is far from linear but he's ready to accompany you if you want him to.

As you continue to let out the emotions you thought dried up years ago, you hear him say, “Even if you forget again, just tell me and I’ll remind you that you’re nice, you’re smart and you’re so, so kind.”

Nice, smart, and kind huh? 

You don’t think you can believe it right now but slowly, you hope you will.  

Part two (not really that intertwined but I made it with the same characters in mind) To Nonnie, I'm sorry you have to go through this. I hope this little piece of fiction brings you some comfort, even if it might not fully capture what you're feeling. If there's anything more I can do to help or if you just need someone to talk to, please let me know.

[querenciasturniolo]

same ⮕ m.s.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: swearing, crying, anxious thoughts, kissing

summary: nick gives you some much needed advice, and things don’t go according to plan

a/n: (part two to obviously) i wasn’t expecting the amount of love i got for obviously, and i was SO excited for this part two that i tried to get through all of my requests so i could focus on this. thank you, i had SO much fun writing this 💓 i hope i tagged everyone !!!

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

tags: @222-lia , @black-yn , @lvrsparadise , @gwenloremain , @athenalive , @mxriverse , @notmarnaa , @rainsoakedphoenix , @peter-knows-spiderman , @sunflowerchild27 , @strniolo , @jellybeanbby , @oneirophobic , @landryz , @umichlover , @ot5xhabit , @edensocool , @floofparker , @friedfirewagonhorse , @avamartino , @hoshhoshh

You didn’t answer the text.

You tried, you really did. You had ‘yes’ typed out and drafted, but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’d pick Nick up from the house, or he’d get an Uber, but you couldn’t step foot in there.

You’d never been one to run away from anything, especially when it could start conflict, but this was…uncharted territory. Matt didn’t text you again after that, but every time Nick saw you, he complained about how Matt was acting like a kicked puppy, and today was no exception.

“I just don’t understand why he’s moping around all the time.” He said, flopping down on your bed and groaning. You couldn’t take hiding this from him anymore, so you sighed and opened your phone, opening the text from Matt and showing Nick. He glanced over, his eyes scanning over the text for longer than it should have taken.

It was quite a few moments before he reacted, but after fully processing it, he shot up and whipped around to face you, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Why haven’t you answered him? It’s no wonder he’s all out of whack!” Nick exclaimed. You knew he didn’t mean it in a mean way, but it still felt like a jab to your chest. You groaned and grabbed a pillow, pulling it over your face to muffle your scream into it. You pulled it away and hugged it close to you.

“I don’t know! I can’t…I can’t bring myself to answer it. I want nothing more than to answer him. Like, if he feels the same way that’s great and we can go from there, but if he doesn’t but still wants to be friends, it’ll be awkward even when I do get over him and, fuck! I don’t know what to do.” You completely let everything out, all of the worry and stress and frustration towards yourself completely diminishing as tears pooled in your eyes and a choked sob left your lips.

The crazy thing was that you knew that your crying wasn’t because you were hurting or sad—it was just such a relief to finally get everything you’d been feeling off of your chest that your body reacted in the only way it could. Nick wasted no time as he pulled you into his arms and held you, letting you get it out of your system before saying anything else.

When the tears finally stopped and your breathing was even, Nick pulled away but kept his hands on your shoulders. His eyes were locked on yours, full of love and care.

“First, never hold anything in like that. I don’t care what the topic is, it’s not worth the pain of keeping it in.” He said, his voice soft but stern. You nodded and wiped at your cheeks. Nick sighed and looked down, pulling his hands to his lap and fidgeting with his fingers before he looked back up. “Second, you should talk to Matt. He’s the only person that can find a solution to this situation that will be good for the both of you. He is the one you should be telling your worries to, because he is the only other person that knows exactly how you are feeling.”

You loved and hated when Nick was right. You knew you could only avoid this without going completely insane for so long, and eventually you’d have to get over yourself and just talk to him, even if it didn’t go well. Regardless of the outcome, you grabbed your phone and finally sent the message, locking it and dropping your phone into your lap.

Nick’s smile was all of the reassurance you needed.

You’d been pacing in your bedroom since Nick left, each minute on your clock going up making your heart race that much faster. Matt had told you he was on his way ten minutes ago, which meant he should be walking into your apartment at any moment, and it was agonizing.

Waiting had never been your strong suit, and the torturously slow build up was the proof. You had decided against doing this a million times, telling yourself that he wasn’t coming and you should just text him nevermind, but then having to convince yourself that he was coming and that you needed to chill out. It was a vicious cycle.

The sound of him knocking on your door made your skin crawl, every atom in your body at attention as you walked through your apartment and hesitated before pulling the door open. Matt was standing there, his eyes darting from the floor to you when you gestured for him to come in. You led him to the couch and sat down, not a word spoken between you until you finally looked into his eyes and word vomited all over the place.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, and it’s okay.”

Matt sighed and looked down. “Y/n.” He said, but once you start you can't stop.

“I just don’t want you to feel awkward and there’s this weird tension around every time we’re in the same room.” You said, Matt looking up with his mouth agape.

“What? Y/n—”

You dropped your head and looked into your lap. “I just hate the thought of losing you in any way, I just want you to know that it’s fine and I can get over this so you don’t have to feel wei—”

You were cut off completely when your head was lifted and Matt’s lips were on yours. Both of his hands were cupping your cheeks, his thumbs resting on your cheekbones. It was over soon before you could process it, your eyes opening when he pulled away to see him looking at you sternly.

“Would you shut up for a second?” He said, his voice tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. You nodded once, your wide eyes watching his every movement.

“Now, I want to say that you ignoring me sucked.” He started. You opened your mouth to apologize, but the look on his face had you shutting it completely and waiting for him to finish. “Thank you. It sucked, but it’s okay. I’m just glad that we’re talking now.” He said.You nodded as he sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Now that it seems I’ve made my feelings clear, I have some questions for you.” You nodded again, not fully able to speak yet.

“So, you like me?” He asked. You sighed, nodding reluctantly for the third time. You’d answer the next question out loud, once your heart had left your throat. Matt nodded and looked down, his cheeks pink. “For how long?”

You thought for a moment before scoffing—you couldn’t think of a specific moment. “How long have we known each other?” You asked humorlessly, Matt smiling and lifting his head.

“Where do we go from here?” He asked. You were staring at the pillow separating the two of you, pinching at it and removing nonexistent pieces of lint. You had absolutely no idea. You’d told yourself that you had to convince him that it was okay if he didn’t feel the same so many times, that you didn’t even think about what would happen if he did.

“I don’t know.” You said, finally looking up and meeting his eyes.

Matt was already watching you, his eyes soft and a faint smile on his lips. He hummed and pursed his lips, feigning being hard in thought. You chuckled, shaking your head in amusement as his face lit up.

“How about—we take it slow, and let things happen naturally? The only thing we know for certain is how we feel.” He suggested, your heart racing as you processed the possibilities. “And no overthinking, just go with the flow.” He said, your smile growing as you nodded.

“I can get down with that.”

[six-eyed-samurai]

Firstly congratulations on your followers! :) Secondly maybe the prompt R is for Romance from your yandere list with either reader and Rengoku or Dabi(from mha)? You don't have to do it if you don't want too, but I hope your day's good!

SUMMARY: A drunken game on the rooftop was not how you imagined would be the reason you were suddenly locked into a basement by none other than Dabi himself A/N: TY TY! Sadly my Yandere Alphabet is actually for neutral characters, however I can still pull off the R is for Romance for you! I was having a good day, ty, my best friend came back today lmao WARNINGS: This is yandere, so MDNI and in no way do I condone this sort of relationship. Also alcohol, swearing, maybe OOC Dabi (I did my best I'm sorry) My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

"Good Lord what letter comes after M?"

"O, stupid."

"Shut it Panda Eyes." You threw the bottle cap at your companion. He went cross eyed tracking it but maybe he was just drunk.

You both were, actually. Very much inebriated on top of some rooftop (how did you get up there again? Never mind it was going to give you an even bigger headache to try and remember) of some building in some place you had long forgotten during the alcohol binge you two were on. You wouldn't have pulled this sort of dumb stunt usually but after a successful night (successful...something. Ugh, what sort of damned drink had Dabi bought?) he had convinced you that it was good to celebrate. Just you and him, the after party.

An after party with lots and lots of alcohol. There was still more and you reached for another bottle, tilting it back. Then your eyes narrowed, turning to the turquoise pair staring at you. "Bullshit! You liar, it's N!"

"If you (beep) knew, why ask?" Dabi chucked his bottle cap at you. The caps littered the ground everywhere around you both, actually, as the both of you had agreed that it would be the punishment if the other was unable to continue the game.

The game, right. You had made a dumb joke about a team-building exercise and what a great time it would be to do it now even though the rest of the League wasn't here, then Dabi had followed it up with a sly suggestion of Eye Spy. You elbowed him and complained it was boring. He jabbed his finger into your side and in the end the both of you agreed to play a game of Word Association following the alphabet. Only problem was the both of you were idiots.

"I forgot! You got it wrong as well!"

Dabi rolled his eyes. "Just get the hell on with it."

"Okay! N for uh...nap?"

"Boring. N for...nonsense."

"You're boring. O for...obsession."

Dabi raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. "O for only."

"P for...platypus? Shit, what was that cartoon? The one where that duck thingy - platypus, sorry - wore a hat?"

"What the hell do you even watch?" Dabi snorted. "The first thing you think of is platypus?"

"You literally said M for magnesium just now," you grumbled, finishing your bottle and snatching his.

"After you said L for Bozo. That doesn't even make sense."

"I changed it off to L for love!"

"Once again, ew," Dabi sighed. "P for perfect."

"Q for...queue."

"So original. Q for queen."

"I hate you so much." You threw your head back. "R for-"

"Romance."

A beat of silence. Then you burst out laughing. "What in the actual-?"

"What? Your L got me thinking," Dabi protested, oddly defensive, going as far as to turn away.

“Thinking of someone?” You teased, crawling closer.

“Yeah.” Dabi smirked and you ignored the twang in your heart to widen your grin.

“Hmmm….anyone I know?” You blinked. “Actually, I can’t believe I never asked before. What’s your type? Tall, short, long hair, freckles, innocent, bratty, big ass?”

Dabi arched an eyebrow. “You thinking of somebody?”

“NO!” You flushed and blamed it on alcohol. “I’ll tell you my type if you do.”

“And what is your type, princess?”

You decided to ignore the nickname. “To be honest I don’t really mind as long as he’s…uh, nice? I dunno. Just someone who can show me a good time.”

“Had no idea you were into that.”

“I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT!” You whacked his arm. “Like, I want a guy who’s gonna come over on time, pick me up, take me to a place not necessarily dinner. Maybe an arcade date, mall date, anything is fine. Just talk and listen, you know? And drive me back, walk me to the door, say goodnight and shit. ‘Cause dating for me is getting to know someone really well and…yeah, know them inside out.”

“I have no idea whatever the (beep) it was you just said. You’re so eloquent when drunk.”

“Shut up. Like you’re not. I just want a gentleman. Respects boundaries and all that shit but I want someone - oh god this sounds stupid - who’s gonna make the effort with me to be our first and last. Does that make sense now?” You flopped onto your back. “I need another drink.”

“That? That’s it?” Dabi snorted and laughed. “Your ideal romance?”

“At least I can pull!” You realized you both were out of bottles and groaned. “Your turn.”

Dabi paused for a moment, then suddenly his face loomed over you in another smirk. “I’ll sum it up in one word. You. Can I take you on an “arcade date, mall date, anything is fine” tomorrow?”

And somehow you wound up anxiously pacing around the entrance of the local arcade Dabi had said he’d take you to anyway. You had already purchased some tokens, thanked God you hadn’t overdressed in your panic earlier, taken a few sips of water and what else? Right, fret your brains out over whether or not this was just a horrible joke made while inebriated.

“What the (beep).”

***

Because you’d be lying if you said you didn’t fancy Dabi himself.

Ain’t no way he had basically just confessed like that. Nuh uh. He was probably just as out of it like you were and in the blurred haze made a mistake. A stupid mistake that was twisting your heart and insides hard.

Yet why were you here? Because you’re delusional that’s why. And because the way he had said it last night seemed so sincere.

“Well, well, looks like I failed in being the gentleman, huh?”

“You did,” you quip out of habit, but your tone’s shaky. “No pick up?”

“I have no idea where you live,” Dabi said smoothly. “It’s alright, I’ve got plenty of ways to make up for it soon enough.”

“I dunno. You’re not a gentleman.”

***

But he was and it was…insane. Absolutely amazing and flattering and oh good god you couldn’t even describe it but it was completely INSANE how much Dabi proved you wrong with this behavior over the next six months of you and him dating. Because he kept proving your wrong, each time, that in fact he COULD BE a gentleman when he wanted to.

He came to go pick you up and followed you home. He always knew exactly what you wanted on the menu after pulling out your chair. He listened.

Dabi made the effort to be your first and last, like you said, unlike the flings before. He said as much on the last date. You were utterly head over heels, besotted, infatuated with him even more so when he admitted he had liked you from the start but wasn’t sure when was a good time to tell you.

So of course he was the first one you called in a panic when you discovered the camera in your bathroom.

You couldn’t believe you never noticed it before - and it terrified more that it could’ve been watching the unsuspecting you for god knew how long. It was only pure chance that you had suddenly spotted a peculiar glint in the mirror when wiping off the fog, partially hidden by your shower curtain. Oh god, oh god, oh god-

“Dabi?”

“Yeah, princess?” The crack in your voice had been exceedingly audible, as was his concerned tone. “You good?”

“There’sacameraspyingonmeinthebathroomIdon’tknowhowlongit’sbeenthere-”

“There you go again,” Dabi sighed, but his voice was placating, reassuring. “Slower this time?”

You took a deep breath. “I found a camera. In my bathroom. Some creep’s SPYING ON ME!”

“Get out of there right now and calm down, alright, sweetheart? I’ll be over in a minute.”

“You think the heroes put it there?”!”

“Doll, they’re horrible but they ain’t perverts. What’s so interesting in your bathroom besides you anyway?” Dabi’s joke came out tense and you heard a lot of background noise. “Look, like I said, get out of there. Don’t try to take it down-”

“Oops…”

“I’ll be over soon,” Dabi repeated and hung up.

You steadied yourself before examining the camera in your hand, sitting against the ladder that you had used to get up there. It was an ordinary CCTV looking thing and you had used a towel to cover the lens before taking it down. The wires stuck out and pricked at your palms.

Who would be watching you like this?

You needed air - the bathroom was too cramped suddenly. You ran out into your bedroom and threw open the window, dumping the camera on the ground, dry heaving while leaning out. You finally calmed down sufficiently to slide down the wall with a groan, tilting your head back while you anxiously waited for Dabi to show up.

Shit. No, no, no-

There was another camera hidden by the curtains.

Hysterical tears began streaking down your face. How long you had been there in a sobbing panic attack you didn’t know, barely hearing your front door open and the footsteps thundering into your bedroom. You didn’t register anything until you were suddenly wrapped up in Dabi’s arms, head tucked against his chest as he awkwardly stroked your hair.

“Hey, calm down, alright?”

“I’m scared. I’m so damn scared that someone’s been watching me all this time. You know there’s another camera? I found another.” You hiccuped and exhaled. “Okay, okay, I’m calm now.”

“Great. Let’s get you a drink of water and we’ll talk.”

He led you to the kitchen and poured you a glass, the both of you seated at your small dining table while you fought to clear your head. Dabi watched you intently, tapping his foot on the ground.

So you had discovered the cameras, huh? A bad thing, but the fact that you had called him meant you had no idea it was him…just as well, really. Dabi could use this to his advantage - make you more dependent on him.

He internally chuckled. You hadn’t noticed the burn on your wall near the cameras then, when he had accidentally caught a wire aflame setting it up.

But outwardly he twisted his face into one of concern.

“We can’t report this to the police,” he started. “You’re a known member of the League.”

“Then what? I’m not staying here anymore!”

“You could live with me.” He caught your expression and rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, but you sure are eager, huh?”

“SH-SHUT IT!”

“Back to the point. Your stalker might’ve put up some other cameras, not just your bathroom or your bedroom window. You could live with me while we look for the bastard,” Dabi said, quite convincingly. “I’ll take care of you. Ideal romance, right?”

You snorted a half laugh at that. “You really do surprise me - wait.”

Dabi raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The camera.” You felt yourself turning cold. Frozen. No way could it…”I didn’t tell you where I found the second camera’s location.”

“I found you crying underneath the window, princess. Sorry if I made the wrong assumption,” Dabi said apologetically. Inside he wondered if you were going to force his hand. His grip on the cup tightened. Stupid mistake.

“No…not only that.” You leapt your feet. “How did you get into my house anyway? I never took you here or gave you the key. You only ever walked me to the front door but I didn't tell you which floor I lived on or which apartment block. I locked the door, I’m sure. And how did you know where my bedroom was?”

“I could hear you weeping your eyeballs out from out there,” Dabi scoffed, getting to his feet as well. “I busted down your door.”

You backed away. “How did you know where I live then? And - and that day, when I nearly got mugged, you just showed up out of nowhere. Do you have a tracker on me?”

He said nothing.

“You put the cameras there, didn’t you?” Your whisper came out hoarse.

Dabi stepped closer and suddenly you realized exactly what a powerful presence he was as he leaned closer, trapping you against the table. “I did it all for us, y’know? For you. I had to know everything to keep you safe, be the perfect guy for you. Wasn’t that your ideal romance? Thanks for the tip, by the way, that night on the rooftop. It helped me realize exactly how to make you love me like I love you.”

“I don’t love a monstrous creep like you!”

His eyes flashed with hurt and heartbreak. “You will. Please.”

Dabi must’ve put something in your drink, you also realized; your knees buckled and you blacked out.

***

You awoke in a dark, stuffy room. Not like you were expecting anything less.

And he was right in front of you - that you didn’t expect. You would’ve lunged at your former love if you could, but the effects of whatever had knocked you out hadn’t left your body yet, making everything a blurry photograph and your limbs jelly. Something like cold metal bit into your wrists as well. Dabi just stared at you flatly.

“Why?” The word slipped out before you knew it. “If you say you love me, why? Why all this? Just for your sick idea of romance? You’re sick. You’re so sick I don’t know how I never knew it before. You…really are a damn villain.”

“You won’t let me protect you anymore. Keep watch.” Dabi shrugged. “I tried to do it your way, be your gentleman. Then you made me do it my way. You think I want this too? Rather see you happy and oblivious, really, but it’s not like you gave me a choice.”

“You never gave me a choice from the start!”

“I did,” Dabi corrected coldly.

You were grasping at straws and he knew it. “You think everyone’s not gonna notice if I just disappear?”

A warm hand suddenly clasped your cheek. Dabi really did look like a devil, you thought blearily, with all that staples and burns in the dark, with that expression.

“I faked my own death. I can fake yours.”

[legally-allowed-to-slime]

slime slime slime im actually so not normal about this new ep of wild life like all of the gempearl interactions??? "on a scale of 1-10 how much do you love me?" "oh like 0" ???!?! and then pearl confronting gem about gem's grudge against her and gem admitting that its just for the drama (ok queen) and THEN gem cutting that part out of her vid??!? "can i get a taste of gem? just a little bite?" PEARLESCENTMOON. the way the most amicable conversations gempearl has had both involve gem asking pearl to go kill someone (first grian then scott?) and also gem basically taking advantage of pearl not being able to really say anything??? i was watching pearl's pov of her realising that they actually DONT understand her at all and then gem and joel basically convincing (i would even say manipulating) her to go kill scott and all i could think of is how scary that was and then gem going "you'd do anything for me right? yes yes i know" *vine boom* also gem pulling out the scott sided with me card is CRAZY geminitay i could kiss you. the way pearl has vocalised wanting to hurt gem but at the end of the day anytime she sees gem shes immediately a down bad pathetic mess of a person. head in hands i cannot with these two. why are they like this.

-🐫

GOOD i get a gempearl ask that gives me an excuse to talk about them.

this session was a lot to take in. not that i’m complaining but it’s a bit like a month-long drought and then suddenly your crops are watered but it might be acid rain. every time i think i’ve got that dynamic down pat and they go and screw it up the next session.

let’s take it chronologically. scott says he’ll let them go all in (again, you can’t enable someone when they haven’t done anything), and pearl says she wants to antagonise gem (and joel). which i found really odd considering she’s spent the last two sessions convincing scott that she isn’t trying to do that, but probably because she sees scott is chill with it now that she has the “permission” to do so.

the thing is, she doesn’t really do anything. she does try to set a creeper trap but i think? gives up. her definition of “antagonising” is just going to gem and being all 🥺🥺 gem please gem gem no please

ok then we get the convo. pearl walks up to gem and cheerfully asks “on a scale of one to ten, how much do you love me today? what’s the goal” and gem equally casually replies “oh, like zero”. which is crazy because first of all gem’s reply was really funny, but pearl knew she was setting herself up with that one. pearl knows gem doesn’t like her, and gem knows that pearl knows that. there’s a world of unsaid words here, where pearl’s trying to act like everything’s normal when both she and gem know that it’s not, and they know that the other also knows.

gem changes the subject to the trivia bot and they engage in normal conversation for a while. it’s small talk, basically, like how they would talk on hermitcraft. at some point gem remembers she’s supposed to hate pearl because she then says “it’s okay i got a lot of lives to spare unlike some people” which is a clear jab and we know pearl’s salty about it because she starts her episode off pointedly saying how green the rest of her team is. pearl picks up on this and goes full on sad pathetic mode she was so pathetic this session oh my god

gem defends herself saying “i’m not cranky”. realistically, this is because cc!gem doesn’t find it reasonable to hate pearl for SL, so she’s being truthful here. pearl shoots back that they could’ve been friends this whole time and gem shrugs it off.

crazy implications for their characters. gem doesn’t care. she just finds it funny to cause drama because she knows pearl will care, excessively. let’s not even talk about pearl’s experience with having allies who become enemies the next season. it’s gem explicitly playing with pearl’s emotions like this woman omg

uh. no comment on the “just a little bite” thing. ?? i don’t blame people who thought pearl was actually a lesbian

a little aside, gem helping scar kill cleo was really well pulled off. cleo was suspicious the whole time and stood on the bridge and refused to follow gem into the base which is what killed them in the end. gem and scar are truly SUCH an op duo, considering they’re both so good at murder and have off-the-charts charisma

anyway the scott conversation. woah woah woah. there’s a lot to unpack here. first of all, gem and joel utilise the fact that pearl’s loyalty to her team is pretty rocky. from pearl’s pov she’s just going “what??” and slowly realising they can’t understand her but this is very much a repeat of mumbo trying to convince pearl to betray her team. from gem’s pov she explains that scott sided with her and she even says something along the lines of “he made you apologise when you know you didn’t do anything”, which like i’ve said reveals that she knows exactly what scott is doing. also, reminds me of dl!cleo saying “i’m your replacement”, with the slight insinuation that maybe pearl should stop trying to get scott’s approval. or attention, more precisely.

my suspicion is that after the scott sacrifice, pearl will be closer with the other Gs, thus technically becoming less susceptible to gem’s words (which are correct but are very clearly pointed to try and get pearl to target someone else, namely scott). i feel like it’s just gem being really amused because pearl did express earlier in the episode that she wanted to make up, so gem’s sort of. holding the carrot out. we can have fun again (her use of the word “again” is insane). also go kill scott, not me. essentially toying with pearl’s emotions

ALSO this would be a good time to insert in my thoughts on scott/gem. they’re both aware of their social skills but gem, i think, is more conscious about it, and thus can use it more pointedly. which is why she can easily recognise that scott was screwing pearl over by convincing her to apologise. while scott approaches the social game as a means of survival, gem’s doing it for fun. i do think the way she giggles exactly the same way whether over a joke or after her base has just been burnt down by the person who she conspired to kill, is terrifying and i think there’s a lot of potential in that. most strikingly, when she stops laughing during the SL finale.

gem does tell pearl, while pearl’s making confused robot noises, that they can “finally have a discussion about our drama”. which. well. do i need to elaborate. just her cheerfully implying that pearl talks back too much. i live for her toxic arc. i think cc!gem would absolutely thrive roleplaying being really toxic to pearl. i feel cc!pearl would also benefit they kind of need that for the character development and the conversations on hermitcraft would be hilarious

they want each other so baddd oh my god make out already

[peachesofteal]

Cupcakes

Maybe this will be a thing. Or maybe not. Either way, I've got the Pedro brain rot.

Joel Miller/female reader One shot - 1.1k words - AO3 Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, mentions of blood, violence, gore. Joel is bad at feelings. Descriptions of explicit sex. Joel doesn't understand you.

He doesn’t understand you. You smile. With your mouth, your pink lips curling above a deep scar on your chin. 

“It’s my trophy.” You told him one night. “I got it from a crazy fucker who had a barn fulla clickers.” He’s not sure why any person would be penning up a bunch of those things, but you did say he was crazy. “Killed him though. Was one of my first ones.” He watches your face go dark with the memory, and he tries to imagine what you were like before all this. Soft, sweet. Probably someone’s wife. Maybe you stayed at home. Made dinner, made breakfast. Maybe you were the type that made cupcakes, real ones from scratch, with sweet spun sugar icing. Maybe you took care of someone. 

He doesn’t understand the way you think. You’re always telling him to take it slow, take it easy, take his time. He can’t. He doesn’t know how. He has to move fast, quick, easy on his feet. He cannot slow down. You have no problem making pace, but it doesn’t keep you from voicing your opinion. 

“You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack. Don’t the doctors usually start old men on baby aspirin at your age?” He’s not that old, for christ’s sake. He’s not even forty-five yet, he thinks. When you laugh at your own jab, it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. 

He doesn’t understand the way you fight. You creep around like a god damn cat, brandishing a knife in your hand, another two slipped in your boots. You liked surprise, and you hated guns. The first time he had watched you put a blade in someone’s clavicle, he thought he was going to be sick. He didn’t like you having to get so close, no matter how many times you tried to assure him you were fine. And he hates how his head spins when he watches you put that same knife in the side of a clicker’s head, twisting it for good measure, before you’re shoving off of them and bashing their skull in. 

“Can’t aim worth a shit.” You complained the day he took you out for practice. You couldn’t hit a single bottle, and he couldn’t fight the grimace that graced his face. When you saw it, your cheeks turned a different color, and guilt burned inside him. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so fucking stubborn. Why you don’t listen when he tells you to do something, when you blatantly ignore him when he tells you not to follow the crying little kid that’s begging for help. 

“It’s not like it was life or death.” He turned on you so fast he watched your eyes go wide, his arms pulling your shoulders towards his chest. “It is life or death!” He had yelled. You had run into that building without a care after that kid, and he could hardly keep up. Turns out, the kid’s mom was already infected, and he didn’t understand. He was only five. You covered his eyes while Joel put her down. You had carried him all the way back to camp, even after Joel had offered to take him, arms wrapped tight around his back as he cried. So stubborn. But you let Joel hold you that night, for the first time. In the dark, your hand running up and down his spine, your whispered words repeating over and over. “I’m fine. I’m fine, Joel.”

He doesn’t understand your feelings. The way they shift from one day to the next. He doesn’t like how it feels when he catches you crying, drop of tears webbed in your pillowy lashes. 

“What is it?” the words are gruff, and he wishes he was softer for a split second. You sniffle and shake your head. “It’s my dad’s birthday. Or would’ve been.” He gets it, he does. But he doesn’t know how to show you, so he just sits down on the step, his shoulder against yours. You wrap your hand around his knee after you’ve dried your tears, and he holds his breath while you turn your tear-stained face up towards him. “Thanks, Joel.” His name on your lips makes his blood sing. 

He doesn’t understand the way you talk to people either. The way you make everyone feel like they’re some ray of sunshine in your life. Like they matter to you. You give everyone your smile, and your eyes, and your touch. You rub Rita on her back when she throws up every second week of the month, like clockwork. You braid the Marshall girl’s hair when her mom isn’t around to do it. You try to arm wrestle John when you both get a free moment, and he can hear your laugh clear across the yard when he lets you win. 

“He gets a kick out of it.” You tell him one night. “Makes him feel good. Shitty world we live in, you know?” 

He knows. 

He wants to make you feel good.

He hasn’t had a woman under him in years. He’s all rough sandpaper, and he can’t imagine that scraping against your porcelain skin. But, that doesn’t stop him from thinking about it. He dreams about bending you back on one of those shitty mattresses, your skin rippling in goosebumps under the tips of his fingers. He imagines the way your mouth tastes, how your hand would feel wrapped around his cock. He thinks about how you’d sound, with his mouth on your cunt, his tongue licking up inside you, pulling an orgasm through your gritted teeth. He’d hold your hip in one hand and fuck his fingers into you with the other, feeling the way the walls of your cunt clenched down around him. He thinks about how he’d push your hips down onto his cock, your back arched in his arms, your mouth pressing into his shoulder as you moan. “Joel.” you’d whine, tongue darting out to lick your lips, hand gripping his forearm. “Fuck, Joel. Please.” He’d bite the skin of your neck, bringing it between his teeth, pulling the blood to the surface to brand you. You’d be his. 

These things he wants, they’re just a fantasy. A gentle dream, like the memory of the world before. He knows that, he does. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting. From watching you when you’re on guard, hips swaying with every step you take. Doesn’t stop him from taking himself in his hand when he thinks about the curve of your waist, the prominent dips in your hips, the soft crease where your thigh bends when you sit, legs folded against each other. He wants to pin you beneath him until you’re shaking, wants to hold you to his chest while you sleep. He wants the sweet, soft spun sugar that melts in his mouth, the feeling of you in his arms. He wants the cupcakes, the real ones. 

He wants it all. But it’s only a fantasy. 

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: This might a 2 or 3 parter. College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that troupe and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing I think, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Derogatory use of the word puck bunny. Bucky is a playboy. There is not interaction be MC and Bucky quite yet.

Word Court: 1935

Likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

“I don’t know what to do,” you groaned as you threw your head back against the worn couch. 

“I want the project to focus on movement, but lifelike movement. Human movement.” You mocked your professor. It not being nature themed had to be a jab just for you. All your projects were nature related or still motion. 

“Professor Grace wasn’t targeting you,” Wanda said, letting out a chuckle at your dramatics. 

“Are you sure you’re not a drama major?” Pietro laughed as he threw a butter packet at you. 

“You two are the worst,” you sighed as you threw your arm over your eyes. Twins, why did my best friends have to be twins. The world is cruel, your thoughts drift.

“Why don’t you come to the track and draw me?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response.  

“Eh,” you sighed. You didn’t want a solution at the moment. You just wanted to complain. 

“She just wants to vent guys,” Natasha said as she came through the door holding a couple bags of takeout and a box of wine. “And I doubt she wants to see you and the rest of the track team in those tiny little running shorts you call clothing,” she sassed at Pietro. He just laughed, and stuck a pose with his leg up on the bar stool next to the island counter causing you all to laugh with him. 

“Thank you,” you exclaimed as she handed you your food. You threw a 10 at her and settled back down into the couch. 

“You know, you could come by the rink and draw a couple of the guys,” Nat mentioned. Her long term boyfriend was on the hockey team, Clint, a sharpshooting winger nicknamed Hawkeye. 

“Pfft,” you scoffed. “I’m not going to have them think I’m one of those, puck kitties, or whatever they’re called.” 

“Puck bunny,” Wanda chimed in, you pointed your chopstick at her and smiled. 

Natasha let out a loud laugh, one of those full bodied ones, “god they won’t think that.” You raised your eyebrow at her and gave her an incredulous look. 

“I can’t have them showing off because I’m there. I need to get them in their element. Not focused on what I’m doing,” you groaned again. “Biggest issue is I will need permission from the person or people. So they’ll have to know.” 

“Like I said Princessa, draw me. You have my permission,” Pietro winked, you rolled your eyes at him. 

“You’re too obvious of a choice. And as much as Wanda insists that Professor Grace doesn’t have a personal vendetta against me, she’ll love pointing out I picked the safe option,” you whined. 

“Wanda, you haven’t seen Grace in class. She will take any chance to criticize her pieces. Nitpicking to the extreme.” Natasha chimed in, “if it wasn’t for Dr. Rain I think our resident artist would've failed out of this course by now.” Dr. Rain was the head of the art department and after a wholly undergraded piece you submitted last semester Prof. Grace was on thin ice. So she graded you fairly but took every chance to tear you apart in front of the class. 

“I’ll think about the hockey team. It would be the least expected from me anyway,” you signed and got up from the couch taking everyone’s garbage and throwing it out. Football season was over, but the hockey season was in full swing right now and our team was top of the league. 

“They have practice tomorrow night, you should come by and look at it,” Nat said, giving you a knowing look. 

~The Next Day~

That's how you ended up in the rink. Underdressed because you didn’t realize how cold an ice rink would be in the stands. You were right though, about the type of girls that hung out there, they were scantily dressed and leaning over the tunnel that the players exited and entered from. How they weren’t frozen baffled you. 

Nat was sitting reading a chemistry book across from you near the bench, as you didn’t want the team knowing you knew her. Well everyone but Clint. You’ve hung out quite a few times over the past couple years. You took a seat a few rows up opposite the bench near what Nat called the Sin bin (penalty box.) It gave an excellent undisrupted view of the rink and the players as they practiced. 

The sounds of skates gliding over fresh ice and sticks bouncing off it was an almost soothing sound. The puck skittered across the ice as it was passed between teammates and shot toward the empty net. The goalie, a guy named Quill, was performing some kind of ritual at the opposite end of the rink. Nat mentioned he was a bit of an odd duck. But according to her all goalies were odd in their own ways. 

The movement was fluid and easy to follow. How these giant men moved so weightlessly across the ice left you in awe. The Captain of the team was a blonde center named Steve Rogers, better known as Cap. Most of the school knew him, he was in a few of your art classes over the semesters. His girlfriend Peggy, was the student union president. 

The star of the team was his blurry best friend James “Bucky” Barnes. He was a “winger,” with good prospects for the NHL according to Nat as she gave you a lowdown of the team as you guys went there just after practice started. He was nicknamed the White Wolf. How a man of his size moved that easily was mesmerizing, he almost floated over the ice and it looked like he was dancing. He was sinfully handsome as well. Every other week he had a new girl hanging off his arm. Undoubtedly one of those puck bunnies as they were called. He was the talk of the school after the football season concluded. 

It made you dislike him on principle. The sports were definitely more priority in the school and the art department lacked thanks to these overgrown toddlers on skates. But you couldn’t deny his natural handsomeness, he looked effortlessly handsome and it was almost unfair. 

You looked down at your sketch pad that you had been absently scratching at. Bucky seemed to be your muse because you couldn’t take your eyes off him as he effortlessly skated around the rink. You were in danger and you knew it. You gulped and closed the book before quickly gathering your things and leaving. 

It didn’t take Nat long to text you and ask where you went. You sent her a quick message back saying you were cold. Not that Bucky, the school's playboy, had quickly become the muse of your piece. 

“Nat, I thought you said your friend was coming by,” Clint asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“She did, she left because she was cold,” Nat chuckled. 

“Anyone know the pretty one watching by the sin bin?” She overheard Wilson ask. “And what she was doing?” 

“I think I was in a couple art classes with her,” Steve mentioned missing your name. 

“I won’t complain if she comes by again,” Barnes said. Wilson raised a brow at him. 

“What, so you can break her heart well?” 

“Look doll, it’s not you,” 

“It’s me.” Wilson and Stark said together. Barnes shot both men a glare. Then the high pitched whine of Barnes newest fling squealed his name and that was Clint and Nat’s queue to hightail it out of there. The collective groans from the rest of the team matched her thoughts. 

~A couple days later~

“Loki, I don’t know what I’m going to do, this project is worth too much for me to go safe,” you sighed as you laid your head on his lap. He was reading some classic novel for his English class in the student commons. His fingers nimbly moved through your hair as he held the book in the other hand. 

“Darling, just go back to the ice rink,” he knew almost immediately when something was up when you were walking together a couple days later. The perspective bastard. Loki was your best friend since middle school, his brother Thor was the star quarterback for the football team in both high school and here. 

“Why would I do that,” you pouted. 

“Because you clearly want to draw this man, and it will ruin you for months just like that piece you did of Helena,” he said shortly. Helena or Hela was his big sister and she was absolutely stunning. You had pined over drawing her for a piece for months before Loki forced you to ask her. It fixed everything and life back to normal after you painted the piece. 

“I hate when you do that,” you whined, his eyes flicking down to your face. 

“Hate what darling,” he mused. 

“That, being reasonable and knowing what I need before I admit what I need to do.” He laughed and ruffled your hair affectionately. 

“Comes with years of experience,” he sighed and placed his book down next to his leg. “Do bundle up this time will you,” he called as you walked away, you quickly flipped him the bird as you rounded the corner. 

And there you were back at the rink again. Although tonight was a game night and the rink was packed. “20 dollars,” a nasally boy said as he pushed his glasses up, he looked bored out of his mind. 

“Pardon?” You asked, looking at him. 

“It’s 20 dollars to get in the game,” he said in an annoyed tone. 

“Oh, I’m a student,” you showed your ID card, he rolled his eyes, “5 dollars.” You nodded and placed the five down. Only partners of the team got in free. Perk of fucking one of the team members you guessed, that must have outweighed the fear of them cheating or getting bored. You knew that wasn’t fair. At least two of the guys were in committed relationships and one was in an on again off again relationship. The rest though you weren’t sure, you shock your head at the thought. 

You caught the flaming red hair of Nat in her reserved seat next to the bench, Peggy was next to her. There were a few open seats at the top of the rink, not great from getting a good view of what you needed to draw. But it would have to do. Instantly your eyes were drawn to Barnes, number 17, flying up the ice leaving the opposing team in the dust, snow? With a quick flick of his wrist the puck was shot sideways and Barton scored. The crowd stood and cheered loudly. You wished you had ear plugs now. The buzzer was insanely loud and made your ears ring. How Nat enjoyed this you’d never understand. Barton. You thought, Nat wasn’t big on sports, but she was big on her sweet boyfriend. 

You focused on Barnes as he showboated around the rink, celebrating his assist. He moved so fluidly, you were mesmerized. You drew many little pieces focusing on the movement trying to capture the effortlessness of him skating. You were startled from your drawing when the buzzer screeched again the crowd roared in applause. The team scored again and it seemed to be Barnes that scored this time. Hats flew onto the ice as he skated around. That was odd, you squinted at the action. His eyes caught yours for a split second as he rushed past and it felt like eternity. 

Read Chapter 2 here

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more <3

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[snekwritesstuff]

Take A Break (pt. 2 of ?)

Part 1 Here! Pairing: Doomed Polycule? I think? Word Count: 948 Warnings: Bill is once again a little shit, don't assume this is healthy yet. Otherwise, none!

hi hello we're back with this again. i have some ideas for this still but im not sure how to implement them all. anywho...enjoy!

Fiddleford was ready to wake up. As he clung to the wall behind him, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Bill in the flesh. Or at least in the…whatever he was made of. The demon's eye pierced his own, sending a bolt of anxiety through the engineer.

“Specs! Good to finally meet you, eh?” Bill said, holding out his hand and closing his eye in a smile.

Fidds could only nod, sliding down the cabin wall. 

“I hear you wanna talk! Name's Bill, though you seem to already know that.” When Fidds didn't shake his hand, he brought it back with a shrug. “And you're Fiddlesticks! Gotta say, for a hick, you seem to have a pretty nice mindscape in here. But maybe that's because you've used the old memory gun a few too many times.”

“You know about the gun?” Fidds asked, voice cracking.

“Of course I know about the gun!” Bill laughed, suddenly approaching Fidds’ face. “And I know about your wife, and about your desperation for my Fordsy.”

“My–”

“Oh, don't play dumb with me, Specs, you gave him googly eyes before you left the basement. And it's almost like, and I'm spitballing here, I'm in your head.”

Fidds’ face flushed red as he turned away. “This isn’t fair, Bill. I’m tryin’ to have a civil conversation.”

Bill blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Civil? Where Fordsy is concerned? Never.”

“So you two are…Not important. Not…yeah.” Fidds sighed, bringing a hand to his face. “Look, you’re a little intimidatin’, but if you’re makin’ him happy, then I can’t complain. Just try to be mindful of ‘im. And, well, I think you and I should at least try to play nice since we both clearly care for ‘im.”

“Hm, asking something of me without giving me something in return…Not my style, Specs.” The demon tapped a finger to where his mouth would have been if he had one. Did…he have one? “Though, I do love a good deal. How ‘bout we make one?”

Fidds shook his head vigorously. “Mama raised a godly boy, and while that may be different now, I know better than to meddle in devilish voodoo.” He shuddered with a grimace. “This dream's plenty proof for me that you exist.”

Bill twirled his cane, a hand behind his head. “Fordsy likes you too, y'know.”

“Not my business. He's got his love life, I've got mine. No need to–What?” 

With a laugh the demon swam in front of the engineer, his chin resting on folded hands and legs kicking behind him. “I couldn't give less of a damn if you like him, Fiddlesticks. I care because he always gets so prickly when his little hillbilly's involved. You're a smart one, but nothing like my Sixer.” His large eye inched ever closer towards Fidds. “Which makes me curious. Why does the greatest mind across every dimension care about someone as mediocre as you, when he has a god that cares about him and can boost his potential?” 

“I couldn’t tell you.” The sting of those words hurt more than Fidds wanted to admit. “But I know a gamble when I see one, and I'm starin’ one head on. What is he gettin’ out of this?” 

“Power beyond any mortal mind's comprehension, an expanding kingdom to rule and study as he sees fit, a life with his Muse…” The demon tapped his fingers in a counting motion. “What else could my Fordsy want? Certainly nothing you could provide.”

“Ford's not interested in power,” Fidds spat. 

“Oh-ho, boy are you wrong!” Bill laughed. “All humans want power!”

“I don't–”

“Hold on, hold on, get your suspenders out of that knot! Power manifests in different ways, Fiddlesticks.” The demon jabbed a finger towards the man's glasses. “But we're getting off topic…Here's the deal. I can't physically enter your realm unless that portal's finished.”

“Good,” the engineer growled. “I don't want you anywhere near this place.”

“I mean no harm, of course, and even if I did, Ford's willing to help me. My offer to you is if you let me drive this bad boy around every once in a while, I can make sure we both get a piece of our favorite scientist.”

Fidds’ face twisted in disgust, shaking his head again. “Ford would never. And you’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’d let you use me to keep twistin’ his brain every which way.”

Bill shrugged. “Your loss, Fiddlesticks, but the offer’s always on the table! Anywho, time for me to go! Nothing matters, buy gold, bye–”

“Now hold your horses!” At Bill’s slow blink, Fidds continued. “That’s all? You come into my head, ruin my night, and-and you’re just gonna leave? I haven’t gotten a single word in! What do you really want with Ford?”

“I just told you, Specs, keep up!”

Fidds finally stood, shoving a finger in the demon’s face. “I ain’t stupid, Billy, you know exactly what I’m askin’ you!”

“And I ain’t tellin’ you!” Bill’s accent was a mockery, fueling Fidds’ bubbling rage. 

“Fine then! But if you hurt him, there ain’t nothin’ in any dimension that can stop me from tearing those stupid little limbs off your stupid yellow body and feeding them to you one by one.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Fiddlesticks!” Bill patted Fidds’ head condescendingly. “You’re fun! I’ll be here more often, I think. Bye!”

As the demon disappeared, Fidds woke up with a start. He slammed a fist against his mattress and stood. Pacing the floor, he muttered to himself before sitting at his desk and drawing up blueprints for an inter-dimensional death ray that aimed only at yellow triangles.