#i love my balding old man<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[patchespremium]

I'll eventually learn how to shade correctly lol but I'm getting there. Anyway, me with Imgo I. NEED this man.

[solradguy]

This isn’t Johnny discourse but it is kind of discourse about the discourse about him balding (which he isn’t).

What would it matter if he took off his hat and he was a shining beacon?? The dude canonically fucks (well not canon-canon but I feel like there’s implications of fucks-ing)!! At the most, he would be a Pitbull reference and that would be cool because good for Daisuke. Listen to Timber by Ke$ha (feat. Pitbull).

It kind of felt like they were making jokes at the expense of people loosing hair. It’s like that thing where you shouldn’t make fun of people for ‘X’ because then your friends who ‘X’ will know you think that about them.

John E is cool. I think he’s lame but he’s cool.

-A concerned Jellyfish Pirate

Idk anything about Pitbull, to be honest, but my GOD does he look like he's having the time of his life in the Timber video hahah Been a while since I heard that song...

Anyway, Johnny totally fucks. There's no way a man that toned, running around shirtless all of the time, with that slight yeehaw accent, couldn't find someone DTF with the tiniest bit of effort. He's absolutely gettin it rofl He could still get it if he was bald too, or receding.

I've complained about it on here a bit already, but yeah I don't think people making fun of Johnny because they think he's losing hair realize that a lot of people in real life are going to lose their hair as they age, and their jokes at Johnny are also jokes at these people. It's not even just an issue cis men can have either, everyone's hair thins with age, some just more (and sooner) than others. To make fun of someone, fictional or otherwise, for losing their hair is digging a trench to fill with future self loathing at one's own hair loss. And hair loss in >2023 isn't even that bad anymore!! There are so many ways to manage and style it now.

Johnny's a babe. Big fan of his "dad trying too hard to be cool but is actually somehow still really cool despite that" energy

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

i listened to the what if episode where albatrio (+ollie) were superheros :] i love them so much

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Took my cat to the vet just for him to be diagnosed with tummy hurted and said he needs different food

[sxorpiomooon]

What kind of sexual thoughts do people have about you? A nsfw pac reading

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Pile 1-

Wow this is crazy, a lot of people have these about you I must say. I had a vision of a lot of people jerking off to you too? Insane but yea there is also this theme of you looking like a medal to them like "yea fuck if I get her I've won everything " i see people wanting to fuck you very roughly by slamming you onto the table. A lot of people fantasize about doing it with you in public spaces. People love you ass you might sort of give the vibes of Sydney Sweeney? I'm also seeing these old American diners people might want to get into a lot of foreplay dressing with you. I'm also seeing them fantasise about you being a waiter and them the policeman? People want to clap you ass this is insane you have no idea how many people out there want to genuinely fuck you pile 1. I'm seeing everyone having these thoughts about you and then realising that you are out of their league. People might also want to suck your titties yo?? I see a lot of men wanting to be babied by you 😭. There is Pisces energy here that I'm seeing also cancer water signs basically.

p.s- There is a bald man or almost bald man losing his shit over you

Pile 2-

People might want to prove themselves to you? I see men wanting to last more with you? Your sexual energy or energy is general might challenge men even if we are looking at the matchstick you guys choose there is this woman smirking in it haha so men might naturally feel as if their masculinity is being challenged by you. You might also degrade them in some way or they might want you to. I see men wanting you to crush them? Don't some people have that fetish in which they love to see things being crumbled with someone else's feet? I see that and also a feet fetish. They might fantasize about you leading in the bedroom I also saw a chain and someone acting like a dog so there you go lmao. People want you to degrade them and crush them lmao. I also see them focusing more on pleasing you and fulfilling your desires. They might want to kiss your feet and your lower body. I'm also seeing a curvaceous lower body.

Pile 3-

People might want to do it with you after a heated argument? I just see all immediate sexual encounters as in two people entering the room and immediately getting started. Do you go to hotels or cafes? I see spaces with a lot of people where people have these thoughts about you. A lot of people might want to have heated one night stands with you? People have sexual thoughts about hearing you moan and running out of breath. They might want them to lead you and guide you. I see them wanting you to praise them throughout the entire thing too. People want it to be a very impulsive encounter out of nowhere. Alot of screaming and breaking of things I heard the sound of plates breaking for some reason I keep having visions of Monica Bellucci. Anyways I see this theme of people wanting to have a heated one night stands with you and then working hard to please you.

Pile 4-

Hell naww I see very strange people wanting to have sex with you? Like in very inappropriate settings people might have these thoughts about you. You might have sex with people in order to distract yourself from pain? You might fuck people so good that they might forget everything that's on their mind. I see people talking halfway and then just moaning in pleasure not being able to get enough breath to even continue what they were trying to say. People from your work or own team might have these sorts of feelings towards you too. I see less feelings and passion from your side I see you tossing other people once the act is done too for some reason? I keep seeing inappropriate settings or relations for this pile maybe a boss or just a random ass relation

Thankyou!!

[bunnys-kisses]

carnations

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, romantic, babies & kids, wife!reader, age gap (20s/50s), gentle sex, missionary, pregnancy, body worship

this bunny eats comments & reblogs! feed the rabbit!

tulips (max verstappen) - roses (charles leclerc) (nov. 3) - sunflowers (lando norris) (nov. 3)

exhaustion was normal after having a baby, babies were fussy little creatures who were learning every day about the big wide world. you understood, but that didn't mean that you weren't tired.

thankfully for the off season, you had your husband at home most nights and he was more than happy to look after your son, tano. he felt like he missed enough after only being with you for a week after you had him. toto felt like he needed to make up for lost time.

you woke up to the sound of the baby monitor going off, your son getting fussy in the early hours. he had been up a few hours earlier, but before you could even raise your head from the pillow you felt toto's hand on you.

"i've got it." he said softly before you put head back down on the pillow.

being in bed felt wrong knowing that toto was up with your son. you knew he was capable of taking care of him, but you didn't want to feel useless. so, you got yourself up and headed towards the kitchen. and the sight of your husband almost made your throat grow dry. he was standing there, with tano in the crook of his arm while he got used warm water to heat up the breast milk that was in the fridge in a bottle.

"Ich weiß, ich weiß. Du wirst bald essen." he said softly, your son was getting impatient with no being able to eat asap. toto looked down at tano and then to the bottle under the water.

you could see your husband's strong back with his sweatpants low on his hips. he was much older than you, but he was doting. he was a caring man who made sure that his wife and son had everything they needed. that meant getting up in the wee hours to take care of tano. you were his family and he loved you both dearly.

it also didn't hurt that he looked very handsome. even now with greying hair, he was perfect. it made something swim in your gut, the same lingering feeling that got you pregnant. your husband was very handsome.

you leaned up against the door way with your arms crossed. you yawned loudly which got your husband's attention. he looked over and gestured quietly for you to come closer. you helped him by finishing up warming the bottle before handing it to toto to feed your son. at the dining table near the kitchen, toto fed tano gently. you yawned into your fist.

"you should go back to bed, my love. i can handle it."

you shook your head, "no, no. we spent too much apart. the bedroom feels like miles away." you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

toto shifted himself on the wooden chair and carefully watched his son. tano was a lot like toto already. even at a little over seven months old. you could see it when the baby scrunched his little face and how clingy he was with you already. he was a real wolff already. matched with the dark hair of his father and his nose. it was cute.

"i love you." toto said.

"i love you too. even though your stupid tall genes made me carry a huge baby." you pointed a finger at him recalling your pregnancy with tano.

99th percentile and sympathy glances from the nurses when you went into labor. didn't help that tano was stubborn like his father too and i took longer than you hoped.

toto smiled as he took the bottle away from his son's lips, "and you did it so beautifully. look at our son."

you smiled at him. damn you, toto wolff, for making you feel something warm in your gut. to see him across from you with your son in his arms. shirtless with his chest hair on display. he held love in his eyes for you. your wild wolf.

"he looks a lot like you."

he smiled, "he has you smile, those knowing eyes. he always looks so curious. but, what he lacks in physical attributes from you. he will make up in personality. your kindness, your smarts, the beauty of your heart. i bet he will take in strays just like you."

you chuckled a little. you didn't know if he meant the two cats your brought home once or himself. regardless you blushed under his comments.

with tano eventually back in his crib, you got back into bed with toto. but something pooled in your gut under the exhaustion. your leg hooked over toto's middle and his face in your hands.

he smiled a little into the kiss before he pulled away and looked at you, "i think it's a little late for that, schatzi."

you shrugged, "it's been a while since we... ya know. with everything going on." you wrapped an arm around him. with formula one, tano, and everything else going on, you had little time to be intimate with your husband.

he kissed the apple of your cheek, your skin was warmed under his lips. he then started to pull at the shirt you wore to bed. he was greeted to the sight of your soft body. his breath was caught in his throat for a moment.

curves like aphrodite yet the strength of artemis to carry his son for nine months. you had a slight softness in your middle and it made him lick his lips. he had seen you naked since you had tano. but, to see it so close up. to feel your warmth on your skin.

you tried to cover up yourself with your hands but toto pinned your wrists to the bed over your head. his gaze was heated and it made you squirm. you said, "toto, don't stare."

he replied, "how can i not? not when i am looking at the most beautiful woman in the world."

"i still need to lose the baby weight."

he got closer to you, his chest against yours. his cock straining in his sweatpants. he then held your hips with both hands, "no, no. you look perfect like this." he then kissed you on the lips for a moment before he pulled away and got between your legs with his sweatpants kicked off to the end of the bed. his leaky cock stood at full attention.

"please, honey."

he rubbed his cock up against your achy slit. it had been so long since you two were intimate. while he worshiped your body at every moment during your pregnancy, it was nothing like feeling the closeness to your husband.

"you're beautiful." he said as he slipped his cock into you. so soft and perfect for him. it made a shiver run through his body as he took you by the hips and started to move against you.

"you're making me blush, toto."

"good, i want to have you blushing for the rest of my days. you always feel so nice when you have heat in your cheeks. you are the most beautiful woman i've ever laid eyes on. from the day we got married until now. and forever more." thrusting against you was euphoria for him.

he remembered your wedding day, he remembered how beautiful you looked for him. he felt like he didn't need to say any vows, it was plainly obvious that he wanted to marry you. his almost missed his cue to kiss you at the end because how entranced he was by you. he remembered when you gave birth to tano. and he did anything he could for you, even at the your grumpiest (which he understood). you had been everything for him. you had given him something he never thought he could have.

and as he palmed your breasts and kissed across your skin, he promised that he'd be the perfect husband for you. you deserve it. you and tano deserve the best toto wolff could offer. and sometimes that meant making gentle love to his beloved wife. his personal heaven.

you two kissed, pressed chest to chest now. your legs around his waist as you moved together. it felt good being with him. the pleasure was a throb in his chest and a cloud in your head.

you both needed to feel close to one another. to be in each other's embrace. after so long, to be next to your husband in such an intimate state felt so good. his kisses trailed across your skin.

his words were loose and with such affection. his phrases in german held the same affection as the ones in english. he tried to come up with every word he could think of to tell you that he loved you.

you kissed him once more and you met his pace. the two of you moved together on the bed. you held onto him, feeling the closeness to your beloved husband.

"i am lucky." he said, "most men would kill for the chance to be with you. you've only become more beautiful." he said which made you blush a little more.

you tried to look away but he pulled you with a searing kiss once more. there was an inferno in your gut. you were lucky to have him too, someone who treated you with such kindness and respect. who loved you very deeply.

"i love you."

"i love you too." he said as he cupped your face with a sweet devotion.

he continued to rut against you. you clenched your legs around his waist as he moved. his pace was gentle or at least more gentle than what you usually got involved with prior to pregnancy. you had firm memories of toto going to town on you in the back of his car. he groaned when you gripped onto his shoulders, your pretty short nails dug into his skin as you felt orgasm come over you.

you let out a pretty moan and your husband sealed it with a kiss as he lifted your hips a little higher to get at the best ankle. he kissed your lips tightly and gave it a few more heavy thrusts of his hips. his tip kissed the back of your pussy before he spilled his seed into you.

when the kiss was broken, he slowed to a still and panted heavily. he made a bit of a face and rubbed his hip. you gave a small chuckle and said, "old man." but then yelped when he gave your pussy and tender slap.

"i can still keep up with you, schatzi."

you raised an eyebrow as you continued to breathe heavily. you raked your nails down the hair on his chest. you asked curiously.

"then i'll find a million ways to keep that hungry cunt of yours busy." as he looked down at you. your husband may be the sweetest father, and a doting husband. but when it was you two alone in the bedroom, you remembered why you once called him the vienna stallion.

you were firmly reminded of it come morning, when toto's cum was plastered to your pussy lips.

-

a month later you got the ire of your doctor when you sat in her office and she looked at your blood work. you were only pregnant eight months ago, and now you were pregnant again.

"I suggest after this mrs. wolff that you go on a form of birth control." the doctor looked at your charts, "accidents this close together can cause problems long term. i suggest forms of family planning. having your husband working overseas most of the year doesn't seem to working." her words made you ears burn.

toto held tano in his arms and looked away to chuckle slightly, but it was cut off by the doctor's voice.

"either that or your husband should look into options as well. there's a clinic in the west end that'll happily give him a vasectomy." she said which made toto grimace.

you both looked a little ashamed. you were two for two in accidentally having children. most usually got more careful after the first, but now you were expecting another child right after tano. the baby squirmed a little bit in his father's arms and you felt embarrassed as your doctor talked about options for family planning after your second child. you were married! but, the heat still flooded your cheeks. you thought about the night with your husband. and what started out as a reintroduction to each other's bodies after months apart had become an expansion to your little family. <3

[streetlamp-amber]

blanket fort for the soul

dick grayson x batmom!reader

word count: 2.2k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: mention of death, family fluff <3 NOTES: dick grayson my little baby i love you so so much you deserve endless happiness and to be protected from all evil

You were just coming back from your lunch break with two of your coworkers when you received a call from Gotham Academy asking you to come pick up Dick as soon as possible. It didn’t take more than a minute after the call ended for you to inform your boss you were cutting your day of work short today, to grab your black trench coat and bag and to sit behind the wheel of your car, on your way to the private school.

Dick Grayson had entered your lives a month and a half ago, after Bruce took you on a date to Haley’s Circus where the young boy’s parents died tragically in front of your eyes. When you were informed that their child didn't have any family to care for him and would end up in the foster system, you didn't even have to try to convince your husband to begin the process to become his foster parents. It had been two weeks since Dick started living with you in the manor and though he was slowly warming up to Bruce, Alfred and you, he was still plagued with nightmares and a deep sadness about the loss of his family.

“What happened?” You asked the receptionist in a hurry once you arrived at the school. You didn't need to introduce yourself or mention to the woman behind the desk that you were Dick’s ward, perks of being married to Bruce Wayne.

“Ah, Mrs. Wayne!” The headmaster, a bald fifty-something white man with round glasses that you should probably try to remember his name, exclaimed as he appeared in the doorway leading to his office. “Please, follow me.”

You walked around the receptionist’s desk and entered the headmaster’s office, where a small boy with dark hair hung his head low. You could sense the sadness emanating from him the second you stepped in the room. You ignored the principal’s invitation to take a seat in the chair in front of his desk to instead crouch down in front of Dick.

“Dick, sweetie, are you okay?” You asked him worriedly. You rested your hands on his knees and lowered your head to try to catch his eyes.

The young boy shook his head ‘no’ before lunging onto you, wrapping his thin arms around your neck as he wept on your shoulder. You were surprised at first, Dick wasn’t comfortable enough with you and Bruce to do more than holding your hands when outside of the house, but you recovered from the shock in less than a second.

“Oh, bubs,” you whispered in a sigh, hugging him close to you and rubbing your right hand up and down his back in a comforting way as sobs shook his small body.

“He’s been like this since the beginning of the students’ lunch break,” the headmaster sympathetically informed you. “The lunch supervisors tried to comfort him but it was to no avail, so we called you.”

You turned your head to face the older man, noticing at the same time the plaque on his desk that read ‘Principal Richardson’. “You did the right thing,” you told him.

“Given the circumstances, it is more than alright if Mr. Grayson wants to go home for the afternoon,” Mr. Richardson offered.

“Do you want to go back to the manor?” You whispered the question in Dick’s ear and he nodded his head ‘yes’.

You rose up from your crouching position, Dick still hanging onto you tight like you were his lifeboat. Thank God he was a little frail since his parents’ death or you wouldn’t be able to carry the eight year old in your arms right now.

“Thank you, Mr. Richardson,” you thanked the principal and he accompanied you out of the school where one of the lunch supervisors waited at the door with Dick’s school bag and lunchbox.

You sat Dick down in his booster car seat – he was still a little too small to sit without one – and put his bags in the seat next to him before closing the door behind you.

“Please send our salutations to Mr. Wayne,” the principal told you and you shyly smiled, nodding your head one time as you sat down in the driver’s seat.

The ride back to the manor was quiet except for Dick’s sniffles as he continued crying. It broke your heart that you couldn’t just take all of his pain away. Both you and Bruce had lost your parents when you were kids, you understood the grief Dick was in just like you knew that only time will heal him.

Once you arrived home, Alfred came down the stairs to grab your bags while you carried Dick, who was back to latching onto you like a koala, in the house. You kicked off your high heels after walking through the front door and went straight to Dick’s room on the second floor.

“Let’s get you out of that uniform, how’s that sound bubs?” You softly asked him once in his bedroom.

“Okay,” Dick murmured, letting go of your neck to rub the tears away from his eyes and his cheeks.

You sat him down on his bed and turned to his drawer to pull out a pair of pyjamas. You then helped him change his clothes and once he was ready, with Zitka his elephant plushie tucked under his arm, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of his room.

“Can we make hot cocoa, please?” He looked up at you with his big blue eyes, the colour eerily the same as Bruce’s, and you simply couldn’t say no to them. Not before, not now and definitely not ever.

“Of course, bubs,” you said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where Alfred was doing an inventory of the dry food in the cupboards.

“Mrs. Y/N, Master Dick, can I help you with something?” He politely asked you.

“Pretend like we’re not here Alfred,” you told the butler as you helped Dick sit on the kitchen island. “We’re making hot cocoa. Do you want some?”

“You know I would never refuse a cup of your famous hot cocoa, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred lightheartedly said and the two of you broke down in small chuckles.

“Should we also leave some for Bruce when he gets home?” You asked Dick who was now eye levelled with you from where he was perched on the kitchen island.

The little boy nodded his head ‘yes’ and you set up everything you needed to make the warm beverage, along with four coffee mugs. Dick helped you and in a matter of ten minutes, your drinks were ready.

“Come with me,” you whispered to Dick as you helped him get down from the kitchen island counter. “I have an idea of how to pass time while we wait for the hot cocoa to cool down a little.”

Dick held your hand as you made your way to the living room with the television and the comfy couches (because of course Wayne Manor had more than one living room, including ones that were more formal for the balls and galas you hosted).

“You wanna know what my brother and I used to do when one of us was feeling down?” You looked down at the small boy. He nodded his head for you to continue. “We built the biggest blanket forts that could ever be built. But I think with all the materials we have here, we can build an even bigger one. Are you in?”

You were slowly succeeding at making Dick feel better after the little episode at lunch. Grief comes and goes in waves, and his loss was still very recent. You just wanted to be there for him when the pain hits him.

Dick nodded his head, a little more excitedly this time, and the two of you set off to start building a giant blanket fort using the couch mattresses, throw pillows and blankets stored in the room. You were hanging a blanket that would be the roof while Dick held up the mattresses when Alfred brought your cups of hot cocoa to the living room, the drinks now topped with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. You thanked the butler and he smiled at you before he went back to the kitchen to complete his inventory, sipping his beverage along the way.

“Are you comfortable in there?” You asked Dick after a moment from the entrance of the blanket fort. He had been in charge of placing the pillows and blankets inside while you made sure the structure was stable.

“Mhm,” he positively hummed in response.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you our cups of hot cocoa then I’m gonna come in with the laptop and we can watch whatever you want,” you told him.

“Okay,” Dick said, his mood lighter.

Once the two of you were settled in the fort with your mugs, you opened the living room laptop (because of course you and Bruce had more than two laptops) and put it down between the two of you.

“So, what are we watching?” You looked at the dark haired boy to your right, waiting for his answer.

He shrugged his shoulders while drinking more of your hot cocoa. Yeah, he was gonna be a ball full of energy until way past his bedtime, but he deserved something fun and comforting. If anything, Bruce could train with him to tire him out once he was back home from work.

“Remember those songs we were listening to on the drive back from Bruce’s office last week?” You tried to jog his memory up to when you blasted Abba’s greatest hits after his first visit to Wayne Tower. You kept stealing glances in the rear view mirror the whole ride, smiling every time you saw Dick bopping his head along to the music.

The little boy nodded his head.

“Well, they made a movie where the characters are on a Greek island and sing the songs the whole time. Wanna watch that?”

Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Okay.”

You grabbed the laptop and put it in your lap as you went on Netflix and searched for Mamma Mia!. Dick took the opportunity to scoot closer to you, his small body curling around your torso, and you smiled at the fact that he was more trusting and comfortable with you.

When Bruce arrived back home, he came to a stop in front of the living room with the television in it that he was only planning on passing by while he made his way towards the staircase to get to your shared bedroom. The room was disordered and more loud than it usually was at this time of the day, which is what got his attention away from his cellphone. He loosened his tie, feeling more relaxed now that his day of work as ‘Bruce Wayne, CEO’ was over, and approached the blanket fort in the middle of the room.

“What is going on in here?” He crouched down and peaked his head inside the fort.

“So when you’re near me darling, can’t you hear me? S.O.S.,” you sang instead of answering him, index finger pointing in your husband’s direction.

Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes. “You roped him into watching Mamma Mia?” He asked with a hint of a smile.

“I didn’t rope him in,” you scoffed over Pierce Brosnan’s horrible singing. “I suggested it and Dick agreed to watch it,” you sweetly grinned at Bruce.

Dick, who was still curled against you, one arm looped with yours while the other held tight onto his elephant plushie, nodded his head to back up your claim.

Bruce then noticed the two now empty mugs, clear traces of hot cocoa on them. “Did you make hot cocoa?” He perked up, now fully smiling.

“You got this little man to thank,” you pointed to Dick. “We made a cup for you, just heat it in the microwave then you can join us.”

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce said and jogged to the kitchen where a cup of your famous hot cocoa was indeed waiting for him. He was back in the living room two minutes later, shoes and blazer off, top buttons of his shirt undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ready to relax with his family.

He handed you his cup of hot cocoa for you to hold while he made his way in the blanket fort and settled on your left since the laptop was still in your lap, hence putting you in the middle. Once next to you, Bruce pecked your lips to greet you and when Dick glanced up at him, the look in his eyes wondering if he would also receive some kind of greeting, your husband affectionately ruffled his dark hair before leaning over you to plant a kiss of the top of the little boy’s head.

Bruce then made himself comfortable, also cuddling onto you, and put his head on your shoulder, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he did so. You handed him his mug back and the three of you continued watching Mamma Mia!, much to your happiness.

Enveloped in the warmth of your two boys squishing you from both sides, you couldn’t fight off the smile that pulled on your lips. Laying under your blanket fort with your little family, it was moments like this one that made everything else worth it.

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt. 2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 (you cannot read part 2 with no context).

summary - he totally just cares if you pass your exams, nothing else. there is no other reason he keeps coming back to your convenience store.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x early season!spencer

warnings - school work, incorrect science stuff bc i’m just a girl

a/n - thank you all for the love on the first part!!! it was so surprising, especially since it was the first fic i’ve uploaded on this blog, i love y’all so much 🫶 thank you to those who suggested to make this a series, i would’ve totally made this a oneshot if not for y’all.

“you got any plans tonight spencer?”, morgan asked, taking his jacket off the back of his chair, passing spencer’s clean desk.

“uh, yeah actually.”

“really?” morgan stopped beside him, looking over his shoulder, a smirk crawling up, “with who?”

“moby dick.” spencer lied, morgan rolled his eyes.

“you’re no fun man.”

the doorbell rang, but after not seeing a certain skinny man for two nights, you’re mind starting to reset into the ‘studying grind mode’ it had been on before meeting spencer. stop thinking about spencer, keep studying.

three ladies dressed in short skirts, a white man with dreads (yikes), and a boy around 8 years old checked out with various items before a 3 minute cannelloni, bag of coffee, and an apple landed in front of you. before you could look up he spoke,

“how did your assignment go?” you jumped in your seat, nearly punching the man in the face before you placed a hand over your heart and sighed,

“good lord, you need to learn how to walk louder.”

spencer grinned. you scanned the cannelloni, he glanced at your hand still over your heart.

“rubatosis.”

“bless you?”

“the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat.” you glanced up and saw him looking at your hand with a thin lipped awkward smile. you quickly put your hand down and continued scanning, pushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“we all know words. like… vellichor.” you spoke, packing his things in the same plastic bag he brought just little of a week ago. he tilted his head,

“the love of used bookstores?”

“i saw old books in your car.”

“you were looking in my car?” he put his hands in his pockets, as he looked out the window to his parked vehicle, not planning to pick up his bag of ‘groceries’ anytime soon. only then did you notice his tie was askew, his hair a little disheveled, his eyes a little sunken. the doorbell rung, a middle-aged balding man walking in behind spencer.

“i’m observant. $12.98.” he whipped out a slim wallet from his back pocket, flicking through some notes to pull out a $20. you ruffled through the register for his change as he remarked,

“you didn’t even look at the register.”

“don’t need to, you’re predictable.” you reply with a sneaky smile, causing spencer to copy reluctantly.

there was an awkward cough from behind him, the middle-aged man. spencer turned back to you after realising that he was in fact in a convenience store, and you were in fact the only worker there. “sorry sir, um. bye.” he took his bag, the thin lipped smile becoming nearly as predictable as his late-night groceries.

“bye.”

the tall, awkward, superbly smart man who smelt like wood didn’t show up for 5 nights. you thought there were only three possibilities at his absence: sickness, death, or he’s learnt how to cook.

you thought the next time you saw him you would ask more about him. in between studying, classes, and working, there wasn’t much time for a social life in your day to day. or maybe you wouldn’t. maybe he wasn’t showing up because he wasn’t really a regular, just a guy who needed quick meals, coffee, and apples on those specific nights. that’s insane, you are insane, get back to studying.

you almost didn’t recognise him the next night. same clothes, same height, same cologne, different face. dark circles under his eyes, permanent lines between his eyebrows, and a purple bruise on his left cheek. it was silent, he was the only customer at 11:30pm. you both made eye contact while you scanned his items, (same things plus a travel first aid kit) silently observing his expectant expression before you broke the silence.

“i’m not going to ask.”

“i got hit with the butt of a gun.” he said matter of factly.

you halted, coffee bag in hand, and stared at him, squinting. “…okay. actually i am gonna ask. who would hit a librarian with the butt of a gun?”

he scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head, blinking, “i’m not a librarian. why do you think i’m a librarian?”

you packed his things, “smart, dressed posh, just general mysterious good looking librarian vibe,” he handed you a $20, “you remind me of a pipe cleaner with eyes.”

he raised an eyebrow, breaking eye contact, “not the first time i’ve heard that.”

you laughed, thinking it was a joke. his shoulders relaxed, the lines between his eyebrows softening. he grabbed his things, “bye, y/n.”

“bye, spencer.”

you were so close to finding out more about him. how the hell does a man that looks like that get into so much trouble?

you finish your shift, packing your textbooks and now flat laptop, locking everything up and turning the lights off. it was 1am. and, spencer was asleep in his car.

you looked around and put your jacket around your shoulders before jogging up to his driver’s window. his head was lulled to one side, mouth closed, chest rising softly. you knocked, and suddenly he was wide-eyed and searching for something.

“spencer? what are you still doing here?” you speak just loud enough for him to hear behind the window, which he promptly put down. you had a split second realisation how crazy this was. checking in on a regular, watching a regular sleep, feeling safe enough to approach a man’s car just because he buys the same thing every night he comes to the convenience store.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to fall asleep. i- uh,” he wiped his face, “sorry.”

you look at him with concern, “it’s okay, just.. try not to look like you were waiting for me to finish my shift to kidnap me next time, okay?”

he sighed and nodded. waving goodbye, you started down the street, your apartment only being a block away. over the music now playing in your ears, you heard a car drive away, mixing with your confused thoughts about who this regular really is and what he does for a living. and how does he look that good.

he was back the next night, same black slacks, with a purple sweater a shade darker than your own.

“hey spencer, before i scan your 3 minute bolognese, coffee and bag of apples-“

“how did you get that perfectly-“

“i’m going to ask this and you’re going to answer, okay?”

you know nothing about this man, but talking to him like a good friend felt natural now. though, you still tried to avoid over stepping it.

“-though you don’t actually have to answer it. you are a customer and i can’t force customers to do anything but- seeing as though you know i’m a college student and that i work at this convenience store and that i sort of suck at biology- sorry i’m rambling,” you take a breath, “where do you work?” you finish, spencer smiling slightly. you were surprised he didn’t cut you off to stop you, like everyone else did. he didn’t answer at first, the squeak of your shoe against the floor displayed your anxious tell.

“i can’t tell you.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes and packing his stuff, he already had a $20 ready in his hand. you took it, fingers brushing slightly against his. “you suck, and your so suspicious. i should just call security.”

he looked around, fiddling his fingers together, “you don’t have security.”

you pointed to a dead cockroach outside underneath the warm street light. “yes we do. why do you think he’s twitching? he’s insane, he’ll hurt you.”

he chuckled, the sound bringing a shade of pink to your cheeks. “you don’t work on weekends.”

you squinted, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and maybe a bit of fear. “what.”

“i came in on a weekend and a man was here.” he explained as you nodded.

“yeah, no i don’t. why?”

spencer gulped, taking his bag, and smiling awkwardly, “nothing, bye!”

you waved, confused. also stressed, you hadn’t worked on your psychology assignment while waiting for him to show up.

pt. 3

taglist- @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @wannabewolf @evysian @trashmonstersara

[arjwrites]

Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.

Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3

-

“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 

You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.

But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 

So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 

“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.

“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 

The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.

“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 

“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 

So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.

“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 

-

“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 

“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”

“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.

While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.

The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 

After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.

“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.

“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.

“Dean.” 

“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”

On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.

“Dean?” 

“... Yes?”

“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

- 

Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 

Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 

So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.

Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 

“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.

“Y/N-”

“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 

“A year.” 

One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.

Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  

“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 

“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 

-

If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 

This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 

The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 

The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 

You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 

“This is a real sick joke.”

“No, Y/N, it’s-” 

For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.

“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 

“It’s me, Y/N, I-”

“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 

When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.

“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 

“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.

“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 

[patchespremium]

Ngl I would do this. I just enjoy being around Ingo in Legends Arceus<3

Inspired by the drawing trend of drawing this (so feel free to draw your own!!)

[poeticpascal]

White Lies (Joel Miller x Reader)

Masterlist | Request here!

Summary: Joel would do anything for you. He does anything for you. And he makes sure you don't know a thing.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: violence, Joel kills 3 dudes (what murdaaah?), descriptions of blood and wounds, stitches, Joel feels guilt and shame but is also very soppy and very in love, fuff and angst all tangled up, descriptions of chronic pain

A/n: I have had a bloody nightmare the last few weeks with suspected endometriosis, which is what inspired me to write this. In my head, reader has endo and the medicine is some sort of contraception or strong painkillers to help her manage it. But it isn't explicitly mentioned so you can imagine whatever you most relate to. Please do let me know what you think, and as always, requests are open!

It’s a harsh winter, even by Boston’s standards.

The QZ is coated in a veil of thick snow, the blizzard that took hold weeks ago now bruising the streets with an icy fist.

Joel pulls his coat tighter around himself, grateful at least for the cover the snowstorm offered, the skies foggy and grey. He can slip through the alleyways much quicker, much quieter beneath the frost. His footsteps are erased almost as soon as he leaves them, and when things get messy, he can soothe his wounds in the freeze.

Which is good, because things get messy a lot.

Not that he’d tell you that. You were too pure, too gentle; not unlike the snow that paints your doorframe now.

No, Joel keeps those things from you. The world has been unkind enough, and if he has one purpose now, it’s to protect that sweetness of yours. To collect it, each golden ray of sunshine that so easily radiates from you, to give it back and let you bask in the warmth of your own soul. 

No one deserves it more than you do. Least not him, and yet you’d given him more love, more sweetness, than he could ever dream of.

That’s why he told you he was working a late shift today - sewage, he thinks he said - rather than where he actually is at 3am, catching his death in an old littered alleyway.

He occasionally shifts to avoid the silver moonlight dripping from the gaps in the fire-escape stairs above him. Tonight’s meeting should be a simple one, free from FEDRA’s strict patrols; he’d done this long enough now to know when, and where, was safest for these things.

He stays on high alert, though. Just in case.

Marco’s late. He isn’t known for being the most competent of dealers, but Joel was getting desperate now, and he was the only crook in the QZ who could get what he needed. He was a small man, a bit pathetic looking, really. But he was smart, and he had connections that even Joel couldn’t make for all his smuggling and dealing.

So when Joel’s supplier told him he couldn’t help him anymore, he didn’t have a choice. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

“Miller, there ya’ are.” Joel’s snapped out of his thoughts, his looming regret of this whole situation, as Marco strolls down the alley. He grins, in the same cocky way he always did, the sort of grin a man who couldn’t win a fight but has enough men who could wrapped around his finger, doing the dirty work for him.

Joel insisted he come alone. Not because he couldn’t handle his goons; he knew he could. Maybe. But it would cause a scene, and draw attention, to something he very much wanted to keep under wraps.

He’s semi-surprised to see the two men walking behind Marco. Deep down, he’d had some faith that the dealer would stick to his word.

“Quiet the fuck down,” Joel warns, seething through his teeth as his eyes search the alley behind them, making sure they hadn’t been heard. “Who are your friends?”

Marco follows Joel’s gaze towards his companions. “They’re just here to observe.”

The men are the same height as Joel, maybe a little taller. He recognises both from the sleazy speakeasies that lie beneath the floors of the QZ. Where the bad guys go. 

One is bald, with a jagged scar carved across his cheek and over his eye. He’s scowling, unlike Marco and the other man, who looks somewhat softer with thick hair grown to his shoulders and brown eyes that stayed on Joel like bedrock.

“That’s not what we agreed,’ Joel growls.

There’s tension in the air, thick, and they must feel it too because Marco’s henchmen each have a hand hovering near their sides, where silver blades reflect the white of the snow.

“I recall us also agreeing that you’d get your meds in return for the money. But we’re doing things a little differently today.” Joel remains stoic, though his eyes turn dark and angry, the moon’s light no longer illuminating his features. Marco tiptoes slowly towards him, getting so close that Joel can feel his breath and raising a hand to pick a piece of lint from his flannel shirt. “I want my money. But you might have to wait a little longer for your meds.”

Joel reacts then, squaring up to him, stepping forward and clenching his fists. The other men wrap their hands around their blades, anticipating a fight. Marco just laughs.

“‘Scuse me?” Joel asks, though they all know he understood what was going on.

“You’re gonna give me the amount we agreed. And then, you’re gonna speak to one of your guard friends, and cut me a deal. Then you might get your meds.”

Joel’s anger swells inside him like a beast, his previous care to stay hidden long gone as he imagines driving his fist into Marco’s smug, son of a bitch face again and again and again. 

He has to think this through, though. He needs those meds. Marco can see the cogs turning. “Just give me the money, Miller. Don’t make this difficult. You can’t take three of us.”

“No?” Joel retorts, already decided in what he’d do next. “I don’t think it’s worth findin’ out. Give me the meds.”

Marco sighs, dropping his head and stepping away from Joel, leaving him to face his men. “Shame, Joel. You really coulda helped us.”

He nods to his men, who immediately draw their blades and attack. The first lands a punch on his face, the weight of it surprising him as he falls back into the railing. Before he can recover, the other has already plunged a blade through his stomach, right below his ribcage. He controls himself, swallows the yell that claws its way up his throat, tries to think. The cold steel of the rail stabs into his back, and when another fist collides with his cheek and sends him to the floor, he uses it to haul himself up and tackle one of the men - the softer one - to the ground with him.

Marco only stands and watches as Joel throws his weight onto the man and smashes his head into the stone floor. The other grabs his shoulder, spinning him round but Joel’s prepared this time and he dodges the swat of his knife. Instead he throws a punch into his stomach, making him double over which gives Joel the opportunity to grab the knife strapped to his calf and drive it through the bald man’s throat. He stumbles, collapsing to the floor with a choked cry, and Joel turns back just in time to see the other man trying to stand, though the injury to his head makes him dizzy. Joel stands first, easily pushing the man to the ground, and stomping on his head with as much force as his steel-toed boots would let him. Both men stay down.

Marco has regressed into the darkness of the alley, and he looks somehow smaller than usual. He’s pathetic, and if this was any other job, he’d laugh. But this wasn’t a laughing matter, and there was only one target for him; the medication.

The smaller man reaches into his pocket, searching for his gun, but Joel anticipates the move and has already reached him and thrown him against the wall before he can find it. His movements strain the wound in his abdomen, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t feel it.

Joel’s fist pins Marco to the wall by his throat, making him splutter and flail like a fish out of water.

“Where are the fuckin’ pills, Marco?” He just continues to flail, trying to pull Joel’s hand off of him with both of his own, to no effect. Joel scoffs, throwing him to the floor and dragging his knife out of the now dead henchman’s neck. “If you won’t tell me, I guess I’ve got no use for ya.” He uses his shirt to clean the blade, the flannel already soaked in blood, his own.

“For fuck sake, Marco whines, slightly out of breath. “They’re at my place.”

“There anyone else there?” Joel asks, so nonchalantly that it almost sounds like a passing thought.

“No, no one there. But you’ll need me to get you in.”

Joel looks up again, the now-clean knife held in his fist with a vice-like grip. He stalks towards Marco, ignoring his desperate pleas. 

“Shouldn’t be a problem-” 

With that, he stabs him in the chest, letting him choke and gasp on the floor and searching his pockets for a key. He finds it, and does a quick, final survey of the alleyway. The once perfectly settled snow is disturbed, kicked up in the fight, and deeply stained with blood.

Joel curses, but leaves, only now noticing the burning pain from his torso. He leans against the wall, now stood out in the street, open; but there are no guards. He doesn’t think he’d care. Instead he grabs a fistful of the snow around his feet, packs it into the wound, hissing at the sharp pain of the ice but quickly feeling relief as it numbs him.

This was going to be a long night.

—------------------

It’s another couple of hours or so before he returns. There were, in fact, people at Marco’s place - but Joel knew that would be the case anyway. They weren’t a problem.

He’d showered in Marco’s flat, after taking out the men hanging out in there. Protecting it, he assumed. And he’d found a med pack that let him stitch up the wound to some degree; it was a hack job, but it should do the trick. He’d had worse.

The most important thing was that he found the meds.

The old door of your place creaks as he steps inside, quickly closing it behind him before the cold could enter. It’s futile, really; the wooden pillars are rotten, decaying so badly that the wind sweeps through the cracks with ease, and he can see dustings of snow on the floor around your windows. But he tries anyway.

“Joel?”

There you are.

It’s scary, honestly, what your voice does to him. Even so quiet, so distant from the bedroom upstairs, it lifts the weight from his shoulders that he thought he’d carry forever.

“I’m here, baby. I’m comin’.” He pulls off his shoes, placing them neatly beside the door just how you like, and heads upstairs. His bloodied shirt is long gone, buried in some forgotten corner of the QZ, where he has a collection of discarded items by now.

You don’t reply, he doesn’t expect you to. He reaches your bedroom, gently opening the door and sighing at the sight of you lying there, curled up between mountains of sheets and pillows.

He’d almost think you look peaceful if he didn’t know how much pain you’re in.

“Oh, honey,” he laments, crossing the distance from the door to you and kneeling down beside your head. You open your eyes, though they’re weighed down by exhaustion, and a small smile creeps onto your lips at the sight of the man before you.

“Hi,” you whisper, letting a gentle hand poke out from the duvet and brush his jaw. He can’t help but grin back at you, the total mess that took place just hours ago wiped from his mind completely, and he leans into your touch.

The both of you just stay like that for a moment, your thumb sweeping across his cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. Then you wince, and no matter how much you try to hide it, he can see the wave of pain inflict your body.

“I’ve got your tablets, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, a desperation to his actions now; he hates seeing you like this. You just nod, pushing a meek but honest “thank you” past your lips, so quiet that he almost doesn’t hear it. His heart swells.

Joel presses out one tablet and hands it to you, then picks up the glass of water that stands on your side table, making a mental note to replace it later. You take the pill, grabbing hold of his hand before he can pull it away, and give it a gentle squeeze. He follows your lead and tips the water to your lips once you’ve placed the tablet on your tongue, gently helping you swallow and squeezing your hand right back.

A look of relief washes over your face, and he finally lets himself relax. He stands, letting go of your hand and leaning over to kiss your forehead, before pulling off the clothes he’d taken from Marco’s wardrobe and climbing in beside you.

He only knew heaven in these moments with you, late at night, when your hands reach for him beneath the sheets and your head nuzzles into his neck. It’s no different tonight; he’s quiet, unsure if you’d fallen asleep in those few seconds, and as much as he wishes you’d rest, he can’t deny the way his lips curl when he feels your gentle touch wrap around him.

“How was today? Doing the sewage?”

Joel swallows. “Yeah, yeah. It was fine. Don’t you worry about it, sweetheart.” His arms envelop you, holding you tight against him, one hand drawing gentle circles on your back. He’s lost in the bliss for a moment, letting it wash over him in waves, when your hand brushes his haphazard and you freeze. So does he.

“Joel,” you say; it’s still a whisper, but not the tired kind you’d given him earlier. It’s like you’re too scared to ask. “What’s that?”

He panics, holding you tighter, trying to think. He can’t believe himself for not remembering to cover it, to make sure you didn’t see. 

“There was an accident today. I did some building work before I went to sewage, a pipe fell. Nicked me real bad-” you gasp, forcing yourself to sit up with shaky arms. Joel immediately pulls you back down, his hands grasping your face, staring into your eyes like they held the world inside them. It’s dark, but they glimmer, and he just hopes you can’t see his fear.

“No no. It’s fine, baby. I’m fine. Got seen by the doc, got a couple ‘a stitches. Says i’ll be all good by tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow? Joel that doesn’t sound right-”

He interrupts you. He hates this. “I promise, baby. That’s what she said. I promise.” He wipes a thumb across your cheek, and the way you seem to settle, to believe him, makes him ache. He hates this.

You nuzzle back into his side, placated. You trust him, endlessly, and he hates that he abuses that trust just as much as he needs to protect you. A means to an end, he thinks.

The two of you are silent for a few moments, your hand lay gentle over his wound. Like you’re trying to heal it. He thinks it’s working.

“Thank you for picking up my medicine,” you say.

“It’s okay.” His words are quiet, muffled; he’s got his face buried in your hair now, revelling in your scent, and really, he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. He doesn’t want to lie anymore than he already has.

You’re still oblivious, though. Still sweet.

“I’m so glad you can make my rations cover it. I don’t know what I’d do if they made them more expensive.”

Oh, babygirl, he thinks.

Because your rations don’t cover your medicine. Neither did his. Even combined, they’d hardly cover a drink in the bar these days. He’d seen you work and work and work, in spite of the pain that bloomed in your abdomen and tortured your bones until you could hardly stand up anymore, and he saw the way they laughed in your face and turned you away when you tried to get the help you needed. When you tried to trade your labour for medicine. You were nothing to them.

So he told you he could barter the price down. That it was best if he goes from now on, to make sure you’re not taken advantage of. He takes your rations, stuffs them right back in the savings pot you keep above the shelves in your kitchen, and leaves to make whatever underground deals he needs to in order to get those meds. And you didn’t know a thing.

He must’ve been quiet for a while, because you continue. “And I’m glad you don’t do those scary things anymore.”

That gets his attention. “Scary things?”

“Yeah. Like, the smuggling and stuff.” You take a breath, tighten your arms around his waist. “I mean, I know why you did it. I’m glad you were able to look after yourself.”

Joel curses to himself, unable to wipe the tears that brimmed in his eyes as you spoke, because that would mean letting go of you.

“But I’m also glad you don’t do that anymore. You go out, and you work, even the horrible sewage shifts like tonight.” You giggle, but Joel can’t even force himself to smile. Shame consumes him.

“I’m proud of you, Joel.”

He’s silent. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like shit.

If you notice his stillness, you don’t mention it. That alone makes his heart ache; you’d always been so understanding, so careful to make sure he’s okay while knowing exactly how to handle his feelings.

It’s odd, really, how fiercely you protect one another. He doesn’t let the darkness of the world so much as touch you, and you extract the horrors from his veins like a vacuum, making him forget the damage was ever even there.

His eyes flitter down, watching you drift asleep, finally at peace and free from pain. He exhales.

He’d never feel good about lying to you. But some things, he thinks, are worth it.

You are worth it.

And so he brushes away the hair that’s fallen over your eyes, trying to fight the droopiness of his own so he can keep them on you for just a second longer. But sleep overtakes him, and the only reason he lets himself fall into dreamland, is because he knows he’ll find you there, too.

[ethelcained]

rosemary (matt sturniolo) ⛧°｡🦇

they’re both twitch streamers.. planning on writing an actual fic soon so requests are deeply appreciated!! thank you so much for all of the love in my last post <333 it means the world ⭐️⭐️ let me know if you’d like me to turn this into a series (;

777.starlem

liked by mothercain and 1,987,456 others

777.starlem 🕯️🦇⋰ ⋱✮ streaming @ 6 pst!!

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matthew.sturniolo

liked by tarayummy and 834,986 others

matthew.sturniolo Streaming now 🍎🩹

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mattpugluvr My girl boner is through the roof

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777.starlem

liked by pinkpantheress and 1,806,983 others

777.starlem texted my doctor n i was liek “haiiii :3 how much for 3 prozacs >////<” no reply back )))),:

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radvxz literally so babygirl

777.starlem thank u!!! ^^

christophersturniolo This pic so fucking tuff man

777.starlem on some real shit

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streamerupdates

liked by hamzahthefantastic and 896,583 others

streamerupdates Famous twitch streamers @777.starlem & @matthemunch are currently streaming together via twitch with other streamers!

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lesbian4salem INSAAAAAAAANE

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matthew.sturniolo

liked by sabrinacarpenter and 3,906,999 others

matthew.sturniolo One year with my vamp 🦇🩹

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777.starlem the sackboy to my domo 🧛🏻🫀🧛🏻‍♀️

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mayawinky @dijondress_ pass

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.2: Robin's Boy

A.N: Life is kinda sucky right now with job hunting, surviving at my current job, the strains that come with being a caregiver to a family member while maintaining a long distance relationship and just dealing with mental and emotional self-care. So here's this, super late and not beta-read but at least I wrote it.

As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags and/or ask box.

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce's Edition), Part 3 (One of Us), Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies her dad loves without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her.

Seeing the declared dead Chief of Police step out of a sleek black, obviously-secret-government-bullshit car flanked by an agent she recognizes as one of Owens' lackeys from last July when they were making the rounds with Government funded medical care contingent on signing sketchy NDAs? Just par for the course at this point.

Steve's face when Eleven-Jane rushes into the not-dead Chief's arms and it turns into a whole 'Moment'? Said Chief's look of barely interested confusion followed by tired annoyance when Steve drags her in front of him, rambling about Starcourt and new additions to The Party and finally getting to meet 'My Hop'? Yeah, none of that surprises her either. She plays along for Steve, doesn't give Hopper any time to say anything that would take that happy smile off his face or get rid of the way he's practically glowing he's smiling bigger than she's ever seen directed at anyone other than the kids. Tries not to think about the way it makes something in her clench and crouch like a cat getting ready to pounce and bare fangs she didn't realize she had outside of a life and death situation. She introduces herself, maintains eye contact and drags Steve off as fast as she can to do something, anything, that will distract him from trying to catch up like the Byers clan is with the kids and assembled assorted monster fighters.

She's not surprised when she can't stop Steve from stepping up every time Hopper or Joyce or anyone with a badge says they need anything despite his own still healing wounds. She's not surprised when Hop takes it a step too far.

They're at the Hopper Cabin that is steadily becoming the Hopper-Byers Cottage when Hop tells his and Joyce's shared custody bald parasite that Steve is little more than an annoyance he puts up with for the free babysitting service and manual labor and cause he can go up against shit that would give anyone else nightmares while keeping the kids safe and mostly in-check. She's sitting with Eleven-Jane, sewing patches onto one of Hop's old army jackets, (the kid had seen Eddie's battle vest in Steve's car and it had reminded her of her sister Kali and she'd decided she wanted one of her own for the war ahead and then all of the other rugrats had decided they did too so she and Argyle had taken to giving sporadic sewing lessons whenever the kids had the materials to start their own battle attire) when Steve comes round the corner to the back of the property striding with purpose she rarely saw when he was around his kids.

She leaves her unfinished project on the stump she'd been using as a stool and chases after him. She shooes off curious and worried kids, promising to stick with him, keep the walkie close and on, make sure he was safe and didn't run afoul of any demo-beasts or trigger-happy government goons as he made his way to his car and then wherever else he was marching his happy ass.

She hates the fact that when they're both finally back at the little apartment that Owens' yes-men had acquired for Steve when Harrington Sr. decided to be an opportunist prick and kick Steve out for 'not taking care of the house' in the middle of the 'earthquake', that Steve hasn't shed a single tear. She hates that she's not surprised.

He doesn't say anything as he kicks off his Nikes and shuffles over to the 'second-hand' couch they'd gotten from Mrs. Henderson (Steve and Robin were both fully aware she'd just gotten it shortly before Spring break and was in no way in need of a new one so soon, but they both also knew better than to call her out on her kindness). He doesn't look up at her from his spot curled in amongst the throw pillows and blankets they'd been gifted by parents of various members of the party after Hopper and Owens' story that the two of them had saved the kids again from some freak incident like last year with Starcourt. She pulls out the thick quilt they had found in the latest donations bins when Hawkin's government supervised relief force started outsourcing for supplies and basic comforts. He stares at the wall where they'd hung an oversized corkboard dedicated to polaroids and photo booth strips and even some properly printed pictures of the little monster fighting family they'd put together.

She can't pull him out of this, no matter how much she may want to. There's some places his mind goes only Eleven-Jane would be able to reach and neither of them were going to put more on that girl's plate. So she puts on a Bruce Springsteen record she used to hate and curls up as close as she can to him through the quilt and pillows. Every now and then she gets up to get them both water, to grab some crackers to try and coax him into eating and to switch over to a new record or just flip the one on the player but she always comes back to her spot next to her Steve.

"Whatever he said to you, you know it's not true. Right? You're worth more than a dozen undead cops on a power trip." That gets an amused huff.

"Seriously Stevie, the kids adore you, I swear all the moms in Hawkins think you're the best thing since sliced bread and I don't know what I'd do without my personal chump. We're soulmates, remember? One of these days we're gonna mind meld like Spock and McCoy and we'll be unstoppable. I can't make it without my McCoy, Bones."

"I can't make it without you either, you hobgoblin. Thanks Bobby."

The next day is better. Steve is still a little quiet, a little droopy. But he's present and there's a simmering anger underneath his smile that Robin is proud to see him acknowledging but makes her worry about him as he ushers her into his car to drop her off on her rare lone shift at Family Video before he heads out to a quick 'consultation patrol' with some military special operatives to check out something weird by one of the new cracks.

No one had told any of the kids yet, about the cracks starting to spread out in smaller fissures like a slowly spreading infection. Hadn't thought it necessary with Steve and Nancy (both now legal adults and wasn't the government taking full advantage of that) there as a first line of communication while Joyce wrangled a restless Hop as he settles back in and heals and spars with Owens over payouts and government aide for the town and what the growing military presence was and wasn't allowed to do. With the parents occupied the kids had come together tighter than ever, focusing on their injured and recovering from the nightmare fuel that was their spring break. No one noticed.

She can't help the rant she falls into as they drive through checkpoints and past regular civilians being escorted through areas a little too close to a Gate for comfort. She goes on about how half of the soldiers act like Steve is just one of them and the other half treat him with the same cautious curiosity they do Eleven-Jane whenever she makes her way to the 'front lines' these days. She wants to get the weird boy-speak head nods too! Even Nancy gets them, especially when she's walking around with her sawed-off strapped to a jerry-rigged hip-holster. Robin has used Darlin' before, she's speed poured Molotov Cocktails to hand to soldier boys trying not to piss their pants as Steve and Nancy barked orders as they tried to down a demogorgon fresh from the Upside-Down. Where's her battlefield camaraderie?

It makes him laugh and shake his head fondly as he calls her crazy and weird with that soft smile on his face that makes her chest feel warm and fuzzy like her parents' hugs used to when she was 10 and crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. She doesn't tell him to be careful as they turn down onto Main street or to make sure he comes back in one piece as he rolls to a stop in front of the dark storefront. She starts on another tangent about him abandoning her to the drudgery of Capitalism as he gets to frolic in the woods with a bunch of burly men with their toys before he laughingly reaches over her to open her door to start pushing her out of the car. He smiles big and dopey as she practically spills onto the asphalt, still rambling away about neglectful soulmates and abuses of driving power with smatterings of claims that she'll take over his apartment if he dies and use his ashes as fertilizer for the plants he's taken to keeping on the fire-escape outside the living room window if he dares to leave her alone to babysit his hellions.

He shoots back a final, "Love you too Bobby!" before taking off towards where he's meeting the scientists and soldiers he's supposed to lead through Upside Down infected woods. As he leaves her standing on the sidewalk he doesn't make any sort of promise to be safe, to let the government goons just do their job, to make it back to her alive or in one piece. Not even to make it back to her. She plays with the locket she's taken to wearing that holds a curled up braid of hair shades darker than hers or anyone's in her family.

She doesn't watch his car to the end of the street like she might have before Spring Break, after their Starcourt 'adventure', instead she takes a deep breath and unlocks the dumb video store in this dumb town full of dumb people who don't know when to call it quits and just get the hell out of Dodge. She boots up the computer leaving it to warm up while she starts sorting through whatever mess the new shmucks Steve insisted they hire to cover what times the two of them couldn't because of the Arcade (which they had also gone and hired more staff for now that people weren't one tremor away from rioting in the streets) and Upside Down/ government related shenanigans they ended up getting dragged into.

The bell above the door jingles and she has to bite back a groan. "Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She won't turn to face him, not sure she can keep her cool if she does right now. Her hands move on muscle memory, shuffling papers into their proper piles and flipping open VHS cases to check if they need to be rewound. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." She may have only heard his voice a couple of times and in passing but she didn't call her ears little geniuses for nothing. She forces her body to relax, lowering her shoulders the way Steve taught her to and keeping her voice light like Eddie walked her through, calling on his Theatre Kid skill set to teach the Party how to convincingly lie improvise when being questioned by people who really did not need to know just what was going on in good old Hawkins.

She can hear him sigh and can't help but picture his hand running over the fuzz on his head the way Steve runs his hands through his coif more and more nowadays in a way he never did before Nancy, before he got pulled into this bullshit and Hopper was rumored to be the one signing his paperwork and taking responsibility for him when his parents didn't show up after an almost week long stay at the hospital. "Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here. To fix it."

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef and meatloaf covered in ketchup, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place she used to pet and give snacks to on her way to and from school make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies she and her dad used to stay up late watching together without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight by her bed for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her. Jim Hopper might have just done it.

She doesn't stop moving, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing her off. She fiddles with the sharp little knife she has tucked up her shirt sleeve in the little sheath she and Steve put together between shuffling papers, taps at the button on her vest hiding the mic attached to the walkie talkie that never leaves her pocket these days. When she finally turns to look at him she's not surprised by the thinness of his frame or the way his eyes and cheeks still look a little sunken in. She sees the tired father worried for his kids and his people and his town, angry at the government for their involvment and their stupidity that she had come to expect. She is not expecting the remorse, the fear, she sees looking back at her. She wonders for a moment what he sees when he looks at her, at any of the teens and kids and young adults he's fought alongside trying to stop the end of the world.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He looks mildly confused for a moment, meaning Joyce hadn't been passing along even the minimal information Nancy and Steve had been giving her to relay to Hop and the rest of the Party. That would have to be it's own discussion at some point probably. "-in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

"You care about Harringt- Steve. You're close, the two of you have been basically Siamese Twins since Starcourt from what I hear. I- I realize that I made a mistake dumb enough shitting Mike Wheeler is making more sense than me, that I fucked up in a way I don't fucking know how to fix. And I am asking. Politely. For your help."

Honestly she's not sure she believes him. Honestly he's surprised her more times in the last five minutes than most anything or anyone else has in the last year. The man has a lot to unpack and the situation with Steve is just a drop in the man's pile of shit he's managed to bury himself under but maybe there's some hope yet.

She checks the watch on her wrist (an obscenely expensive piece Steve got from one of his parents' rich friends at a holiday party he was too young to remember on a leather band that he had outgrown and never got around to replacing) and looks back at Hop. Ten more minutes. "Why are you here?"

Hop groans in that growly sort of way that makes her think of her grandpa Dale, a great bear of a man who had given the best hugs with shoulders to put Jim Hopper to shame. The no-longer-chief runs his hand over his fuzz again, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight to one side and she tamps down the flicker of biting anger at another example of the ways Steve had shaped himself after a man who never gave him the respect or care he deserved.

"I don't know how to fix what I fucked up. Steve's a good kid, I can admit that now. And he didn't deserve my bullshit just cause I couldn't get past old highschool biases. I wasn't there for him like I should have been- like I told him I would be when I signed those papers. But he's not the kid I thought he was, he's nothing like his folks or the other trust fund brats who think they run this shithole town. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that kid deserves better than I've been doing."

She hums like she's mulling over his little speech to hide the way she's freaking out a little over what to say to all that. Even she doesn't know how she and Steve got to where they are beyond being tortured by Russians for information they didn't have then being drugged out of their minds while fighting inter-dimensional flesh monsters. But she doesn't think that would help Hop much in this situation.

But she thinks she believes him. At least for now.

"Alright, I'll help you with Steve." Hop sighs, his shoulders dropping as he seems to unclench slightly. Seriously, that much tension cannot be good for him after being in a Russian gulag for almost a year. "But not because I think you deserve it. You were right, Steve deserves better, but he wants you and Joyce and the kids to be in his life. Be a part of it. That is the only reason I will help you. He deserves a better dad than the one he's had and for some reason he thinks you're like super-dad."

"I- How the fuck did I not- What the hell?"

Robin shrugs, "The human brain is good at weeding out what it doesn't want to see. You didn't want to see Steve until you had to and that realization brought you to me. So. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"So what do I do?"

She checks her watch again. "He'll be running late, especially if the fissure he's checking out is as bad as we think it is. So you have time to run back home, get Joyce to make extra of whatever monstrosity of a casserole she's trying to make this week and you get your rugrats to figure out a way to be the last drop off after Steve takes the brats to the arcade later instead of sleeping off whatever knocks he gets on patrol today. Then instead of letting him head home you make him come inside for dinner. Use the excuse of finding out he's been doing patrols if you have to. But you make him go inside and sit his ass down and eat something and you let him just- let him just be, Hop." She's running out of time but there is just so much she wants to get through to him. "Just make him feel like you see him."

"I- I'll try."

"Yeah, sure. Just-" She bites back the vitriol she wants to projectile vomit in his direction. "Just don't hurt him again. He's more than just a babysitter or front lines muscle. And I will make you wish you were back with the Russians if you make him forget that."

"I believe you."

"Good." The bell over the door jingles again and she looks past Hop to see a group of teenagers making their way to the comedies. "Now I have to get to work and you need to not be here by the time Steve comes to check on me. So talk to you later, Chief."

"Right. Thanks for your help, kid."

She shrugs him off as he turns to head out. The teens are watching him not-so-discreetly as they try to act like they're looking through the latest releases. She forgets that the man is as much a mystery as the heavy-duty military forces that have taken over their small town.

"Alright, folks. What are we looking for today?" She still technically has a job to do even if the kids keep their distance from her like they do the rest of the Party who at this point have all been seen either spending time with said heavy-duty military forces or chasing something into the dark of the forest wielding weapons smeared in monster blood, or both. It's going to be a long day.

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(if your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings

[myslutwritings]

I RLLY LOVE UR BLOG OMG 😭💗💗 IF U CAN, CAN I PLEASE REQUEST A THING WITH THE FIRST 3 UPPER MOONS WHERE WHERE READER ACCIDENTALLY CUTS THEIR LONG HAIR TOO SHORT AND REGRETS IT? I HAD THE SAME SITUATION BEFORE 😭😭

Aww, thanks honey! and of course! 🖤

➤ The 3 Uppermoons reaction to your haircut

featuring: Kokushibo [uppermoon 1], Douma [uppermoon 2], Akaza [uppermoon 3]

— A/N: sorry for being gone for so long (again) i tend to disappear and reappear whenever i please. 😂💀

(not proof read btw!!)

KOKUSHIBO

let’s start off by saying that before you even pick up those damn scissors to cut off those voluptuous locks he is IMMEDIATELY stopping you.

Is he doing this because this is his special way of throwing a silent tantrum over the fact you’re cutting your hair and he’s one of those guys who likes people with short hair? NO!

Is he doing this because he’s very observant and knows you’ll fuck it up and then regret it afterwards? YES!

Do you listen to him?

…

No :)

SOOOO you end up cutting your hair.. and.. let’s say it’s a total DISASTER AFTERWARDS.

Horrible would be an understatement!

(at least to you.)

You’re flipping your shit at this point and Koku is just looking at you with a “i told you so” look.

But hey! it’s okay! he still thinks your beautiful no matter what even with shorter hair. He doesn’t care about that and only loves you for you.

You could be bald and this man would still love you to bits!

Kokushibo actually finds it silly that you think he’d care so much about your physically appearance.

He finds you freaking out over it very endearing and now you have to admit you should’ve listened to him since he was right about you ‘fucking up’ your hair.

DOUMA

“Oh my! what happened?!”

Quite literally Douma’s exact words!

He just returned back to his temple from a mission to find a pair of old scissors in your hand and hair stands all over the floor.

Oh, so messy! He isn’t too fond of messes..

But, you know, since it’s YOU, so he’ll let it slide!

Questions what in muzans name you were doing.

Let’s pretend muzan is an expression because it’s funny.

Much like Kokushibo he’ll find it amusing how distraught you are over something so little!

It’s just hair.. why do you care so much?

He still finds you beautiful! not the best at validating your feelings though because he thinks you being legitimately upset over this is stupid.

Always found you being upset by the tiniest of things so dumb but also fascinating.

Douma doesn’t feel anything (so he claims..)

So therefore you feeling so strongly compared to him keeps it entertaining.

But he finds himself feeling somewhat sorry and comforting you in the end..

Strange.

Reassures you that your hair will look great long, medium length or short. he adores every part of you!

AKAZA

Akaza actually likes your hair short!

Not even like.. HE LOVES IT!

Digs it. i’ll tell you!

I feel like he’d like women/men with shorter/medium-length hair.

(Of course he is still attracted to you regardless of your hair style)

Since you’re dating a demon obsessed with fighting..

He actually teaches you how to defend yourself (so that when he isn’t around you’ll be able to fend for yourself)

And fighting with short hair is wayyyy easier! it doesn’t get in the way when you’re training.

Whenever Akaza would train you, you’d always have to put up your hair.

It sorta irritated him because why not just cut it? Or trim it?

Until you finally go through with it..

Shit turned into a whole fiasco. ☠️

You’re upset over it but he convinces you to look on the bright side. attempting to make you focus on the positive aspects rather the negative.

“You’re still so beautiful! Don’t be upset over your hair. it’ll grow back.”

You miss your long hair and regret cutting it and you know it’ll grow back but you can’t help but feel salty.

At least it doesn’t get in the way when Akaza trains you anymore so that’s a bonus.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Rent-a-girlfriend

Part 3: Katsumi Orochi

Yandere Baki various x Afab reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

…………………………………………………..

Katsumi ran his fingers through his hair as he sighed. What on earth was he going to do? He told his parents he had a girlfriend so they’d get off his back about getting married…

Was it desperate of him to pay for a rental girlfriend? What if his parents caught on to his lie?

Katsumi waited at the small cafe to meet up with his date. His heart beating erratically in his chest as he started overthinking. What if she didn’t show up? What if she bailed on him and now he was out of all that money… jeez.

Katsumi looked up and his breath hitched when he saw (your name). Her hair was down in soft waves and she wore a white midi dress. She was lovely…

(Your name) approached Katsumi with a soft smile. She gave him a wave and giggled when his whole face turned red. What a cutie.

“Hello. I’m (your name).” (Your name) introduced herself to Katsumi who took her hand in his. Katsumi was amazed by how soft and small her hand was compared to his large, callused one.

“I-I’m Katsumi.” Katsumi introduced himself with a stutter. He cursed under his breath for being so nervous. He’s been so busy training that he neglected dating and talking to girls. Now she probably thought he was a loser…

“So what are all the things I need to know before I meet your parents?” (Your name) softly l asked as she took a seat beside him. Katsumi flushing a bit in the face at the question.

“I’m 25 and we’ve been dating for a few months.” Katsumi muttered. “My parents really want me to get married and have children so I lied and said I had a girlfriend…”

“I can play my part.” (Your name) smiled warmly at him. Katsumi’s heart fluttered as butterflies exploded in his chest. She was so beautiful… it was a shame she was just a fake girlfriend…

“Thank you, I appreciate this…” Katsumi held her hand in his, his cheeks pink. “My parents can be a little bit embarrassing so I hope you don’t mind them.”

“Not at all. I’m sure I can handle it.” (Your name) replied smoothly.

Just how embarrassing could they possibly be?

.

.

.

(Your name) was surprised to be pulled into a tight hug by an older Japanese woman the moment she walked through the door. The woman was thrilled out of her mind to see her.

“My goodness! You must be (your full name)!” Katsumi’s mother, Natsue, beamed at her. “We’ve heard so much about you from Katsumi and we’re so happy to finally meet you! It took us ages to get your name out of his mouth! I’m Orochi Natsue and that’s my husband Doppo, but you can call us Mom and Dad!”

(Your name) smiled at Natsue. Goodness. It seems Katsumim was not lying… his parents were a bit much. Poor guy.

She was then pulled into a hug by a muscular bald man named Doppo. The older man smiling warmly at her.

“Where did he meet someone as pretty as you?” Doppo jokes. “Or did he snatch you up with his boyish god looks? He learned that technique from his old man.”

Katsumi choked on his spit. The karateka wrapping an arm around (your name)’s waist to pull her away from his dad. “Hey. That’s enough.”

“We’ve been worried sick about our son since he takes his karate training so seriously… he hasn’t had time for girls.” Natsue shares. “We were worried his still a vir-“

“Mother!” (Your name) put her hand over his lips to prevent herself from laughing at how cute Katsumi’s blush was. This poor guy… she felt so bad for him.

(Your name) gave Katsumi’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She gave his parents a smile. “Katsumi is a wonderful boyfriend. You raised him well.”

Katsumi blushed, his dark eyes focused on her bright smile. She was gorgeous… it was a shame she wasn’t really his girlfriend.

Dinner went by without a hitch. His parents cracking jokes here and there to make (your name) laugh. It was when Katsumi’s mother brought out the photo album that Katsumi swatted her away.

“Stop! She doesn’t need to see those!” Katsumi whined while (your name) laughed at his expense. His mother showing him baby pictures.

“I asked his biological mother for these and aren’t they precious?! Look at his chubby little cheeks!” Natsue cooed as she pointed at the pictures of a chubby baby Katsumi. Even then, he still had such majestic eyebrows.

“Katsumi, you never told me you were such a cute baby!” (Your name) joked, her eyes twinkling in mischief. Katsumi’s whole face flushed red in embarrassment. This guy had to be the cutest one she’s ever been on a date with… he was so precious.

“Don’t tease me too! Whose side are you on?” Katsumi felt his heart race at how joyful (your name)’s expression was as she interacted with his mom. His mom pointing out all of her favorite pictures to (your name). Katsumi didn’t realize how well she fit in… like it was natural for her. It was like she was truly his girlfriend…

“I’m sorry, babe. But you were so cute!” (Your name) smiled brightly at him. She pointed to a picture of him with his tiny foot in his mouth. “I can’t get over how you still have those majestic eyebrows. They must have been a strong gene.”

Katsumi downcast his gaze from her soft expression. He was going to melt into a puddle at this point. Katsumi has never felt this way before… a shame his parents noticed too. The older Orochi’s having Cheshire grins on their faces at the young couple.

“So when is the marriage?” Natsue joked, Doppo putting his hand on her shoulder with a nod.

“We’re not getting any younger so when is marriage and when are the grand kids-“

“We are leaving!” Katsumi jumped to his feet and scooped (your name) up in his arms. “Stop embarrassing me.”

The older couple laughed at the young couple’s expense. Natsue held Doppo’s hand as they watched Katsumi and (your name) walk out the door.

“Remember when we were like that?” Natsue asked Doppo softly, Doppo smiled.

“Of course I do. We still are.” Doppo pressed a kiss to Natsue’s head. The couple then cleaning up the table.

.

.

.

Katsumi carried (your name) out onto the street a ways until they were a few blocks from his parent’s house.

“I’m so terribly sorry about them. I didn’t think they’d jump right on that ship.” Katsumi apologized with a bow. (Your name) held his hand in hers to give him reassurance.

“You’re perfectly okay. Sometimes parents can be a bit much.” (Your name) gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. “They seem to love you a lot. Almost as much as they love babies.”

Katsumi and her share a laugh. The karateka blushing a bit more in the face. She was so beautiful and genuine… he felt as if he didn’t deserve her affection. Even if it was fake, it all felt so real…

“Say, how about I take you somewhere since we still have some time together?” Katsumi asked. He admired how small her hand was in his. Her daintiness was attractive to him.

“I’d love that. What are you thinking?” (Your name) smiled warmly at Katsumi. Katsumi gave her a wink in response.

“It’s a surprise.” The two walked off hand in hand. The karateka taking her to a little ice cream stand. “It’s not nearly as sweet as you but I thought it’d be a nice treat.”

(Your name) smiled at his flirtation. Out of all the men she has been on these rental dates with, Katsumi was pure boyfriend material. So far he was the whole package. She was amazed a man of his caliber didn’t have women lining up for him.

“I think you’re the sweet one.” (Your name) flirts back. She might have the tiniest crush on him. How could she not? He had a good family life, a stable job, he was active, he was handsome, easy to talk to, funny, and so sweet… maybe she’d for real date this guy… who knows.

She was still debating going back to the states to see her old beau. She wondered if that cocky guy missed her.

Katsumi and her walked side by side while they enjoyed their ice cream.

“It’s hard to believe you’re on the market.” (Your name) tells him. “You’re the whole package. You’re perfect.”

Katsumi blushed with a smile. “You really think so?”

“You’ve been nothing short of a gentleman and I really enjoyed my time with you. Even though your parents are a little crazy.” Katsumi laughs with a bright smile.

“Grand baby fever is a hell of a thing.” Katsumi finds himself staring at her lips in thought. He wanted to kiss her…

(Your name) smiled up at Katsumi. “Our time is about to come to an end. Would you be a doll and walk me to the subway station?”

“I’d love to.” Katsumi tells her softly. The karateka holding out his arm for her to take. “Shall I escort you, my lady?”

(Your name) snorted at the nickname. “What are you? A dweeb?”

“Maybe I’m a weirdo.” Katsumi wiggles his brows at her which caused her to laugh so hard, her chest hurt.

“Maybe you are.” (Your name) instead took his hand in hers. “But I like it.”

Katsumi trembled and bit his lip. The karateka pulling her body close to his with a sigh. This felt like a real date. This all felt real… perhaps he’d book her again?

“I never do this and I’m not supposed to but…” (your name) nervously smiled up at Katsumi. “Can I give you my number?”

The two both turned red in the face before they looked away. Katsumi muttered a yes.

Katsumi pulled his hand from hers to hand her his phone with a shaky hand. (Your name) typed her number in with a smile. She handed it back to him with a smirk.

Katsumi rose a brow at her. “Why did you put a star beside your name?”

“Because I’m a star.” (Your name) nodded her head at him which caused him to laugh.

“Okay. I can see that.”

The two of them joked the entire way back to the subway. Occasionally bumping into each other in a playful manner.

This was the best date she’s ever had… a shame she had no idea what she’s just gotten herself into… there was a reason Katsumi was still single…

.

.

.

(Your name) dreamily sighed when she walked into her apartment. Her phone screen lit up a light, pastel pink with an oh so familiar notification.

ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍɪ ʜᴀꜱ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ 5 ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ 30% ᴛɪᴘ! ʜᴏᴏʀᴀʏ!

(Your name) smiled warmly at the notification. She adored Katsumi so far. The karateka already sent her a good night text too… what a gentleman. She was happy to bank out so much money tonight and find a potential boyfriend. A win is a win.

(Your name) stretched her arms with a content sigh, she placed her phone on her bedside table to charge. (Your name) then slipped out of her clothes and headed towards the shower. It was time to call it a night.

Another notification lit up her screen while she was in the bathroom.

ʙᴀᴋɪ ʜᴀɴᴍᴀ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ��ɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏɴᴅᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ! ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛ?

ʏᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ɴᴏ?

[slingbats]

Hi,i really love how to draw Caped Crusader's Penguin <3

I saw that you said that you struggle with drawing strong jaws on characters but i think that you always do her a justice. She looks absolutely stunning in your art. Also I'm a huge fan of an idea that she has a fully shaved head (I'm not against her balding either lol) so props to you for portraying this

Even if she'll never appear again (both in context of this show and outside of it) it's really refreshing to see a female version of character that isn't a paper thin loving mom.

(ps: nothing wrong with evil loving mothers but its usually perceived as a "default" characteristic for modern female villains,if that makes sense)

Omg I keep opening up and reading this again lkfgjflkgj thank you so much!!

Also yeah, I would've been more blatant abt it but like I said even though I'm sure she's perfectly comfortable with whatever's going on with her real hair I don't think she'd ever let anyone see it so we're gonna have to settle for ruffled wig in my last silly pic ✌

and man I hope we ever see her again it would be so disappointing to only get to see her once, but I guess if we're gonna dedicate a fair amount of time to different characters in the next season then it's fffffiiiiiiine I Guess. I like her

also I totally agree, I think lately it's the idea of "contrasts," kind of... wouldn't it be funny or interesting if very evil characters had one soft trait, you know? Like they have a soft spot for a kind of pet or family Or Something, but I like that she's kind of fucking ruthless, women's wrongs and all that

but it reminded me of this old Hark! A Vagrant panel, so...