#he's not even wearing The Shirt™️

[aiqingdemeimiao]

wait a minute...

"COMPUTER, ENHANCE!"

hi ben

[moonsaver]

how touchy do you think sunday would be with his partner? (yan! or otherwise, if there's a difference)

Great ask. Simple, well rounded. I like the prompt. Thank you for the request!

[Cw; slightly suggestive, but nothing sexual. Mentions of being naked. Also yandere.]

As for Sunday..

Normally, I like to think Sunday is Adequately Touch Starved™️.

He doesnt make a show of it in public – PDA is a huuuuge nono, only an exception under specific circumstances to the point where it's better if you let Sunday initiate in public instead of you. In private? Go ham. Hug him from behind while he's brushing his teeth. Ask to join him in the shower. Kiss his face while he's eating breakfast. He'll pepper your face in soft kisses in return, smiling against your skin when you giggle. He'll literally insist on drying you off himself after you shower if it means he gets to hold you. He would adore absolute skin contact, like full blown naked cuddling. But with Sunday, I imagine things are rarely sexual, but rather more sensual or romantically intimate.

Depending on how deep into the relationship one might be with him, he will do a few cheeky or endearing things. Like for ex. If you wear gloves, he slides his hand into your glove just to hold your hand, and smiles when you laugh. He likes being held and holding you, but hates it when those times are interrupted – its a similar feeling to how someone feels when theyre in the shower and don't want to leave. He doesn't admit it, but sometimes when you pull him back as he's just about to leave through the door and kiss him – he loves it. Absolutely savors the feeling of a faint imprint on his face (but has to check for appearance concerns).

His biggest problem is; in the starting of your relationship, or if both of you are new to physical affection as a means of love language – he will neverrrrr initiate. He says he doesn't want to push you (which is half true, but also because he's a big cowardly nervous little dog who doesn't want to appear like one). You have to slightly ease him into it. But after a certain duration of time, he gets more comfortable and initiates it instead. And he does it in ways you don't normally notice, so sometimes you unknowingly might even interrupt his attempt and walk away.

Yandere Sunday is not shy.

Yandere Sunday, I imagine, is a tad bit more touch starved than the usual Sunday, and entirely shameless about it with you, far too soon.

He always wants to keep his hand on you – he holds it, or acts like he's guiding you to do something just by holding it, maybe even tells you he's inspecting something as an excuse to. In the beginning, he still manages to stay low about it, but later on, he doesn't care about hiding it much.

Always expects physical affection when he's within your vicinity. Maybe not too much in public (thank the aeons for your own dignity), but in private, he's no less than 'all over you'. Constantly squeezing in and sitting beside you if you're on the couch, circling his arm around you and holding you tightly against him. If you're sitting, he might pull you into his lap and push his face into the curve of your neck, relishing your scent. His lips are always pressed onto your skin – on your knuckles, your face, maybe on your head, your neck, anywhere he finds. Sometimes he's not even kissing you, but squishes up his face right beside you.

maybe even if he's let go of his reservations to an extreme degree – he makes you sit on his lap in his office. Maybe slides up a gloved hand under your shirt and acts annoyed that you're squirming, as if none of his employees can walk in any moment and see the compromising position. But he doesn't care much, since the door is locked.

I'd say in general, for Sunday, he likes the skin to skin contact aspect of physical affection. And the warmth during cold winters is also a huge favorite of his. He tends to feel lonely and untethered most of the time, so touch can also serve to help ground him – especially if he's stressed or just didn't have that great of a day.

[theorist-fox]

The concept of Bad Man Simon Riley who's aware he's a Bad Man™️ is one I hold very dear to me.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon Riley is, fully and completely, what people envision as a bad man. He's a convoluted character who carries a lot of baggage, and that same weight has crushed him into the beast he is today.

His reflection is his constant reminder of the bad things he's done and endured. And when you have such a blatant, ever-present memento of how dark you really are, it's hard to forget.

He doesn't bother putting up a facade. Won't help the lady cross the street, nor will he take a bullet for someone else. No one has ever done that for him, so it's only natural to give the world a taste of its own medicine. He doesn't even try; it just happens.

It takes him nothing to leave Soap behind in Las Almas and find shelter in an abandoned church. Sure, he'll cover for him—if the lad is fast enough, that is. Saving Alejandro afterwards is a mere ploy to make this blasted mission end sooner—true, no one fights alone, but he'd like to get out of there as soon as possible, thank you very much.

Barely brushes the concept of Price's injury when he faints due to the inhalation of some Sarin gas of sorts. Can only think that if he'd died, he would have to take the captain's place in leading the operation. A fucking bummer alright—but cap's fine, thankfully, right? One less thing to worry about now.

Won't try to start relationships, because what good can he bring when he can't even drop a kind word for himself? He's awful, inside and out, and he's aware.

What happens, then, when he's suddenly loved?

What happens, then, when you're sliding under his skin, pretending you don't see the rot and the grime?

The question of "why" is pinned to the front of his brain like an annoying leech that plagues him day and night.

On the couch, you're absolutely unbothered by his dark presence next to you. You're just munching on popcorn and watching some film he doesn't even remember the name of.

"Y'should go," he says out of the blue.

You barely spare him a glance. "Film's not over yet."

No, that isn't what he meant, but he has an inkling that you've gathered that already.

"Ain't good for ya," he insists. "Ain't good for anyone, but that's a whole 'nother story."

You side-eye him from your end of the couch. "Self-deprecating at dinner time? Could you move it up the schedule a little, like—breakfast or somethin'."

He doesn't understand. Won't get through his skull. Share a home with him, and for what? What's he giving you that you're coveting so hard, enough to find it easy to snark back at a beast like him—poking the bear while wearing flimsy cotton shorts and a band t-shirt?

"Y'don't understand," he grits out. "I ain't a good man, love."

"Oh, I know." You say, popping a handful of popcorns in your mouth. "And?"

It irks him. Wants to bite off your head, but, surprisingly, he still has morals, and he wouldn't even dare touch you with ill intent.

"Don't act stupid, now." He warns.

"Ain't acting stupid." You reply as if there is some obvious thing he isn't getting. "You've done bad things, and bad things were done to you. That it?"

He hums as a frown paints his face.

"Should I love you less?" You go on, "Or not love you at all?"

"The latter."

"Wrong." You add as soon as he responds. "Wrong, because that's what you believe, not the truth."

He cocks a brow at your apparent arrogance. A nod in your direction, "What's the truth, then?"

You place the bucket of popcorn on the coffee table. "Truth is that you're human, Simon."

Now that's a word he wouldn't associate with himself.

Monster. Beast. Bear. Wraith, or demon. Ghost.

"As a person, good and bad can coexist—there is no such thing as night and day." You go on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you've unleashed on his poor heart.

Keep saying the word person around him this often, and he'll start believing he is one.

So, you have seen the rotten flesh and the mud coating his insides. You have buried your hands in his viscera and coated your skin with his blood and the one he's spilled.

You know, and yet you're here. You're here because you've also seen something else, something he's not aware is there.

Same thing that made his heart lurch when Price wasn't waking up. Same thing that made him hide, prone in the bell tower of a Mexican church, making sure Soap would get back in one piece.

Same thing that has him gaze at you now, with eyes that sting with clear, fresh water. No rotting liquid, no oozing pus, or sickening blood.

You shrug, "Maybe your sun is a little eclipsed, but there's that. I can still see it, y'know?"

You outstretch your leg. Press the tips of your toes against his thigh. The world is suddenly in technicolor, and his chest warms like a rekindled flame.

You wink. "And it's bright as hell, too."

[rosewaterandivy]

vena amoris

Summary: some part of me must have died / the first time that you called me “Baby”

Pairing: s.h. x reader

W.C.: 2.5K

Themes: the usual— repressed feelings, smut mentions, Cabaret quotes, Steve ‘down bad’ Harrington™️

A/N: well ahoy there! Did I take a mental health day and brain rot this into being? You bet! Title is Latin for “the vein of love.”

“Oh god,” You’d remarked, with a knowing smirk and lifted brow. “Can you imagine?”

Your tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t a whimsical, starry-eyed, sigh filled statement coming from a naive girl.

No, instead it was a wry, flippant remark laden with sarcasm and pity as the woman by the college green gleefully sobbed out a yes, yes, of course! to a polite smattering of applause as her newly minted fiancé slipped a sparkling band onto her finger.

“And on graduation day, no less.” You bat away the few hairs that had flown into your face buoyed by the summer breeze, your graduation gown fluttering about your legs. “Damn my guy, let the woman have her moment jeez.”

Steve struggled to laugh and maintain composure, because the thing was, he actually could imagine it, and had even done so himself from time to time. The time honored predicament of “keeping it casual” while remaining friends.

He remembers it clear as day, how you’d met in front of the dining hall as he’d overslept (again) and rushed to shove his pockets full of cereal before his morning lecture so as to not fall asleep during Macroeconomics.

”Hey, Buck-o!” You’d crowed from the table riddled with pens, to-go coffee cups, and clipboards, “Are you registered to vote?”

All he can remember thinking, after the pre-requisite it’s too damn early for this was the ever eloquent, well, fuck me.

Nevermind that you were wearing a Reagan Ruined Everything shirt accompanied by the flaming visage of the man. Nevermind that your friend merely snorted at your bombastic accosting of students for the sake of democracy. Nevermind that several people had shoulder checked him in their rush to get waffles and coffee.

”Ritchie Rich,” You’d said with a smile, “Voting solely for your interests or ready to join the proletariat with the rest of us?”

It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least. You, a blue-blood former ballet dancer until “my tits grew in” majoring in poli-sci and him, the sole progeny of a captain of industry on the ivy-league to corporate office pipeline.

So, it really was inevitable that you’d fall into bed together. Even without your grandparents wheedling and match-making attempts. But still, you weren’t dating— he wasn’t that kind of guy and you weren’t even interested in a relationship anyway.

It was sex and friendship, that was all.

Argento movie marathons because it was “a crime you’ve never seen something outside of a cineplex, Harrington,” underneath mountains of a goose-down duvet. Trips to the Cape just to pass the time, M&M’s riddling the hardwood floors in front of a roaring fire with his head between your thighs. Dragging him out on cold autumn mornings to canvass for local elections. Late nights where you’d pass out in front of the flickering tv screen after watching Bitter Rice.

Sure, Robin side-eyed the entire situation and Dustin never failed to remind him how much of an idiot Steve was being. But, in fairness, it was never something that struck either of you as odd.

It was college, people do weirder and more detrimental shit all the time without the evergreen excuse of misguided youth. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Eddie was the one to ruin it all.

“Dude,” He’d said, surprisingly serious as he loaded up his bike for the drive back to New York. “Not for nothin, but if I were you Harrington,” He inclined his head toward where you were at the coffee cart. “I’d lock that shit down.”

”Whaddya mean? We’re just friends.”

“Sure buddy,” Eddie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

But did he really think about it after that? Of course not, just continued to careen toward graduation and the inevitable.

He was destined for great things, according to his father: continuing the family legacy and filling the coffers, working abroad in Europe for year post-grad and securing those overseas accounts.

So when he wasn’t suffering through mind-numbing lectures, and being at dear old dad’s beck and call, Steve was doing what he did best: wilding with the gang or hanging out with you.

Which mostly resulted in fucking at increasingly creative locations at your place or his, but he digresses.

His graduation was uneventful— his father sternly nodded his approval while his mother posed them like dolls for a family photo. They’d drug him to a prolonged who’s who of his father’s connections under the guise of a celebration dinner, to which none of his friends had been invited.

Steve had schlepped himself back to the apartment, less drunk than he would’ve preferred given the circumstances. Only to be greeted by you at the door, in one of your more creative get-ups consisting of a 1920’s boudoir set with stockings.

Plum-painted lips split like a ripe fruit, white pearly teeth gleamed in the dim hallway light. And his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,” You gently kick the door of his apartment the rest of the way open to reveal people packed to the brim inside— Robin, Dustin, Eddie.

“Fremde, étrange, stranger.”

Because of course you’d throw him a going away party, themed no less (“Cabaret only seemed appropriate since you’re Berlin-bound come morning,”). The drinks are flowing and the music is thumping and all he wants to do is kiss you, so he does.

And the world doesn’t cease to turn, the music doesn’t stop, his friends don’t give a damn. No one is shocked by this turn of events, not even the elusive ex of Stanford fame Nancy Wheeler.

Because if there’s one thing that everyone knows, well everyone excluding you because if you somehow caught on to him Steve might actually drop dead right then and there—

What everyone knew was this: Steve Harrington was not and had never been a casual guy.

He heard Eddie mumble something about Sisyphus into his drink before pulling him off of you. Your lipstick was smeared and a little patchy now, but he sure as shit didn’t care, his own mouth was probably branded now too, bruise-colored as if he’d bitten into an overripe stone fruit.

A big deal is made about getting the King a drink, as Eddie all but frog marches Steve to the bar.

“So,” He greets, clapping him on the back, “You’re down bad.”

Steve nearly chokes on the beer, the frothy foam ticking at his nose. He swallows past his heart lodged in his throat, and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell that to your mouth, Liza,” He sweeps a thumb against Steve’s bottom lip, it comes back riddled in purple lipstick. “You know you leave tomorrow, right?”

Steve turns back to the bar and signals for a shot of something, anything really. He sips at his beer in the interim, letting Eddie’s declaration linger in the air between them.

They drink in silence until Robin stumbles in, dragging Steve away claiming “besties before the resties!”

He spies you and Dustin chatting nearby, you catch his eye with a lascivious and exaggerated wink before throwing your head back in laughter at something the dingus had said.

The party rages on for hours— he’s already packed and ready to go for his flight tomorrow, and he knows you’d put a lot of effort into this send off, but Steve would like nothing more than to wrap himself around you and fall into bed. Eventually someone catches onto this and alerts the guests that they “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Steve doesn’t know who to thank for that, Nancy maybe. He’ll figure it out later. At that moment, he was more concerned with getting those glasses out of your hands and that garter belt on the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You’d asked in the early morning light, watching as he stumbled into his pants and threw on a shirt.

Your face was freshly scrubbed of your makeup from last night, soft and open as your eyes trailed him from your spot in his bed.

He was a weak, weak man when he’d sat down with a sigh and asked, “Tell me not to go?”

He can hear you shuffle across the bed, can feel the warmth of your body as it drapes against his back.

“Tell me not go to,” Steve continues, “Tell me to blow off my dad, the Harrington destiny, tell me to fuck it all and that I can figure something else out.”

You nose along the column of his throat, lips settling at the nape of his neck. His hand finds its way to yours, arms wrapped against his shoulders, fingers dancing along his collarbone. He links a solitary finger with yours crooking into each other like monkeys in a barrel.

“Oh babe,” You sigh, the pet name rolling prettily off your tongue, “You know I won’t do that, as much as I would delight in smearing the Harrington name.”

You grip him all the tighter.

“You have a plane to catch and a life to start. A life you were dragged kicking and screaming into but you know what?”

“What?”

“The only way out is through, Steve.” You rest your head on his shoulder, continuing, “The changes you want to make? Well, it’s your life so make them. Who’s going to stop you? You’re a blue-blood white man in a world built to serve people like you.”

“Are you going to lecture me about the patriarchy? Because it’s too early for that—"

“I’ll spare you, just this once.” You tease, “But no, I’m just saying that you have options and it’s a year away from your father. Take advantage of it.”

Steve knows you mean well, that you’re trying to put a positive spin on his departure but still, it hurts.

He stands back up with what he hopes is a believable smile on his face. He expects to see you settled back in the sheets when he turns around, not hopping on one leg as you attempt to jam your foot into your Vans with one hand, while clawing into a bra with the other. Somehow, you’re already in sweatpants.

He can barely restrain his laugh, “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, accompanying you to the airport, duh.”

And if his heart wasn’t already broken, surely this would’ve been the nail in the coffin.

“No, don’t get up.”

“Too late for that.”

“My bags are already in the car,” He tries again, trailing after you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

“Great! Do we have time for coffee?”

“No, seriously,” Steve catches your hand before it can land on the doorknob, tugging you back from the door.

“But,” Your voice has lost its joking tone and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I have to say goodbye. I have to wave at you from the gate.”

“They won’t let you past security.”

“Then I’ll wave from there,” You say with a sniff, blinking the tears from your eyes. “I have to go, please.”

Steve, in that moment, chooses to glance up at the rafters of his loft apartment in an effort to keep his emotions in check. So he misses how greedily your eyes take him in, as if it’s for the last time, how you’re biting your lip so hard as to draw blood.

And by the time he looks back down again, you’ve found a spot on the floor to stare steadily at.

“Hey,” He says, curling a finger under your chin prompting you to glance up. Steve gives you a watery smile at best before imploring, “I need you to listen to me, please.”

He waits for your nod of assent before continuing.

“Everything is all set— I’ve paid the rent on the apartment for the next year, so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you won’t use the car service, but there’s a few more weeks left on that too, so.”

Your face falls with the finality of it all. That Steve is actually leaving, that he’ll be in Europe for the next year “growing up” as his father intended. And that maybe you should’ve done more to help him want to stay.

“There’s a ticket for you on the counter for after midterms, I’ll meet you in London and we can do whatever you want, just like we agreed.”

You nod quickly and take a short breath. He kisses you on the forehead and promises to call once he lands.

As his hand twists open the door, you blurt out:

“Please don’t do this. Let me come with you to the airport. You’re going to be gone for so long and—"

“Baby.”

And you know he’s serious because that diminutive is solely reserved for when you’re at least two orgasms deep and he’s got your knees up by your ears. Sweat-slick and ruddy-mouthed, your whole world narrowed to focus on him, desperate longing veiled by throes of passion.

Steve doesn’t even turn back, and you can hear how his voice shakes. “If you go with me, I won’t get on the plane.”

Your arm drops from where you’d reached after him, hadn’t even registered the action as you did it.

In a small, guilty voice you say, “I know.”

The muscles of his back feather as he sighs, his grip on the doorknob knuckle-white. He knows you can’t really mean it, that it’s the scared, vulnerable part of you stumbling as you offer him an olive branch; a way out.

In the end, he got on the plane anyway.

Smash-cut to a year later, the same college green but this time it’s not him in the graduation cap and gown. Steve took the week off for your graduation festivities, flew back into Logan then rented a car for the drive to Cambridge. Made nice with your parents and grandparents, shook your grandfather’s hand politely when he’d said that Steve was a “fine boy from a fine family,” and tried in vain to forget the fact that this is the same man who’d learned his granddaughter was sexually active with him, mind you, in front of no less than a missionary, a minister, and a rabbi.

But all of that is neither here nor there, as you clap politely for the newly engaged couple, pinning your mortarboard beneath your elbow. And because he knows you, Steve catches your eye roll sequence, surely at the audacity of That Man who proposed on his girlfriend's graduation day, from Harvard no less.

He snatches the satin covered cardboard from you, and throws an arm around your shoulders walking you toward the rager of a graduation party Eddie was throwing at your apartment.

“I know,” He says conspiratorially, relishing as you lean into him. “God forbid a woman do anything.”

Your laugh is a good distraction for him, something loud and joyful to focus on as the ring box in his left pocket sinks like a stone.

[starlost97]

— boast.

summary: You and Lance decided to keep your relationship secret for the first few months, and he was fine with that. But he wasn't that ok anymore when rumors started going around about you being with another driver.

tags: fluff, hard launch, Lance Stroll is jealous, Lance Stroll the boyfriend™️, brazilian!reader, f!reader.

characters: Lance Stroll, Felipe Drugovich (mentioned).

warnings: jealousy? is that a warning or a invitation?

a/n: lance is so boyfriend it's actually insane. also I was very inspired by mr arastoo vaziri from the tv show bones. like?? excuse me?? "loving you is the easiest thing in my life right now. i want to boast to the world about it, but that's just my ego"???? this man.

word count: 273.

requested?: yes! by a friend.

Lance’s love for you was something that anyone that had any contact with the two of you could see.

But sometimes he forgot that the internet, the fans and the media still didn’t know about it.

If it were for Lance, he would’ve posted photos with you after day one, but you thought that it was better to wait some weeks to see how things would go, so he respected it.

When people started rumoring that you were going out with Felipe Drugovich, though, he wasn’t really that calm anymore.

Sure, they did spend a lot of time together, but it was mainly because you both were brazilian and could speak in portuguese freely, not because you two were in a relationship. Drugovich even talked to Lance about it and kind of apologized for it, even though it wasn’t his fault.

Lance thought for a moment that he would go insane with the amount of images that went through his head of you, his girlfriend, with someone else.

You, however, saved him from insanity by allowing him to tell the world about you.

And that’s exactly what he did.

The picture that he posted made anyone that saw it go crazy about it. Not only because his relationship with you was announced, but also because it was more than just a picture.

You were wearing a short, off-shoulder green dress, while he wore a white unbottoned shirt. His hands supported your waist as he dipped you and smiled against your cheek.

He didn’t even need to think twice about the caption.

“I can’t believe I can finally boast to the world about you.”

[redr0sewrites]

Ok i really liked your aftercare headcanon with Lucifer and i was wondered if could do same for Adam? cuz i pretty sure that this guy doesn't know that such thing exist lol

YESSSS!!!! i love putting adam in Situations™️ where he gets over his weird toxic masculinity bs for reader

🥀Cw: implied/mentioned sex, fluff, cleanup, soft adam

the first few times you and adam are intimate he definitely struggles with aftercare

your probably his first relationship in a while, and he's not good at pillow talk or anything soft post-sex

however, adam does want to try for you, and while he will be a little awkward at first, over time he gets the hang of it

once you two are finished adam will collapse besides you, pressing a kiss to your temple and cuddling close. you both stay like this for at least a few minutes before you get up to start cleaning

the first few times you guys had sex, adam would always ask where you were going/what you were doing and basically learned by watching you

adam would totally be the type to run you both a bath, filling it with soaps and watching the bubbles form

he's also not the type to get icked out by stains or fluids or anything like that, so he can also handle cleanup duty

while adam can clean and get everything situated, he doesn't want to. adam definitely prefers to just cuddle you and keep you close after sex, and after especially long nights, he'll be too fucked out to do much and will just hover close to you while you cleanup

honestly you don't mind, you see that he's trying and learning about proper aftercare is a slow but steady process

you see, aftercare builds a lot of trust, and is a way to undo anything harsh done during sex. adam was quite literally created to have sex and populate the earth, and he doesn't usually associate sex with comfort. aftercare becomes very important to him once he sees how important it is to you, and he genuinely wants to treat you with respect

once you both have been thoroughly washed and the bed has been cleaned, adam is practicing attatched to you. he's clinging to you like theres no tomorrow, and most of the time he won't even give a reason (but deep down it's because he's a little afraid you'll just get up and leave)

adam loves when you praise him during aftercare and adores hearing you talk about all the things you enjoyed about the night. everything he did right, what makes you feel good, etc. he also wants input about what you may not have liked, adam wants to pleasure you as best as possible and during aftercare is when he's more willing to discuss your do's and don'ts of sex

you and adam definitely had a pre-sex conversation about kinks and safewords and all those important things, but during aftercare is when he's much more open about stuff that may be more embarrassing to admit outside of the soft, post-orgasmic haze that fills his mind during aftercare

adam adores admiring you and your body during aftercare. he loves seeing the marks he left on you, and will memorize every curve and crease of your body. adam actually enjoys nonsexual nudity during aftercare as it gives him an excuse to hold your bare body close to him

as previously mentioned, adam loves when you praise his performance during sex, but he also definitely enjoys it when you praise his body as well- it definitely raises his ego

adam also doles out his fair share of praise, and makes sure you know how much he enjoys being witb you intimately

ADAM LOVES WHEN YOU WEAR HIS CLOTHES DURING AFTERCARE TOO. you throw on one of his oversized band shirts because you're too tired to get into real pajamas? he's tackling you in a hug and engulfing you in cuddles on the spot

adam, surprisingly enough, gives pretty good massages. his hands are literally huge and very skilled (get ur mind out of the gutter ik what yall r thinking) which comes to use a lot during aftercare and massages.

his voice also gets a lot huskier after sex, kinda like morning voice, he's just much more tired and relaxed. if you ask him to, adam may be willing to sing to you as you drift to sleep, but don't you DARE mention it outside of the bedroom or he'll turn bright red and deny it

adam's chest heaved as he collapsed besides you on the bed, the mattress shifting you towards him as the cushion adjusted to the additional weight. "adam," you murmur, gently running your hand through his hair as he nuzzles into your chest. "you okay? was i too rough t'night?" adam chuckles, his voice low and raspy as he replies, "nah, you were fine. what about me, was i too hard on you? how d'you feel, doll?" adams voice slurs slightly as he presses a few kisses to your collarbone, his short beard tickling you and causing you to giggle. adam looked up at you, hearts practically forming in his eyes as he watched your face crinkle in amusement at his tussled hair and sleep mussed expression.

"im okay, maybe a little sore," you reply, and adam shoots you a cheesy wink. you give him a light slap on the shoulder before turning to wriggle out of his grasp, much to your lovers dismay. "where'r you headed?" adam pouts, looking up at you with furrowed brows. "i am going to go start cleaning," you reply, moving to get out of bed. adam grumbles, but follows suit, rolling out of bed and following you to the bathroom. you can't help but smile as you watch him nonchalantly begin to start setting up the bathtub, turning on the running water and getting out towels for the both of you. you quickly replace the bedding of your shared mattress and put the dirty sheets in the wash for you to deal with in the morning. once you returned to the bathroom, a pleasant steam had filled the room and adam was placing bath bombs into the tub. "i figured we could make it fancy", he mumbled, turning away as you smirked. "it's NOT like i like them or anything, its just stupid bubbles..." adam huffs and you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before getting into the tub. adam sighs, grumbling as he joins you. "y'know i love you, right?" you whisper, moving to sit with your back to his chest. " 'course. i love ya too, toots,"

i love him i love him i love him i love him sm- i really love soft adam even if it's slightly ooc i feel like if he was with someone he really trusted enough to let his guard down with he could be a total sweetheart. it would take time ofc, but i genuinely don't think he's a horrible person at heart (im delulu :)

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 1

Jason meets Single Dad Danny who is taking care of a de-aged Dani while trying to get his degree at Gotham U. Both of them fall hard, hijinks and shenanigans ensue, simping on both sides.

Edit: background info/lore found here

Edit: part 2 now found here

~~~~

Step 1: Meet an attractive single parent

As a Crime Lord/vigilante Red Hood had multiple safe houses that he used in and out of the mask. Some were for each exclusive identity to prevent anyone from linking them together and others used for both. Currently, Jason was walking out of his 2nd favorite safe house and the mostly permanent residence of “civilian and non-profit worker: Jason Todd” with a plate of cookies and a pan full of lasagna for his new neighbors that moved in two doors down. He may have been a street rat but he’d be damned if Alfred and Talia hadn’t taught him hospitality (it was a fact of life that grandparents and Asian people would try to feed their guests like their honor depended on it). Plus it was a great way to do some reconnaissance on whether or not these new neighbors could potentially pose an issue. The apartment complex was on the border of Crime Alley and Burnley meaning the people who lived there weren’t doing too hot money-wise but were at least able to avoid the worst of Crime Alley. Jason was just planning to go over introduce himself, hand over the homemade food, and head off to a different safe house to get his gear and patrol. However, he was not expecting to see his new neighbor standing outside struggling to open his own door, a six-year-old on his hip, arguing with someone over the phone. The young man had a lean build and appeared to be no older than 20, give or take a year or two. He had black bangs that cast a shadow on his face making his eye-bags appear even darker and startling blue eyes clouded with anger and resentment, likely towards whoever was on the phone. He was so occupied with his conversation he didn’t seem to notice that someone else had stepped into the hallway. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a loose white shirt with a NASA logo on it that slightly hung off his shoulder. He also wore a black hoodie with a white hood and neon green accents that seemed to be subject to his sister(?)’s death grip. Despite his disheveled state, there was something about his new neighbor that drew him in. His aura washed over Jason like a cool breeze on a hot day making it hard for Jason to look away. He would have continued assessing the man if he hadn’t made eye contact with the identical blue eyes of the young girl perched on his hip, who looked at him with a curious sparkle in her eyes. He discreetly turned back around to lock his own door, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation the elder (brother?) seemed to be having. It could provide some info on these new neighbors.

“-shut up Vlad! I’m not moving into your rich guy penthouse! I wouldn’t be taking any of your shady money if I didn’t need child support for Ellie!”

Huh. So her dad/guardian then?

“ Of course I have to do this Vald! What’s the other option, sending her back to a Frootloop like you?! … I’m not going to abandon Ellie for something that wasn’t her choice. She didn’t ask to be created Vlad that’s why she gets a chance.”

Okay so setting aside the rather concerning parts New Neighbor Guy™️ was definitely that child’s parent. Seems fairly rational as well.

“How do I know you’d be a terrible guardian? Plenty of reasons, do you want the list chronologically or alphabetized! You violated me, who you said you wanted to adopt despite me having two living parents, you created Ellie and several other failed attempts without my knowledge, you hid her from me, you tried to teach her to hate me before we even met, you named her Danielle after me instead of giving her her own identity, the list goes on and on Vlad! Do you want me to continue because that’s just the stuff that involves Ellie— I was 14, you middle-aged vampire look-alike! Of course I wasn’t jumping at the chance to become a teen dad! I was a freshman in high school! Besides you know what my parents are like, lab safety regulations were more like a healthy suggestion to them. I was in no position to be taking care of a child!”

Rage flashed in Jason’s eyes as he tightened his grip on his glass Tupperware pan full of lasagna. This conversation was not painting a pretty picture about his neighbor’s situation. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself before belatedly realizing his neighbor had gotten real quiet. He turned around, catching the tail end of his neighbor’s conversation as he finally succeeded in opening the door.

“Whatever Vlad, just keep paying your child support and for Ancients’ sake please stop trying to date my mom. …. Yeah, yeah screw you too Count Chocula.”

The neighbor set his daughter down, likely so she could enter the apartment, and slipped his phone from between his head and shoulder into his hand to hang up on that Vlad guy. Now seemed like as good a time as any to approach. Jason walked up the the young man and coughed trying to get his attention. The young man met Jason’s eyes with a somewhat surprised look. As if he wasn’t unaware of Jason’s presence but hadn’t expected him to talk to him. Jason decided he should start speaking now before things got too awkward.

“Uh- Hi, I’m Jason. I live a few doors down in 357,” he said glancing at the 353 on his neighbors’ door before he continued. “I heard you moving in a few days ago and thought I’d swing by with some food to welcome you to the building.” He stuck out his hand for the other to shake.

“Hi I’m Danny, Danny Nightingale,” he said taking Jason’s hand and ‘Wow his hands are cold’, “ and this little munchkin here is Ellie!” Danny and Ellie flashed him matching smiles like twin suns making Jason's heart melt. He returned their smiles before extending the food to Danny.

“ I don’t know if you’ve had time to get groceries yet but here’s some homemade lasagna if you need a quick meal while you’re getting settled,” he then crouched down to Ellie’s level and stage-whispered in her ear conspiratorially “ and there are some chocolate chip cookies on that plate too.”

Ellie giggled out a thank and threw her arms around Jason’s neck, giving him a quick hug before letting go and dashing into the apartment. Jason watched her go, stunned but feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He turned his attention back to Danny, who shook his head and huffed amusedly. They made eye contact as Jason rose and realized he was a head taller than the guy. He felt the heat expanding in his chest and crawling up his neck, curling behind his ears. He decided now that Ellie had gone in it would be a good time to talk to Danny about what he overheard.

“ So it really wasn’t my intention to do so but I overheard some of that conversation you were having over the phone earlier,” he watched Danny’s smile drop a bit as he winced. Jason awkwardly brought up his hand to scratch the back of his neck and continued.

“ Look I don’t wanna insert myself into your situation but if you ever need help I’m just a few doors down. And if that guy gets pushy or stops sending his child support I can help you find a couple of avenues you can take. Plus, although we’re technically outside Red Hood’s territory I’m sure he wouldn’t mind extending protection over you like he does for the other Crime Alley folk if ya really need it.”

Danny’s face smoothed out looking a bit flushed and appreciative as he went on. He gave Jason a small smile and replied, “ Thank you for the offer. I really do appreciate it. Might just take ya up on it at some point. As for Red Hood? I think I’ll avoid needing the protection of a crime boss vigilante if I can help it. Don’t worry too much about Vlad though. I’ve got him handled currently and he’ll behave if he knows what’s good for him!” Danny smiled threateningly towards the end of his reassurance. (‘His canines are peaking out that’s so cute’)

Jason chuckled with Danny as their eyes locked once more. They stayed lost in each others’ eyes for what seemed like hours before they heard a thump followed by a small “oof” coming from inside the apartment. Danny turned to the door and called out to Ellie,

“Ellie, what was that? Are you okay”

“I’m fine! My shirt just fell!”

“That sounded heavier than a shirt?”

“I was in it!”

Danny sighed, shaking his head before turning to Jason once more.

“Thank you again for the food, any chance you’d like to come in and have something to drink?”

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to decline. I need to start heading out for work.”

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep you. I’d hate to make you late for work.” He waved goodbye as Jason nodded his head and started walking down the hall.

His neighbors seemed entirely harmless he decided as he walked away. ‘The kid was cute’ he thought to himself. A smaller voice from the back of his head that sounded vaguely like the Pits chimed in ‘Her dad was even cuter.’

~~~~~ Please let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more of this. I thrive on feedback so feel free to leave any notes or comments!

[softspiderling]

risk it all | b.r.b

summary: the gym fic™️

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

warnings: breaking gym etiquette, thirsty reader

word count: 3,4k

author's note: coming back with a bang i guess🤪thanks to jordan, may and sol for the continuous support ily guys.

He was staring.

You thought it was a fluke at first, that he was looking at someone that was standing behind you, but there wasn’t anyone. 

You had checked. 

Several times. 

The moment you realized that he was looking at you, you started sweating profusely. And it wasn’t because of the exercise, even though it was indeed kicking your ass. You weren’t a gym junkie by all means, and you didn’t even know if you were doing the exercise correctly. 

About your second rep in, you had enough and lifted your head to meet his gaze head on. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he had the decency to flush when he turned his eyes away. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, you finished your last rep, picking up your water bottle and taking an angry swig from it. You glared daggers at the man, who had his back turned to you by now and headed to the changing rooms, grabbing your stuff.

“What’s got you all hot and bothered?” Natasha asked when you came home, kicking the door shut behind you. 

“There was an asshole at the gym who was staring at me.”

Natasha pulled a face, twisting her hair into a bun, the heat of the stove getting to her. 

“You know I keep telling you to come to my gym instead.”

“UGH! I wish I could, but I literally just made a year-long contract with my gym like two months ago,” you groaned, dropping down on the couch like a sack of potatoes. “Couldn’t you have told me about your gym before I made my contract?”

Natasha peaked her head out of the kitchen to laugh at you and you couldn’t even be bothered to glare at her. It was weird how comfortable you were around each other, even though you’ve barely known each other for a month. You had posted an ad online that you were looking for a roommate and after countless interviews with people that were okay-ish, but not really your vibe, you met Natasha at a coffee shop and after bonding over your lactose-intolerance, you offhandedly mentioned you were searching for a roommate.

Yeah.

Admittedly a very weird thing to bond over, but now you always had a carton of oat milk and a carton of coconut milk in your fridge and a very cool roommate. 

“Well, then you gotta power through it. I’m sure you won’t see him again, and if you do, don’t hesitate to confront him, babe,” Natasha said, ever the strong woman. “Now go shower, you stink. Dinner is ready soon.”

She disappeared back into the kitchen and you forced yourself up, dragging a hand over your face, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You always liked to think that you were as strong as she was, but all your bravado usually left you as soon as you opened your mouth.

You just hoped you wouldn’t see him again, so you didn’t have to confront him at all.

The next time you were at the gym, it was about two weeks later and you had completely forgotten about the guy. Over the past week, it had gotten unbearably hot and you couldn’t find the strength to go to the gym to sweat even more so you gave yourself a time off until it cooled down again. It wasn’t exactly chilly, but at least it wasn’t that humid in the gym. The gym wasn’t packed as it usually was around this time, so it didn’t take you long to get through your workout. When you sat down on one of your last machines, you tensed slightly when you saw him right across from you, doing weighted pull-ups. 

To your annoyance, you realized that he was hot. 

Like, really hot. 

The shirt he was wearing was thin and white, miles of defined muscle just underneath,  His arms were huge, biceps straining as he pulled himself up and then lowered himself again. With a grunt he dropped down from the bars and you quickly averted your gaze, getting busy with your own weights. When you were all done, you straightened up your back and started the exercise, seeing how he was standing basically straight across from you, slightly to the left. 

Opting to just stare into the mirror on the other side of the wall, you could still see him looking at you out of the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t help it, but for a split second, you glanced over to him. Unlike the last time, he actually held your gaze and until you turned away, your cheeks turning red. 

God, what a fucking dick. 

You dropped the weights with a loud thunk, reaching for your phone.

roomie one: that fucking douchebag is here again

roomie two: Gym starer?

roomie one: … yes

roomie two: Get him!

roomie one: i’m not going to confront him in the middle of the gym

roomie two: Well, he’d deserve it.

The timer on the chest press indicated that your resting time was over, so you put your phone away. getting back to your workout. While you had been texting Natasha, gym starer had gotten back on the bar, his back to you. Small beads of sweat started to form on the nape of his neck, running down the back of the straining shirt that stretched across his shoulders every time he flexed his arms to pull himself up. 

After a while, you realized that you had done way more reps than you were supposed to, your muscles aching in protest. Cursing, you dropped the weights, gently this time, and wiped your face with your towel. Lifting your head, you could see that he was looking at you again and since you didn’t want to be that creepy person who stared at someone else in the gym, like he kept doing, you decided it was enough for the day and went to the locker rooms. Luckily, no one was in there, so you leaned your head against the cold metal of the lockers, letting out a frustrated scream. 

“Cut your workout short?” 

Wordlessly, you held your hand up, shutting the front door behind you, too annoyed with yourself to talk, and Natasha raised an eyebrow at you, putting her book away. Dropping your gym bag on the floor, you took a seat at the dining table and laid your head down. 

“He’s hot,” you muttered against the wooden surface. 

“I didn’t understand a thing.”

With a long sigh, you lifted your head, looking at Natasha with a pout. “Gym starer. He’s hot.”

“Ah, so now he’s not the creepy gym starer anymore,” Natasha snorted, putting her feet on the coffee table and you glared at her. Because she was right. Screw double-standards.

“God, you should’ve seen him,” you moaned, covering your face with your hands. “His arms are huge. And his shirt was so thin, I could basically see through the fabric and ugh-”

Natasha pulled a face. “Gross.”

“Shut up. Not everyone can like women,” you huffed, standing up. “I need to take a shower. 

“Yeah you do, you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Jesus, Tash,” you exclaimed and Natasha only cackled at you as you headed to the bathroom to grab a shower, hoping to wash this dirty feeling away. While you stood under the stream of the water, you let out a sigh. You could not develop a crush on gym starer. That would be against your principles and it would be just, really fucking inconvenient. 

Unfortunately you weren’t one of those girls who got cute gym sets and looked like they just walked out of a Lululemon ad. Instead, you wore the most basic black running tights with a random sports bra and your hair ALWAYS stuck to your sweaty forehead, no matter how you wore it. And it was fine with you, because you weren’t going to the gym to pick up guys, you went there to stay fit and challenge yourself.

But a gym crush? No thanks. 

Toweling your wet hair, you exited the bathroom, leaving the door open so the warm air could escape. You plopped down on the couch next to Natasha and crossed her arms, looking at you in amusement.

“Have you ever thought about why he’s staring at you?”

“He’s probably laughing at me because I’m doing the exercise all wrong. Or because I sweat so much.”

“Or he’s into you?”

“And that’s why he’s staring at me?” you scoffed, draping the towel around your shoulders, tugging it from both ends. “He’s probably just like one of those weird gym rat bros who judges everyone who doesn’t go to the gym every day. I mean, he’s fucking ripped, Tash.”

“I know, you already said that!” Natasha groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m heading out for drinks with my squadron soon. Do you want to come along? Maybe you can find someone hot who will take your mind off of gym starer.”

“I doubt it. Maybe next time, Tash. Thanks for the invitation, though.”

You exhaled as you pushed through the last reps of your first set, your legs trembling. It took you a few days until you dared to go back to the gym. You were terrified you’d get caught staring at gym starer (oh the irony in that phrase), but when you were certain that you’d forgotten what he had looked like, you packed your bag and went to the gym. 

Relaxing your legs, you lifted them out of the machine when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone standing next to you. Pausing, you glanced at him, just to see gym starer looking at you. His mouth was moving, but the music from your headphones was too loud. Holding up your finger, he pressed his lips together until you tugged the headphones out of your ears.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Um…” Gym starer paused, his cheeks red. “I- uh… I wanted to know how much longer you’re gonna take on the leg press.”

“Oh. Uh, two more sets?”

“... Okay,” he said, pausing like he wanted to add something, but then quickly turned on his heel, walking away.

Furrowing your brows, you put your headphones back into your ears. Weird. As you shifted your weight in the seat, you looked to the right, doing a double take when you saw the other leg-press, unoccupied. 

“What the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, leaning your hands on your legs. When you left the gym twenty minutes later, gym starer was nowhere to be seen. 

A few days later, you were lounging on the couch, catching up with some of your favorite tv shows. You needed a break from the gym, at least until you’d get your thoughts sorted. You didn’t know how he did it, but whenever you walked into the gym he was there, even though your gym routine was pretty irregular. Just as the credits of the latest Suits episode started rolling, Natasha suddenly barged into the apartment, making you jump.

“Jesus, what the hell?”

“I’m heading to the bar with my squadron, do you want to come with me?”

You sighed, burrowing deeper into the couch. “I don’t know… I’m so comfy. And I don’t even know anyone there.”

Natasha gave you a look, leaning her hands into her hips, which could only mean that you were about to get a lecture from her. You gulped. 

“You don’t know anyone because you always turn me down whenever I ask you to come out, seriously! I am not accepting a no.”

“Fine, okay,” you huffed with wide eyes, raising your hands in defense. “Just let me get changed, I guess.” With a nod, Natasha disappeared into the bathroom while you headed to your bedroom to get changed, reluctantly. While you were miffed that your plans of staying in had been thrown over, you respected Natasha enough to admit that she was right. Half an hour later, a cab dropped you off at the beach, in front of a small bar aptly called the Hard Deck. 

“Hey, is this like, a Navy bar?” you asked Natasha with a frown as you walked through the door. 

“Yeah. I did tell you that we were getting drinks with my squadron.”

Letting your eyes roam when you got inside, you noticed that almost everyone was dressed in uniform, one way or another, but luckily, there were some people dressed in civvies, so you wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. You stopped mid-walk, when you saw him, narrowing your eyes.

Gym starer. Because of course he’d be here. 

God was just pulling on all the strings in your life and laughing at you like you were his personal entertainment. It took gym starer a few seconds to spot you, but when he did, he basically spat out his beer all over the counter. 

“Jeez Bradshaw, what’s gotten into you?”

Natasha laughing, having rounded the bar, standing behind gym starer and clapping him on the back and while you gaped at her.

“You know him?”

Gym starer - Bradshaw, or whatever - was coughing, his cheeks flaming red as Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. 

“He flies with me. Bradley Bradshaw- Rooster’s in my squadron.”

“He’s gym starer.”

“I’m what?” 

“Ew,” Natasha only said, looking Bradley up and down, clearly unhappy with him. “Do you not know gym etiquette?”

“I wasn’t staring!” Bradley protested. “I mean, maybe I was, but I didn’t mean to. I swear.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I need a drink,” you muttered, moving over to the bar to flag down the bartender. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Natasha berating Bradley and him scowling at her, a bit miffed, before she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Hey, what can I get you?” 

Turning your eyes away, you looked at the smiling bartender. 

“Gin and tonic?” 

The bartender gave a brief nod, and went on to mix your drink, handing it to you after you slapped a ten dollar bill on the counter. You sipped your drink through the small black straw, relaxing slightly as the liquid burned in your throat. Your relaxation was cut short however, when you realized Bradley was walking towards you, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. Taking another long sip, hoping the liquid courage would help you out of this incredibly awkward situation, you raised your chin to look at him. 

“I, uh. Was made aware that I might’ve come across as creepy,” Bradley said, his cheeks still pink. 

“You think?”

Bradley winced. “I’m really sorry. I don’t like to bother people during their workout, but I just didn’t know how I was supposed to start talking to you. And when I finally got the courage to approach you, you kind of shut me down.”

You narrowed your eyes in confusion, trying to think back when he came up to talk to you in the gym. 

“Wait… You mean when you asked me how many sets I had left?”

You didn’t think it was possible, but Bradley flushed an even deeper pink as he nodded. 

“Yeah… I actually kind of asked you out, but you didn’t hear me, so I just felt weird and made up a lame excuse.”

“Wait, what?”

Bradley chuckled nervously, and you only stared at him in disbelief. So Natasha was right. Now it was your turn to blush

“I didn’t realize,” you explained and Bradley waved his hands around, giving you an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. I’m sorry, again. I understand that you’re not interested, I am not here to pester you or anything, I just wanted to apologize.” Bradley turned to leave, but you stopped him, grabbing his arm.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested!” You protested, making Bradley turn back to you, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a grin. 

“Yeah?”

You let go of his arm, rolling your eyes a bit. It was comical how quickly his facial expressions could change.

“Why don’t we start over?” Bradley asked, offering his hand. “I’m Bradley Bradshaw, nice to meet you.”

*

Zoe straightened her back after she adjusted her weights, letting her gaze wander through the gym. It wasn’t extremely busy and there were just a few people working out. She didn’t usually like coming to the gym after work, because she usually couldn’t get herself to leave her apartment after she got home. Today however, work was so crazy that Zoe had to release her stress somewhere, so gym it was. Zoe’s eyes stopped on the brunet guy when doing a double take when she noticed that his gaze was set on you and she could literally feel her eye twitch. 

She didn’t really know you, but she’s seen you around the gym sometimes when you were working out, always by yourself. The guy didn’t really seem too focused on his workout as he kept his eyes steady on you and Zoe bristled. Sometimes she really hated men.

Zoe tried to channel all her anger in her workout, while still keeping an eye on you just in case. Throughout her workout, she wasn’t able to keep her eyes on you for the whole time, but when she got into the changing rooms and saw you packing your bag, she sighed in relief. 

Shooting you a small smile, Zoe grabbed her bag and her jacket and headed outside, stopping in the doorway when she saw him waiting by the door. He looked up from his phone, looking at her puzzled when she only glared at him and turned on her heel to head back inside, the door falling shut in its hinges. She walked towards you, waiting until you looked up before she spoke.

“Hey, I’m Zoe,” she said and you introduced yourself as well, if a bit bewildered. 

“I’m sorry, I know we don’t know each other at all, but there’s this weird guy hanging around outside the changing rooms. We could walk to the parking lot together.”

“What?” you asked, confused and Zoe took a deep breath, laughing nervously.

“Um, there was this guy who kept staring at you while you worked out? I don’t know if you noticed, but he was pretty focused on you. He’s standing right outside the changing rooms like a creep.”

You blinked at her before your facial expression completely changed, as you burst out in laughter. Now Zoe was very confused. 

“Oh, please this is too funny. It’s really sweet of you, but I’m okay, really. He’s my boyfriend,” you explained and Zoe flushed. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a laugh. “He’s a bit dense sometimes. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

You swung your bag over your shoulder and Zoe had no choice but to follow you, even though she willed the ground to open up and swallow her whole. When you opened the door, your boyfriend slipped his phone into his pocket, surprised to see Zoe following you closely. 

“Hey, everything okay?” he asked as you only snickered, shaking your head at him. 

“Babe, this is Zoe. Zoe, this is my boyfriend, Bradley,” you introduced them, and Zoe could only plaster on a smile, while Bradley shook her hand, looking at you a bit lost. “Zoe thought you were creepy because you were staring at me the whole time like a creeper.”

“Oh,” Bradley muttered dumbly, his cheeks tinging pink. “Sorry, bad habit of mine. But thank you for looking out for my girl,” he told Zoe and she laughed nervously. 

“Sure. We girls gotta look out for each other, right?”

“‘course. Hey, when are you coming here next?” You asked and Zoe shrugged with her shoulders. 

“I’m not sure yet.”

You reached for your phone, holding it out to her. “We could go together, if you want? I’ll leave Bradley at home if we do, I promise.”

Bradley only groaned, turning his face away and your face was split open in a big grin, so Zoe only smiled as she punched her number into your phone, before handing it back to you. 

“Great, I’ll text you, okay,” you promised, putting your phone away. “It was really nice meeting you Zoe.”

“It was nice meeting you too, bye.”

Bradley only waved his hand in wordless goodbye as you left, his arm wrapping around your waist. As you walked out, Zoe could hear the beginnings of your conversation. 

“-you. It’s creepy and clearly, I’m not the only one who thinks that!”

“I’m sorry! You know I want to focus on my workout, but you keep distracting me, especially when you wear those leggings…”

x

a/n: i like to think that while bradley does have game, he can be quite dense sometimes hehe. i hope you liked it!

taglist: @littlebadariell // @labellapeaky // @solacestyles // @shaded-echoes // @madielake //  @diorrfairy // @luckyladycreator2 // @ssaic-jareau // @xoxabs88xox // @averyhotchner   // @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  // @tiredqueen73 // @alexxavicry // @classyunknownlover

[vhygoxo]

Wolf Pack Headcanons

My personal head canons on the shifters and what they get up to 🫶 I’ve been missing seeing wolf pack content. Plus there isn’t much info or anything on the Wolfpack outside of Jacob. Most of these come from the fact I know what it’s like to live on a rez. Debating if I should do nsfw head canons next 🤭

There’s hardly any down time for the shifters. Since the Cullens came into town there had been almost constant activity in the area. After the birth of Renesmee everyone thought it’d calm down. But instead activity got more frequent. Patrols and executions were part of their routine after a few years

When Vampire activity is low they still protect the rez in their own way. Most of the guys took first aid and security classes. Since chief and council know about the secret of the shifters they pay all of them (except the younger ones aka minors) through their security program. So when there are hardly any vampires they work in the security program

Everyone helps Emily with the household such as cleaning and cooking when they can. But most just help pay for the groceries since she feeds all of them

The rez has a mixed view of the shifters. To everyone they’re all secretive and intimidating. But because of how many people they’ve helped over the years they’ve also earned a lot of respect. Some believe they are arrogant and entitled to the rez. Others believe them to be protectors of the rez in a way. Sometimes people have issues with them to the point of harassing them. Sam, Paul, and Jared are usually the main targets. Like Bella thinking they are a gang ☠️

These guys all have trucks and drive everywhere+anywhere. Kim is the only one to own a car. They have many different chill spots around the rez (not just them but everyone in La push goes to these places) usually to drink and have bonfires

When they aren’t driving on the Rez they’re heading into town for some fun. Shopping sprees, eating out, and gambling is usually what’s on the agenda for these guys. Although they drive a lot locally it’s because they can’t travel too far

Everyone especially Paul dreams of the day they no longer have to shift. Once they stop they have all the freedom to travel and explore

The guys love to go mudding in their trucks and have contests

Emily has a projector and hosts movie nights in the backyard when it’s nice out

Emily and Kim craft and bead together. Emily does more sewing than beading, she’s made all the guys ribbon shirts, from youngest to eldest. Also enjoys making ribbon skirts occasionally especially Appliqué ribbon skirts. Kim loves to make beaded earrings and necklaces. These two give away more than they sell

Kim is always wearing big ndn girl™️ earrings. Beaded, quilled, dentillium, shells, you name it. (Once she wanted to make some out of Jared’s wolf fur but he refused. She found a way)

All of them are hella competitive with each other. And since they’re basically non human their strength and abilities are crazy. They all enjoyed testing their strength, think Bella and Emmett arm wrestling, same energy with these guys. Both in human and wolf form they strived to show off. The imprintees of them all had to take some time to get used to seeing such things. Like two mega beasts fighting on the front lawn, switching back to human, and playing it off like nothing

Paul, Leah, and Embry are the ones who struggle the most with being a shifter. In the beginning their rage and frustration was almost uncontrollable. Even as the years passed they still had moments where they burst out of control. (Once they imprinted the out bursts stopped completely) So these three became close since they were similar especially in their struggles

High energy for all of them. They have to find ways to burn off energy or else they legit couldn’t sleep. Which the solution is always intense exercise. Most times you’ll find Paul and Jared are competing to see who can do more push ups. Or the younger wolves doing relay races on their usual trails. Embry, Quil, and Jacob liked to box and spar with each other only. Leah and Paul get way too aggressive when sparring with everyone. It’s usually just Leah vs Paul if they really need to get rid of their aggression. Sam and Jared spar together since they actually follow the rules lol

Emily and Leah are still close and Leah never dated Sam lol

It wasn’t Sam that scarred Emily it was a rogue vampire. Sam punishes his self since he wasn’t fast enough to protect her. But he was quick enough along with Paul to stop the vampire before he could change her. It’s why Leah distrusts Sam. She believes he can’t protect her sister/cousin well enough and punishes him daily in their hive mind. Also constantly questions him as a leader

Quil and Kim are cousins lol I imagine them being close like brother and sister growing up. So it works well for them to be in the wolf pack together

For the shifters it’s hard for them to drink any alcohol. Not that they don’t it’s just that their body burns the alcohol quicker than normal humans. Smoking 🍃 actually has an effect on them like normal

Majority of them rarely drink, it started from Sam believing he needed to be in a clear mind, in order to be a leader. Not only that but being a shifter meant being very spiritually connected. And in most native cultures it’s believed that alcohol dulls the spirit. (Doesn’t stop some of them lol)

Quil, Embry, and Jacob were the first to start smoking 🍃 and out of the whole pack Quil is the biggest stoner. Claims it’s what “keeps him chill” since he doesn’t have a hard time shifting

They hunt game while they’re in wolf form. Natives love wild meat, deer, elk, moose, you name it. So them being able to shift makes it way easier to catch game. The guys gut and skin whatever they catch. Emily and Kim are usually the two who process the game. (Tbh it’s mostly Paul, Leah, and Sam bringing back game home because they raged out)

Everybody is in someway jealous of Jared and Kim. Since Jared had an easy time with shifting even in the beginning. And when he imprinted on Kim their relationship had always been easy and full of love even now

Jacob and Quil are the mechanics of the group. All the guys know some basic skills but these two are the best at it. Anytime anyone has issues it’s them who take care of it

It was actually Seth who took on his mom’s role and was training to become an emergency service provider. Eventually he wants a job in medicine. Leah knows basic cpr and first aid like the rest of the guys

All their minds are linked, when they shift they get a download, of what everyone was doing while not in wolf form. Nothing is secret or sacred lol they all know everything about each other. In their human form they’re still connected of course. But they have to get consent to connect telepathically in human form. In wolf form they have no control and everything is shared in the mind in an instant

Tbh around others especially in crowded places they gained their rep of being stoic and silent bc of this. Even in human form they talk more with each other in their heads than with their voice. Usually if they’re in a group but silent they’re talking in their heads to each other. They all have their own ways of blocking out certain things the others go through

The pack tolerates renesmee but pretty much just Emily and Kim visit her, out of pity and empathy, Jacob understood this well. Instead of making his brothers uncomfortable he’s usually with the Cullens. Occasionally he’ll come by his self but not for long. Sometimes he brings her but it’s usually short visits

Quil Atera III (quil’s grandfather) Billy Black, Harry Clearwater, and Sue Clearwater are one of very few people who know history of the shifters. Majority of what everyone knows about shifters is because of the knowledge they possess. The pack rely on these 3 the most

I felt this was enough head canons for now even tho I have way more lol. Hoping to upload one of my fics rewritten soon here. But I’m having fun with these wolf pack head canons for now. If you enjoy this and my writing feel free to send me an ask! I’m open for requests ✨

[writerthatcannotwrite]

Quick question.

You know the Dad Shirts™️, right? Or even better, the Apocalypse Dad Shirts™️? Or, if you look really closely, the shirt that Sam wore when he was first seen gardening in the Fellowship of the Ring, when Bilbo was narrating the wonders of the Shire? Yeah, the Dad Shirt™️.

These bad boys.

ANYWAY

Do you think that, given the opportunity, Fëanor would wear the Dad Shirt™️?

[meowzfordayz]

shiny

Author’s Note: sooo this was supposed to be for a college au, secretly dating trope suggestion (as well as for an emergency request for fluff 😅)… but then The H*rny™️ hit 🥴, and uhh, it turned into its own lil thing. 😏

shiny

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~2,200

CW: 18+NSFW, cream!pie, explicit language, Fem!Reader

~faqs~

“Sanemi, don’t you think she’s a little out of your league?”

Obanai’s stern tone does little to soften the reality behind his question, Sanemi once more reminded of why he can only watch—can only yearn—from a safe distance of ten physical feet, five invisible rungs on the social ladder, and one gigantic she-doesn’t-even-know-I-exist problem.

“Nobody’s out of my league,” Sanemi mutters, glare darkening with his trademark scowl, “She’s just shiny, is all. I’m easily distracted.”

“And that’s why you ignore me whenever she happens to be at the same dining hall as us,” Obanai snorts.

“Fuck-” Sanemi’s fork scrapes across his plate.

Raising an eyebrow, Obanai continues, “And also why you terrified those women away from their table.”

“-off,” fork stabbing loudly at his dry chicken.

“That just happened to be across from where she was sitting.”

“I said-” tearing sloppily into the overcooked meat. 

Mask stretching as Obanai grins, he makes his final push, “And forgot to eat your food after she made eye contact with you.”

Mouth full, words muffled, “-f’ck ‘ff!”

“If nobody’s out of your league, then why don’t you say,”—in a breathy, squeaky voice—“Hi, I’m Sanemi!”

Swallowing his bite in a single motion, “I don’t talk like that,” Sanemi glowers, “Besides, shiny things lose their sparkle the moment you touch them.”

“Whatever man,” Obanai scoffs, “Shiny things also tend to hate crude assholes.”

“I’ll crude your fucking asshole.”

Eyes rolling, Obanai switches gears, “So Mitsuri and I-”

Only to be promptly interrupted, fork waved aggressively in his direction, “Don’t fucking start on your goddamn perfect love life.”

“Perfect?” Obanai huffs, whining now, “Dude, you know how long it took for-”

“If this is supposed to be a roundabout pep talk or offering of love advice,” Sanemi stands, half finished plate in one hand, steel grip around his glass with the other as he tilts his head back to chug the remainder of his lemonade, “Just fucking don’t.”

Waiting in lines isn’t your strong suit, fingernails rapidly tapping your lukewarm plate, droplets of water glistening under the too familiar lighting of the dining hall. You’d already scratched off the faint remains of someone else’s lunch, not bothering to search for a new, cleaner plate — they all had some sort of residue. Lifting your gaze to survey the people ahead of you, you’re immediately hindered by the tall, broad stature of a white haired man, the tension in his back muscles emphasized by the tightness of his moss green shirt. Sighing quietly, you notice his neck twitch, the curve of his biceps discernible as his arms—presumably—cross in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, chatter, clang, and hiss of lunchtime swallowing your attempt to get his attention, “Hellooo.”

Somehow, his biceps flex harder, fabric of his shirt’s armholes stretching to accommodate his strength.

“Um, alright,” you mutter, refocusing on your plate, fingernails returning to their tapping, “Never mind, I guess-”

“If you want, you can cut me.”

You blink, vision flashing to the Beautiful purple eyed man turning around to face you.

“Are they real?” you gush, cheeks warming, eyes squeezing shut before you can process any shame.

“Pardon?” a teasing, incredulous lilt lingers in his voice, “I can see, if that’s what you’re-”

“No, like, are they contacts?”

If it wouldn’t hammer the final nail on your coffin of embarrassment, you’d slap yourself right then and there.

“Open your eyes,” he speaks softer now, “I’m not wearing contacts.”

Eyes opening sheepishly, you stick out your free hand, “Nice to meet you, I apologize, you probably get the eyes thing a lot,” they’re too pretty for you to not.

“I’m Sanemi,” he responds evenly, your hand untouched as his jaw clenches, “Are you going to cut me or not?”

“Or not,” you reply quickly, nose scrunching as you glance away, hand dropping limply, “I can wait.”

“Your incessant tapping suggests otherwise,” he—Sanemi—grunts, “If you’re not gonna cut me, then at least be less annoying to everyone else in line.”

You snort, “Are you usually this combative?” pointedly ignoring his jab.

“Usually, I don’t offer up my spot in line.”

“So does that mean I’m special,” you grin now, eyes glittering at the way his brow furrows, “Or just extra annoying?”

“Extra annoying,” he deadpans, “Definitely extra.”

With a friendly pout, you lapse into silence, shuffling forward an insignificant amount, inwardly cursing whoever poorly planned the university budget to short staff the dining halls.

“Y’know, you look familiar.”

Sanemi shrugs, back turned once more to you, shoulder blades rippling with the motion, “Makes sense.”

“What, am I not original enough for you?” you grumble, cheeks warming again as he whips around to glare at you.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, “To be nice? To be annoying? Because I’m bored and hangry and this line seems to go on for forever?!”

Lips twitching, he slowly gestures in front of him, still glaring, “Cut me.”

“No!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Before you can protest, he maneuvers himself behind you, impatience radiating from his body, lean muscles barely grazing your bare arms, goosebumps raising when he crosses his own, the view so much more defined from your new perspective. You’re too busy memorizing his physique to notice his reaction to your careful attention; too busy uttering his name under your breath, committing it to heart, to see the blush creep up his collarbones, his neck, his earlobes; too busy finally getting food to catch him opening, closing, then opening his mouth, a hushed And what’s your name? caught beneath hesitation and loneliness.

“Thanks Sanemi,” you say, waving cheerfully, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

His response falters in his throat as he watches you leave, gaze swiveling to eventually—reluctantly—make eye contact with Obanai. Good effort! Obanai gives him a thumbs up, just as Sanemi groans lowly, flipping him off.

“Sanemi,” you whisper, fingertips walking warmly across his scars, smooth and sensitive to the touch, his breath catching at the light pressure, “Promise me you were sober.”

Body vibrating with quiet laughter, he catches your hand, lips gentle and wet as he kisses each of your fingertips, “I don’t drink,” eyes flitting over to your haphazardly tossed clothing, “And you?”

“I had one,” you murmur, lifting yourself to roll atop him, straddling his waist, thighs sweaty and soft, heat stirring in his groin at the familiar position, “Way before you arrived.”

“Waited for me, hm?” he chuckles smugly, gripping your hips, kneading into your skin, a strangled hiss tightening his lungs as his cum leaks from your slippery folds to his stomach, “Didn’t think I’d see you at a party like this.”

“And I didn’t think you threw parties,” you quip back, reveling in the filthy squelch of your languid grinding, his rigid abdominals flexing shiny and divine against the bump of your clit, “Till your roommate introduced himself, invited me over,” draping yourself over his chest, tits heavy and warm on his sternum, voice promising and heady in his ear, “I didn’t think I’d be getting fucked tonight.”

“Me neither,” Sanemi rasps, cockhead swollen and smearing precum against the plush of your ass, erect again, “Didn’t think you’d show up on my doorstep,” grasping your jaw to present your neck to his bared teeth, nipping greedily, “Looking so fucking gorgeous, like you were begging for someone to devour you,” tongue swiping flat and messy at the hollow of your throat, his hips bucking upward for friction, “Good thing I found you first, hm? Good thing I got to your pretty mouth, to your beautiful cunt, before some other fuck.”

“Sanemi,” you whimper, tugging your head down slightly, just slightly enough to see the dangerous, hazy glint in his purple stare, “W-wasn’t here to f-fuck anyone.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” he teases lightly, releasing your jaw with a final, tender kiss to your chin, “Had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw you, laughing with your friends in the dining hall, that incredible smile of yours knotting my stomach,” swallowing thickly, dangerous edge fading as quickly as it surfaced, feather soft confession taking its place, “I must’ve become absolutely insufferable,” snorting amusedly, “If Obanai intervened.”

“I forgot to tell you my name,” you admit sheepishly, beginning your own parade of sloppy, heated kisses across the sheen of his collarbones, exertion from his first orgasm still evident, “Thought I missed my shot,” reaching behind you for his cock, deft thumb circling his tip, grinning at his unabashed moan, “Wondered how I could possibly recover from such an encounter with your mesmerizing hair and brilliant eyes,” winking playfully as you squeeze his cock, earning a halfhearted scowl, “Your gentlemanly gesture of saving me from my hanger.”

“Want to feel you again,” is your only warning, and then he’s bullying his cock between your folds, whining sharply as his tip nudges in, rhythm shallow and wanton, gradually stuffing himself further and further into your honeyed, dripping hole, “Fuck,” he grits out, your ass so perfect and weighted atop him, “You feel so fucking good.”

“Is this all you want?” you ask quietly, question nearly lost in the broadness of his chest, pussy clenching tight and overwhelmed around him.

“This?” he manages to scoff, his exasperated, adoring eyes meeting your unsteady, wide gaze, “‘Course not, I want to get to know you, your favorite color, how you look in the morning, what buttons I can push, when to say I’m sorry,” repetitive, gentle grunts underlying his reassurance as he continues thrusting torturously slow, “I’ve got a devastating crush on you, you idiot, so why the fuck would this be all I want?”

“Well you did just call me an idiot,” you giggle, back arching into his movements, his eyes glimmering at the display of your breasts.

He huffs, “Learn it or hate it, but s’my love language.”

“I’m thoroughly enjoying this love language,” you drawl, grabbing onto his shoulders, sweat trickling shiny and subtle as you readjust yourself, “I guess I could adapt to ~odd pet names too.”

As Sanemi’s pace hastens, second climax coaxed harsh and unrelenting from your body, he slips one hand from your hip to your sex, palm pressing strong and intense on your clit, the most stunning wail tearing feral and needy across his bedroom as you cum on his cock, thighs squeezing the air from his lungs, fingernails digging deeply into his shoulders, neck faintly mottled with the aftermath of his love biting.

Sunlight glows weakly through his blinds, the quiet pulse of your breaths preventing Sanemi from wiggling even an inch, too afraid of shattering the stillness of his dream. Your leg’s slotted comfortable and trusting between his own, fingers pressing soft dots into his chest, a sensation he wishes he could bottle for a rainy day. Thankful for his lack of drinking, and thus, lack of a hangover, his eyes blink closed, basking in the recollection of your unexpected passion, the shine of moonlight on your naked figure, the curve of your smile, hot and welcoming against his mouth.

“So how do I look in the morning?”

Your sleepily murmured question startles him, the uptick in your breathing having gone unnoticed, too deep in his reminiscence. Head tilting to better see you, he smirks fondly, gaze more serene without the exhaustion of the day settled in yet.

“Like you just woke up,” he says nonchalantly, nevertheless breaking into an endeared smile, muscular arm tugging you closer to him, so close you can see the flecks of muted silver in his irises.

“Hm, thank gosh it’s Saturday,” you yawn, limbs stretching in his embrace, toes finding purchase on his ankles, “I definitely did not set an alarm.”

“What dumbass would throw a party on a weekday?”

“Not you,” you retort sweetly, dramatically batting your eyelashes, “You’re not a dumbass.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbles.

“Already?” you wink lazily, “Don’t men have a refractory period or something?”

“I only came once last night,” he nearly pouts, hiding his expression in your sunwarmed hair.

“Right,” you chuckle, tender memories of being carefully wiped clean, and then snuggling into him, promptly passing out, floating contentedly through your vision, “You’re amazing.”

“Amazing enough to do this again?” his voice hardens, somehow moving further from you even as his body doesn’t move.

“Didn’t I already ask you that?” you reply gently.

“Yeah.”

Nose crinkling, you poke at his cheek, humming confidently, “I may not have had a devastating crush on you, but I obviously I like you, idiot.”

“Yeeeah,” he sighs.

“So we’re doing this again,” you remark plainly.

“Good,” he finally grins.

“Good,” you grin.

“Ugh,” he scowls, pretending to push you away, only to quickly pull you back into his embrace, pulse thrumming at the momentary distance.

“You weren’t saying that earlier,” you singsong, lightly tucking a longer strand of his hair behind his ear, cooing at its immediate redness, “You think Obanai heard us?”

“Fuck,” Sanemi grimaces, suddenly dreading his next conversation with his best friend.

“Poor guy,” you laugh, tone laced with mock sympathy, “Probably regrets inviting me.”

Shrugging, Sanemi pecks your forehead, voice gravelly as he mutters, “Nah, fuck him.”

[ashxketchum]

MY DEPRESSION HAS BEEN CURED MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ONE IMAGE THIS IS THE YEAR OF ADVENTURE PANDERING LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let's break this down one by one ~

This is such a good Sora fit I don't even know how to explain how very much OG Sora this is, the pink tones of the overall sporty outfit perfectly capture all levels of her personality. To top it off she's sharing flower themed cream sandwiches with Piyomon AAAHHH the subtle reference okay merch team you can take a w. Not to mention Sora is perfectly matching with Taichi and the fruit in her sandwich is orange stoooopppp itttt!!!!!

TAICHI OMG who is dressing this boy because that's the most he's ever jocked as a 11 year old. The sweatshirt, cargo pants, matching wristband and the sense to put his goggles down, he is winning the sporty casual fashion show for sure. And of course him and Agumon are enjoying some chicken popcorn, love how they weren't even subtle with the packaging art we all know Japan's favourite fried chicken brand anyway 🤣

Yamato. YAMATO. Y A M A T O. You're 11 can you tone down the cool guy heartthrob behaviour for a minute because I am losing my mind THE DOGTAG CHAIN IM GONNA SCREEAAAMMM ACTUALLY I AM SCREAAAMING AAAAHHHHHHH. He looks so good, there is absolutely no wrong element in his entire outfit, everything is perfectly paired up, a fashionista is among us. The little thumbs up over the onigiri that Gabumon is offering him?? Is he telling Gabumon that he's okay with having one and Gabumon can have the rest because that's the sweet, protective, kind, caring baby he is at heart???🥹🥹🥹The blue and green gradient in the background tho?? Mimato math is mathing bestiesss 🤣

Takeru is just a lil guy, but such a perfect lil guy!!! I like how his outfit has the similar green shade as his anime outfit but they still chose to gave him a new beanie instead which doesn't really match the colour tone of the rest of the fit but it's Takeru so we know that he can pull any hat off and that's what he does!!! Him and Patamon sharing burgers, okay mood, but why is he looking so surprised? I need to know what happened, did he spill some sauce on his overalls? Was the burger too hot to bite? WHAT HAPPENED TAKERU????? 😢

Jou, I see you paired up the plaid pants with a nice long, muted, warm toned jacket BUT I SEE THAT PURPLE SHIRT POKING IN FROM INSIDE and excuse me sir but why that purple with the plaid 😭 I need to see a version where Jou isn't wearing the jacket so I can make an informed rating on this outfit but may I add that in the full merch pic he has paired this look with green and white sneakers...I cannot defend you I am sorry Jou, please try brown loafers next time 😭 But outfit aside, Jou eating a taiyaki with Gomamon is lowkey funny I just know that Gomamon cracked a Marching Fishes joke at least once.

Koushiro...I will not go into detail but I will say it's cute that you have a sweater with a little K on it, it's also very cute that there is a splash of orange in your outfit, who's attention are you vying for it isn't subtle at all bby boy and I am grateful you matched your shoes to your sweater even if the socks are definitely a choice and that blue with orange is also definitely another choice. Good to see your are making choices. I like that him and Tentomon are sharing dango, it's always nice to see Koushiro's fondness towards Japanese traditional snacks hinted at in some way.

MIMI. QUEEN. SLAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU NEVER EVER MISS MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. The pastel tones matched with the grey stockings for contrast, that beret and the fuzzy hem boots, you just know she shops at Takashimaya and Isetan and anything below it will just not do 👏🏻 Plus Sora and Mimi are wearing the same tones, which probably means that they pre-planned the outfits together, cuties!!! Also Crepe is such a Mimi™️ choice of dessert but I always get teary eyes when I see Palmon mimic Mimi's gestures, there is just so much love and admiration between them for each other, pure childish wonder 💚 And the crepe even has a cutesy character face on it, which kinda looks like Monzaemon, though I can't be sure but if it is then another win for a subtle reference. Not to mention both Yamato and Mimi look like they've dressed in a more cool and elegant style than the rest like they might be on their way to a date THE MIMAT MATH IS MATHING YALLL!!!

Hikari looks super cute, I think there isn't much official art of her in casual clothing for OG stuff so it's nice to see her in a more cutesy fit suited to her age. The hairband matching the cardigan is such a nice touch!! I can't recall any other casual outfit for OG design Hikari except the War Game and Memorial Party dress, so I think this would be the first time we see Hikari with a hairband and it just looks adorable. Of course she is sharing an ice cream with Tailmon, it's kinda their brand now but like Takeru she's making a surprised expression, perhaps she wasn't expecting Tailmon to offer her a bite of her ice cream?

To conclude, this is probably the best OG artwork we've gotten since Idk maybe the Rainy Day stationery series. This will be sold in advance at the Kamio Store booth at Anime Japan 2024. No other details were mentioned, but the event booth sale feels like a pre-sale before the goods become available more widely at other outlets, hopefully, at some stores that international fans have access too as well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Ayushi out.

[rosewaterandivy]

1.01 - Notes on a Scene

summary: a meet-fuck cute courtesy of The Hideout.

pairing: teacher!eddie x fem!reader

w.c.: 3.6k

warnings: modern! AU / 18 + no minors! / eddie is in his early 30s, in the tkaa timeline, this is set about two years after the epilogue, hook ups, fwb, Eddie being a menace, my usual filth™️

a/n: an Eddie-centric companion series to the kids aren’t alright. it’s not necessary to read the previous series, but there are certain plot points and characters that will be making an appearance here as well.

nota bene: feedback is always appreciated— reblogs, comments, likes, etc.— but reposting is not. Enjoy! 💜

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

🎵gonna melt the fever sugar, rolling back your eyes🎵

“Hey.” A man says as he scoots into the stool next to you. “Can I buy you a drink?”

You look up and around. The space is dimly lit, brick walls, wooden shelves, a very subtle we don’t give a fuck vibe. There are plenty of women around who are dressed to impress, but he is strangely alert and focused on you. You are sitting perfectly still in denim cutoffs and a t-shirt that has seen better days—grubby house clothes. Even your hair, piled on top of your head screams: go away.

“You look lonely.” He’s dressed in an open green flannel with a crinkled tee underneath, ripped jeans, and dark sunglasses perched on top of his head.

Blinking owlishly, you stare at him some more. This guy has got to be messing with you. You stick the tip of your thumb to your chest. “Me?”

“Yeah. What’ll you have?”

Um. Alone time, maybe? You’re still searching over his shoulder as he says this, stubbornly ignorant of your aloof vibe. You look again toward the door, plotting your escape. Is this guy the type of person to chase you down and stuff you in the trunk of his car? You try to smile.

“I’m uh—I’m ab–”

“Babe!”

A third voice cuts in and then suddenly an arm wraps around your shoulder, “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart.”

Your head turns to regard the rest of its owner and your heart leaps into your mouth. Sumptuous brown eyes encased in dark lashes. Corners lifted by a wide smile. They are looking lovingly down at you, and they are magnificent.

“Uh.” Nice job.

“Uh- you—you were waiting on someone?” The stutter is incredibly pathetic when your first suitor clocks the man with his arm around you. He’s deceptively built, much to your surprise. He’s sturdy too, from what you can tell with his side pressed up against yours.

“Yep. Boyfriend. Good to meet you.” His eyes crinkle at the edges, but there’s no kindness in that look. “Care to fuck off now?”

And fuck off he does. When the man slinks back to his group of buddies who are all snickering at him, you turn to your timely savior, “Thanks…”

“It looked like you might need some help.” He takes his arm back and sinks into the stool next to you. “Just playing the part—I’ll fuck off too in a second.”

You’re still too shocked to mouth off yet as you continue to take in the sight of him at your side. He leans over on his palm, takes a quick look behind your head, and then gives you a wink. “Your man’s turned around. I think you’re safe.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” You mumble, facing him, “That flannel was straight from the nineties.” And then you pause, feeling your mouth-motor whir to life. He’s wearing a black leather jacket. Black shirt. Ripped jeans. Long hair tied back half-way, a slight scruff gracing his jaw. Probably sharp as a knife under that. “You look pretty straight from the nineties too, grunge-boy.”

Beer sprays from where his lips touch the rim of the bottle. He hisses, wiping the dribble from his neck. It takes him another minute of fumbling before all the moisture is off, and you can see the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks from where he’s embarrassed himself.

“Where are you coming from?” You ask mischievously, “A Spinal Tap convention?”

“No. I’m a townie, thanks very much.” He crosses his arms. “Just having a drink at my local.”

“Good to know.” 

“My roommates…” He pauses to take a drink, “Well, I have a lot of them and they’re all coupled up.” He says plainly, “A man can only take so much.”

“So….” You sing, “You went out to… save helpless chicks from creeps?”

“Mmm,” he makes a show of sizing you up, eyes working slowly down your body. “I think you’re pretty capable of handling yourself, maybe a bit of a priss,” he decides, taking a long pull from his beer as the heat rises in your cheeks.

You want to laugh, but the shit-eating grin on his face doesn’t deserve to be encouraged right now. You can tell already he’s a real wild one, so you push the edges of your mouth down and pretend to find a lot of interest in grabbing your purse instead. “Well, mister, thanks for the saving. See you around.” You’re not above picking up a guy in a bar but why not tease him a little more while you’re at it?

He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and grabs your jacket off the back of the stool. “It’s Eddie.” He says, “My name.”

“Hmm, Edward, nice to meet you.”

“Not a chance,” he says with a roll of his eyes.

“I know what you are,” you continue voice flat, eyes glinting with mischief. 

C’mon, someone named Edward who looks like that, there’s no way he’ll take the bait.

His eyes fix on you, playful. “Say it,” he leans closer to you, drowning out the sounds of Joan Jett asking who wants to touch her where. “Out loud. Say it.”

Giving it your best Kristen Stewart, you go for it: “Vampire.”

“Fuck you very much.” He laughs, voice soft against the din of the bar,

You smile and slip the sleeves of your jacket over your arms. “Well, Eddie, thanks for the saving. Bein’ a helpless chick and all, I sure hate it when a fella doesn’t know his place.”

Eddie’s pink tongue darts out to lick his equally pink lips and he hops off the stool, placing a five under his half-full beer. “Can I walk you to your car?” He asks. “You know—dark night, creeps in alleyways and parking lots… Unless it’s not my place… princess.”

Well, that’s just not playing fair.

You laugh, because it’s barely sunset. But the way he’s looking at you makes your blood rise and leak hot magma right into your tummy. What’s the harm, you think, because you’re new in town and you’ll likely never see him again. It’s Friday night.

“No, I suppose it’s not your place.” You pause, watching the disappointed expression on his face. “Eddie–” You pretend to wipe a smudge off the corner of his leather collar, leaning in until it really does look like he’s your boyfriend.

“You’re welcome to come to mine. But no more of this priss business.” You push your lips into an exaggerated pout.

He laughs a joyful noise, tugs his jacket on close to his chest, and follows you out the door.

Your purse is already in your hands, keys swinging around your finger. “If you’ll just—”

“God. Yes. I’ll follow you.”

Eddie tugs you from the driver’s seat of your car, hand entwined with yours as he follows you up the walkway and over the step. Once the front door shuts behind him and you’ve made sure it’s locked, you’re pressed up against the wall, purse, shoes, keys, clattering onto the hardwood.

“Oh, baby,” he mumbles as he presses his face into your collar, scooping you up into his arms. “Oh, Jesus, princess. You’re makin’ me crazy.”

Fuck. How can one person have so much stamina? This guy must be related to the Energizer Bunny. It’s been nearly two hours and he’s propped up against the headboard of your bed, legs spread, pointer finger beckoning you to crawl between them. This is your third (third!) time going at it.

You paw at your face because you are so sweaty. Eddie’s hair is down, strands framing his cheeks, just as wild as he is. Two hours of some of the filthiest talk you’ve ever head, ass-slapping, spit-swapping, hair-pulling, straight-up debauchery.

“This your usual M.O., Eddie, or are you doin’ me a favor?” You ask as your knees nudge him wider apart. Blowing a damp strand from your forehead, you lie down on your stomach and press your mouth to his thigh. “Death by exhaustion.”

“Sexhaustion,” He laughs, then grunts as your lips finds the blunt head of his cock. “You’re still goin’ too.” He comments. “Jesus, girl. Can I call you sometime?”

You hum a vibrating warble and he shudders in delight, “The helpless chicks of Hawkins won’t mind?”

“Pfft.” Then, as easily as he dismisses the idea, Eddie rests his arm on your shoulder before pulling you flush against him. “C’mere.”

There’s something about him that turns you inside out. Easy-going demeanor. Charm and wit. Just fucking gorgeous. It’s a silly little notion from a romanticized one-nighter, but you’re very interested in prolonging the fantasy. You’ll get the best of this, you think, a no-strings attached kind of attachment with someone who makes your body sing. You don’t even want to know his last name—and you don’t tell him yours no matter how many times he asks. You want to know nothing about him other than what you can touch and taste and feel.

And there’s quite a lot of him for all of that. Your hands roam his shoulders and arms, your tongue laps at the sweat on his neck, your tummy tightens when his cock flexes against your hip.

Even if there might be an attachment, the physical distance of him— you have no idea where he lives, would nip that foolishness right in the bud.

Against the backdrop soundtrack of the neighborhood traffic and chatter, you wiggle your way on top and seal your arrangement with a glide of your hips onto his.

Monday morning finds you unpacking in your new classroom at Hawkins High School (home of the Tigers!) and blaring music from your speakers. The tech guy said he’d be around to check the audio levels and load some editing software onto the Macs at some point today, and you’d been killing time ever since.

After meeting with your department head, along with a few other teachers, and getting the lay of the land, you decided to hang a few prints on your walls— you were standing on a table hammering a nail into the wall when you hear voices from the hallway.

“Ooh, this is a vibe!”

Turning to the door, you see two heads precariously poking in and recognize one from the department meeting. Sliding the hammer through a belt loop on your shorts, you step down from the table.

“It’s Robin, right— graphic design?”

The blonde perks up with a smile, “Yeah! How’s it going, need any help?” She steps into your classroom with another woman. “Oh this is Trouble,” she says by way of introduction, “She teaches sophomore English.”

She waves to you with a smile. “I’m digging the aesthetic,” she says, taking in the few things you’ve managed to unpack. “Sick tats, by the way.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You grab the frame next to you and step back on the table, “I figured I wouldn’t need to cover them up until school starts so.”

“Pfft, don’t even bother.” Trouble scoffs with a wave of her hand, “We have enough teachers with ‘em so it’s a non-issue.” She steps closer to get a better look at the Drive print near your door.

Robin grabs another frame from the pile, “Where do you want this one?”

Settling the Paprika print against the wall you step back down to see which one she grabbed. “Oh,” you say, eyeing the Midsommar piece in her hands, “That’ll be by my desk, you can set it over there.”

You meet her over there with two nails prized between your teeth. Grabbing a chair you step onto it and briefly check the fastening of the frame before lining up where the nails will be hung. While Robin helps you the other woman, Trouble, continues her perusal.

“Okay,” she says with a clap of her hands, “You have great taste based on your playlist, film choices, and is that—” She tugs at your free arm, “A horror sleeve? Oh my god, you have to meet the gang. They will love you.”

Her enthusiasm is heartening— she turns your arm this way and that, surveying the different films represented in black lines and shading. Robin’s eyes find yours with a mouthed ‘sorry about this’ and you shrug.

“Robs has your number?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your arm becomes your own once more as her fingers stop their tracing of your tattoos.

“Great! We’ll text you the details,” she continues to say, “We’re checking out a new bar in town tonight.” A waggle of her brows, “Rumor has it there’s a mechanical bull.”

A smile breaks across your face, “Well, yee-fuckin’-haw I guess.” 

They leave with promises to see you tonight just as the tech guy, Bob, makes his appearance. He greets you politely, asking to check your PC and Mac before moving onto the students Macs. The two of you install and update the computers in your classroom before heading to the sound booth to check the audio ports and software. The rest of your day is spent discussing the finer points of your preferred editing programs and Bob peppering you with questions about the best cameras and equipment for sports broadcasting.

Eddie arrives at six-forty at the bar Trouble had selected for this evening, fittingly called ‘Outlawed.’ He sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets, quickly crossing the parking lot to enter the bar, his mind elsewhere.

It was too good to be true, really. Meeting some girl and fooling around with her and, of course, he can’t help thinking about her. He doesn’t even know her name, he just calls her princess. Sometimes sweetheart, sometimes baby, babygirl, because their little meet-cute at the bar spawned a million different alternatives to choose from.

He’s only seen her once for fuck’s sake, but the way she giggles when he takes off her clothes and how her breath stutters against his mouth is something he thinks about frequently when he’s in bed with his hand down his boxers.

And now, Trouble wants to set him up with some new teacher at school. She’d told him all about it at lunch. “Seriously Eds,” she said, splitting a burger with Steve as a tomato slid from the bun and landed with a splat on her plate. “She’s just your type, cool as hell and takes no shit,” she hands the burger off to Steve, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Had like, fuckin’ nails in her teeth and was just hammering away on there walls while listening to an amazing mix— Portishead, Death Grips,” her eyes turn to him, bright and excited. “Between the Buried and Me, so she’s automatically better than those chicks you’ve been dealing with on the apps.”

Outside, under the final rays of sunshine people are streaming down the sidewalk, couples with arms hooked around each other, pretty girls in heels and guys looking after them. Monday night in the Hawkins, surprisingly buzzing with life and music.

He spots Steve as he walks in and they walk next to each other, dodging people left and right as Steve leads them into the dark space of a bar, cramped more than sardines in a can. Eddie shuffles sideways to squeeze past a couple already a little too frisky for a public setting. It’s hot and sticky inside, and the smell of fried foods and beer permeates through his clothes.

He doesn’t really get the look of it, either. An entirely metal and southern kind of aesthetic, the kind that reminds him of old bleach-blonde, wrinkly and tanned housewives with rhinestones on the back pockets of their jeans, toting puckered alligator purses. There are string lights over the walls, bumper stickers, and license plates, and all manners of slogans about Texas and being a country girl.

Modelo neon lights. Budlight paraphernalia. The bartender is wearing cowboy boots.

Steve orders a six-dollar pitcher of the house draft and Eddie whistles. Okay, he thinks, for six dollars a pitcher—he gets this place.

He waves to Robin and Vickie before pointing over to Trouble’s table but Steve and Eddie take some time to themselves to shoot the shit.

“So, are ya gonna tell me about that girl or what?”

“What else is there to tell, man?” Eddie asks as he licks the froth from his upper lip, hoppy bursts of carbonation stinging his tongue. He’s kept her a secret even from Trouble, but it’s not like there was much he could say other than, “She screwed my brains out and then I left. Nothin’ more to tell.”

Steve nods along.

“I don’t even know her name. Just called her princess or baby all the time. She’s a goddamn wildcat, knew how to ride like it was her job. Great ass, too.” A shudder passes over him as he thinks of the way she would crush him into the bed and grind until lights burst behind his eyelids.

The last few words of their conversation get drowned out by loud cheers and whooping, drawing their attention to a crowd forming behind them. People press up against each other, holding their beer bottles and glasses in the air, cheering and screaming.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie calls to Steve who sits up straight chair to get a peek over the tops of everyone’s heads. “I think it’s a mechanical bull?” He replies, shrugging. “Wanna go look?”

“Might as well.”

Robin catches Steve’s eye and sends him a nearly lethal toothy grin, cocking her head over to the crowd. “Go get her, tiger!” She yells, one hand cupped over the edge of her mouth. Eddie’s grabbed by his arm and dragged along as Steve’s interest peaks.

It’s like a concert mosh pit. Someone splashes their drink next to Eddie’s shoe, and he steps out of the way. When they reach the center of the ring around the perimeter of the stage, Eddie’s heart drops because the face he sees—beaming with joy is attached to a body he knows extremely well. Intimately. Every single inch. Her hips, gyrating in circles as she holds onto the handles of the mechanical bull—he’s seen it. Her hair, flurrying around her face in circles, moving along to the whipping of her body, adjusting with every jerk of the machine—he’s seen that, too.

“I think that’s the one Trouble was goin’ on about.” Steve announces. “Jesus, how is she doin’ that?”

Eddie is wide-eyed, turning back and forth. It’s too much. The laughter from her throat he’s previously shoved himself down. The cheer from the crowd that is deafening in his already ringing ears. Steve’s clapping– like a trained circus seal.

When the bull bucks for the last time, she leans forward and runs both hands through her hair, flicking it over her shoulders. Then, his girl, ever a gymnast, hops off and gives the crowd a bow, picking up her jacket on the way. Eddie watches her grab the same one she had on the first time they met- faded denim, worn shoulders, decorated in pins and patches.

It’s gotta be fate. Or destiny. Or maybe some fucked-up circumstance.

Her face is bright with joy, cheeks glistening with the lightest sheen of sweat, lips shiny with the way her tongue flicks out and licks it. To his right, Steve discreetly adjusts his pants, but Eddie is already rock hard. He slides back until he’s disappeared behind his friend, a smirk suddenly growing.

Trouble claps you on the back when you step out of the cushions of the ring. Robin and the rest of the gang stand by with so many questions, but you only wave them off. The secret is that in your college days you worked at a restaurant with a mechanical bull, and on your breaks you rode the fuck out of it.

Sometimes, growing up in the dirty South had its perks.

At first, upon entering the bar, you were wary and afraid you might throw out your back now that you’re not a spry young thing, but two pitchers in with Trouble and Robin and you were spitting into your hands and swinging over its seat.

Yep. You think victoriously, still got it.

“Hey!” A coif of hair sticks out of the crowd an inch or so above most other people. Steve, Trouble’s boyfriend and history teacher at Hawkins High, is grinning ear-to-ear, and you duck because you were not expecting him to witness that. Trouble smacks you on the ass and pushes you forward. “So, you hid this from us?” She asks, motioning to the bull and then up and down to you.

“Aw, fuck,” you mutter but can’t help the grin that breaks across your face. “C’mon, y’all… I didn’t think it’d come up.” Steve hands you a glass of amber, and you hide behind it with your hand, pretending to cool off by pressing it to your forehead.

“I almost forgot–” He turns, looking over his shoulder. “I wanna introduce you to Eddie, my other roommate, he teaches at Hawkins too!”

Eddie swivels into view, and any previous thoughts fly right out your head. If you had something in your mouth, you’d probably choke on it. He’s there, in all his glory, just like you remember: black leather jacket, dark stubble and eyes moving like smooth bourbon poured into a glass as he looks you up and down.

His teeth are sharp when he smiles.

“Oh, princess,” Eddie sighs, “I can’t believe you thought you’d get away that easy.”

And you think, as you stare wide-eyed at him, with Steve now coming to the same conclusion—mouth forming a silent “Oh”, you think that you are so fucked.

Maybe your life isn’t a romantic comedy at all, maybe it’s a terrible porno opening scene or some psycho sexual thriller because your former one-night stand is shooting you a mischievous grin, flexing his biceps, pulling on his lower lip with his teeth until it stretches white and snaps back plump and red.

Sensing the tension, Steve quickly turns around to the table.

Eddie cocks his head back, motioning you to follow.

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Living with Kyle is an experience, I tell you. First of all, I have no idea how he maintains that hunky physique because he is constantly eating junk.

He also keeps drinking energy drinks and I have no idea where he's even getting them from.

He at least tries cleaning up after himself sometimes, but he's also extremely clumsy so he breaks more than he cleans.

Goddammit, Kyle.

After a few days, Dani is getting a bit sick of the smell of spoiled energy drinks everywhere. And that isn't the only bad habit Kyle seems to have...

WILL YOU PUT ON SOME GODDAMN PANTS MAN

Kyle, get your naked ass off my furniture, I swear... where did you get those chicken nuggets? You didn't go anywhere near the fridge???

And where did you keep that energy drink?! Do I even want to know?!?

Oh well, time for the welcome wagon, and we convince Kyle to put on some clothes just in time for everyone to look absolutely thrilled about the fruitcake.

Kyle's a bit miffed about having to wear pants though, so he grabs yet another energy drink and watches tv instead of socialising. (Reader Service™️ - Yellow shirt is Julie, Don's first love, teal lady is her sister Toni the bartender and Don's 9th conquest or something, the guy with the blue shirt is one of their random roommates and then there is of course Nathan, Sidney's husband.)

The group decides to join Kyle and watch a movie, but a faint beep is heard from the hallway. And Kyle the Burning Donkey decides to be useful for once, completely forgetting the Love Guru's words.

And also forgetting the fucking lint tray.

THE HIMB, THE HIMB, THE HIMBO'S ON FIRE

The Burning Donkey seems resigned to his fate...

But Dani doesn't give her man up so easily.

Ew, Dani, he's all covered in soot!

(Interestingly, everyone ran screaming out of the apartment except Toni who has probably seen worse as a bartender.)

Finally, the smoke and visitors clear out, and Kyle the Flaming Ass lives to slack another day.

[syd-djarin]

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo)  squirting (sue me),  Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him. 

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel. 

Boiling water for pasta? Joel. 

Doing the dishes? Joel. 

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel. 

And this morning is no different. 

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters. 

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements. 

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not. 

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.  

 Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time. 

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache. 

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend. 

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year. 

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. 

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible. 

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel. 

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment. 

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise. 

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything. 

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.  

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech. 

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence. 

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you? 

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile,  learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you. 

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you. 

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face. 

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice. 

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought. 

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house. 

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you. 

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country? 

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore. 

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you. 

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again. 

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Driving home from work? You. 

Making dinner? You. 

Making his morning coffee? You. 

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you. 

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience. 

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron. 

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now. 

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.” 

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable. 

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.” 

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab. 

“You’re doing great.  Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.” 

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough. 

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet. 

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her. 

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him. 

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven. 

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?” 

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination. 

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes. 

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie. 

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too. 

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion. 

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go. 

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places. 

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra. 

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot. 

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy. 

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn. 

 Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home. 

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed? 

“What uh-what’re you doing here?” 

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings. 

You have a moment of realization. 

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

 You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises. 

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so. 

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace. 

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation. 

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.” 

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here. 

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel.  You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation. 

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile. 

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat. 

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny.  He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again. 

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants.  You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too. 

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him. 

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind. 

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together. 

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same. 

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears. 

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together. 

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time. 

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves. 

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core. 

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties. 

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter. 

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort. 

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?” 

“Mhmmm…”  You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.  

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him. 

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions. 

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it. 

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.” 

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable. 

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice.  His rock hard cock twitches in his pants. 

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him. 

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests. 

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning. 

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. 

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs. 

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more. 

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure. 

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad. 

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. 

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched. 

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.” 

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed. 

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release. 

 You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-” 

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole. 

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth. 

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex. 

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong. 

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours. 

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure. 

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene. 

You fucking squirted. Everywhere. 

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.” 

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.” 

His gaze goes dark. 

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you. 

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough. 

THE END

[aspenaspenaspenaspenaspen]

I decided to make my own unraveled cover

so here’s what I changed:

A big problem I had with the unraveled cover is how different it was from the rest of the series. And I also wanted to consider that it SHOULD look different, however unlocked also looked different from the other covers yet unraveled looked completely different from unlocked as well. It just didn’t really fit with the rest of the series with the spacing and everything. So while my version is still different considering that unraveled will diverge from the rest of the series in its make up I still wanted to keep Keefe smaller and also wanted him to be the only one in the frame like Sophie on unlocked (other than silveny of course). I also wanted to make the cover have a color assigned to it like the other books so I chose grey. Another thing I didn’t like about the cover was all the random people. I didn’t really get the sense it was to show Keefe hiding with humans, I sorta just thought it was a way to not make Keefe’s stalker™️ stand out too much. I felt like the people were unimportant and crowded the image, and idk I just didn’t like the layout. Connected to this, I moved Keefe’s stalker™️ to the background, I thought the random shadow was even more unsettling if less obvious, idk if it was the first thing you saw but I was hoping it wouldn’t be😭

Still more problems I had with the cover was the lack of visible “magic” or fantasy things on it. Like, I know it doesn’t make sense for elf stuff to be there, but i think it should still be noticeable that this is a fantasy series, especially for new readers who might see unraveled in a bookstore. So I have Keefe a leaping crystal, please don’t blame me for how it looks I couldn’t find a reference so I used my imagination

AND I ADDED SOPHIE. I wanted Sophie to be on the cover, even if it’s just her hand. In my version I have Keefe shown on the spyglass, and yes, I know that in stellarlune that’s not how the spyglass worked, they ended up using it as like a shadow tracker or something but I had to make this work ok?? So yeah that hand is Sophie’s hand because she deserves to at least partly be on this cover.

Anyways I can’t draw buildings nor do I know crap about London so just… ignore or imagine ok?

I almost forgot I changed his shirt color because the first time I saw the cover I thought he wasn’t wearing a shirt under his jacket