#i love these little bug eyed freaks

[two-crabs]

It’s raining in Dunwall. It’s always raining in Dunwall. The streets are slick and shiny, and oil lamps cast long pallid shadows across the walls. In their light, the mosaic of red-brown bricks that make up the city are all rendered in flat and frigid grays. At this time of night, Dunwall’s alleys and byways are quiet, except for the steady patter of rain or scuttling of rats.  It’s peaceful, almost. 

Maudlin is making their way across the bridge from Draper’s Ward, retracing a path that has become as known to them as the inside of their room or Madam Edwards’s parlor. Between the sound of rain as it hits the river, and the change in the cobblestones as they pass into the Distillery District, they can walk this way and back by sound and feel alone. 

They’re past the Abbey, skirting along the edges of the Slaughterhouse District, slipping through narrower and more precarious passages as they approach home, when they hear it. A long, low whistle, and then the laughing of men. It echoes down the lanes, and in the space between Maudlin’s ears, and sends a chill down their spine. 

“Hey, pretty—” a low gravely voice finds them, and Maudlin rushes to hide their hair under their coat. They’d let it down at Madam Edwards’s house, to relieve the beginnings of an exhaustion headache, and simply not thought about it since. “—what are you doin’ out here all by yourself?” 

Maudlin’s stomach drops. What were they doing? Madam Edwards had insisted they stay until morning. Hester had even offered to walk with them, but she had taken Madam Edwards up on her offer, and they couldn’t bear to deprive her of a single minute more of sleep. 

“Comin’ home from the Cat?” —and— “Don’t be shy now.” Two different voices, but both just as oily as the first, and when Maudlin finally finds the courage to look behind them, three men in long coats and heavy boots are silhouetted by the rain and scarce lamp light, keeping steady pace behind them.

Four blocks from the boarding house, faster if they cut down the narrow alley between the train tracks and the canal, but that would force them into even tighter quarters with their pursuers. 

“I have no money!” Maudlin calls over their shoulder, quieter than they want to. In front of them, the path splits three ways, and they have to stop to think—damn them for still having to think—about which way is the most direct route. In the breath it takes, they hear the men chuckle again, closer, and watch the shadow of a fourth emerge from one of the alleyways. 

Maudlin breaks left, but only makes it a few paces before something falls to the ground in front of them, and shatters. Heart pounding and limbs quaking, Maudlin presses their back to the soaked wall on instinct, and stares at the shards of a grey roofing tile scattered in the middle of the street. 

And then Maudlin looks up—

A hand on their wrist shocks them, gasping, into action, and this time they do run. They move as fast as they can through twisting passages and over uneven streets, blind to the turns they should be making, vision blurred by the rain and senses clouded by panic. They can’t tell if the footfalls behind them are getting closer, can’t tell if the fourth figure joined them, can’t tell which way would take them to a main thoroughfare, doesn’t know if a member of the city watch would help them even if they found one. 

Maudlin steps in a puddle a full hand deeper than it looked, rolls their ankle, and drops, wet and heavy to the ground, like a gamebird shot from the sky.  

Dunwall is a dangerous place, it was said, at port, and on the Abandon, and in Tyvia. And  all they can think about as the three men hover over them, faces black with shadow, is that this is not the kind of danger Maudlin needed to be warned about. 

Wincing, they haul themself up onto an elbow and try to back away. “I have…something… dangerous…” they pant, and reach for their pocket in a clumsy bluff. The men all snicker again. 

Rainwater soaking through their clothes, Maudlin stumbles to get their feet under them, but the cobblestones are slick and an uncontrollable shake grips their muscles. “Please…” they beg, exhaling and raising both quivering hands. “I don’t w—” 

The biggest man slaps a hand to his neck like he was stung by a wasp, and groans in pain, before collapsing to the pavement, his head smacking into the stone beneath him, inches from Maudlin’s knee. There is a hollow dart sticking out of his neck, its shaft a gently glowing green. 

The other two men jump back, one of them brandishing a small knife, and crane their necks to look up and down the alleys around them. They mutter something back and forth in what might be Morleyan and might be Serkonan, and might just be a Northern Gristoli so heavily accented as to be its own wretched dialect. Whatever it is Maudlin barely registers that they’re talking at all; there is blood rushing in their ears and a thought repeating in their mind: I am being watched. 

As suddenly as the first, a second man wails before his legs give out, falling into an awkward and painful looking heap. 

The last man, the one with the knife, turns to Maudlin, then, and points it at them, and hurls a stream of what they can now tell is a foreign language and, unmistakably, vile. He steps around the man at his feet, and Maudlin pushes away, until they’re practically hugging the wall, a screaming ankle, poor traction, and uncooperative limbs still preventing them from standing. 

In the midst of the unfamiliar abuses, the man stops and spits in Maudlin’s direction. It’s lost in the fall of the rain, but they shudder at the sight nonetheless.

And then, a series of jarring sounds: a brief rush of wind, the metallic singing of a sword being unsheathed, bone cracking under impact, and a third and final body dropping silently to the ground. 

It’s quiet again, in Dunwall, as Maudlin stares up at the figure that was hidden behind last man. In their fist is a sword held backwards, knife-like blade over one shoulder, butt end held ready to strike. Their knee-high boots are covered in muddy gaiters, and planted in a fighting stance. They are festooned with bandoleers, and beneath the hood of a heavy grey oiled-leather coat, the glassy eyes of a whaler’s mask stare down at Maudlin. 

After a moment of held breath, Maudlin grits their teeth and finally, slowly, manages to pull themself to their feet, still leaning against the wall for support, and never takes their eyes off the whaler. 

Hesitant, the whaler drops their sword, and sheathes it into a thick belt at their waist. They stand there, then, unmoving, and Maudlin can see their chest rising and falling with quickened breath. 

Maudlin swallows a few times, wipes the rain from their eyes. “Th-thank you, I suppose.” Even their jaw is shaking, so their words come out in an ungraceful tumble. “You…whichever one y-y—you are…t-tell your boss, also, thank you.” And Maudlin inclines their head in a hesitant bow. 

The whaler takes a step forward, an arm half-extended, but straightens again when Maudlin recoils at the movement. 

“I am not f-far…from h—ome.” Maudlin says, and tests putting weight on their ankle. It is unpleasant, but bearable. They look down at the men unconscious—or worse—at their feet. “I should-d not be here. If—when they w-wake up.” 

The whaler is silent—Not Pip, thinks Maudlin—and still, water dripping down the eyepieces and off the nose-like end of the mask. 

Maudlin turns, one hand on the wall, and takes a single hobbling step before looking back over their shoulder. 

The whaler has one hand lifted to the clasp at the bottom of their chin, where Maudlin knows the mask is buckled in place. For a moment, Maudlin is curious to meet another one of these ghosts that haunt the city. 

“Tell also…your b-boss,” Maudlin says, watching them. “That…that Miss Hester is staying with Madam Amruta Edwards tonight, yes? In Drapers Ward? In case he…wonders. About these things.” The whaler’s hand drops to their side, then, and Maudlin clears their throat. “And…in case that is why you were…here. Tonight.” Maudlin grimaces again, pain shooting up the back of their calf.  “She is not with me. She is…safe. And dry.”

The whaler takes another faltering step towards Maudlin, then looks down. Slowly, they raise their other hand, and place it in the center of their chest. In the closeness of the alley, Maudlin can hear their muffled breathing through the mask, and can feel the weight of significance in the gesture. But before they can say anything more, there is gust of wind, and the whaler dissolves before them like paper in the rain. 

Maudlin stands for a moment, already soaked to the bone, and hopes idly that the men on the ground are not dead, before starting the slow walk home. 

[sasuketron]

handing my yuuta figures little flower bouquets to congratulate him on beating the fraud allegations

[refundwhereappliccable]

Hii, if requests are still open, could you draw these two together? (They have a bond like toothless and hiccup from httyd!)

Here they are!! I'm not super good with little tiny creatures but I tried my best! (I had to guess so I went with cargo shorts for the bottoms cause I thought it fit them)

[greedbun]

It’s very dangerous for my bank account to be living so close to glass shops…. But sometimes I need a lil treat.

[ladyofthecreeddraws]

Bug-eyed little freak whomst i love and hate and love and hate an-

[lovebugism]

Hiii can i request shy reader whos anxious about different things? I have weird anxiety lol that makes it hard for me to eat in front of people until im comfortable around them. Can i request reader x Steve who have been dating for a while and she tries to avoid eating around him, but she finally gets comfortable and Steve is just so happy, thank you!!

hope you like it angel :D — steve takes care of his anxious gf at a family barbecue (established relationship, hurt/comfort ish, cw for mentions of anxiety and unexplained issues with food | 1.1k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The picnic table in Steve’s backyard is hardly big enough for all of you. Even when Max and El agree to lay out on a blanket together some feet away — and when Lucas and Erica spontaneously decide to race each other to the pool — it’s still an achingly tight fit. 

You, in particular, are sandwiched between two bodies much larger than yours. Eddie sits to your right, lacking any real concept of personal space, and Steve is off to your left. The latter keeps a strong arm around your back, hugging you closer to his chest every time the wild-haired boy accidentally knocks into you.

“Okay, me and Nance are getting something to eat,” Robin announces, standing suddenly from the table, visibly overstimulated from the constant conversation. Her eyes flit to your cowering form and then to Steve’s protective one. “You guys have fun with… this.”

It takes all of ten seconds for the others to follow behind them. Dustin and Eddie file through the Harrington family barbecue together, filling their decorative paper plates like they’re at an actual buffet. Mike and Will walk on pale, lanky legs around the yard — stopping once to talk to Max and El, then again by the pool with Lucas and Erica.

You and Steve are the only ones still sitting, but he hugs you to him like you aren’t. 

You can feel the early summer breeze on your skin now, without the crowd of teenagers suffocating you. You can hear the whispering wind, and the gentle humming of his pool, and the sounds of quieter conversation in the distance. You can breathe again. Almost. Still slightly strangled by a distant worry that Steve can read from here.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders cautiously, ‘cause he knows how you are about food. You haven’t let him in on the extent of it yet, but he knows it’s there, so he’s obscenely patient with you accordingly.

You glance once over your shoulder — at the tables of grilled meat and food cooked with love. Your stomach rolls with a distant ache, an empty one. You turn back to Steve and shrink under the weight of his honey-eyed stare. “Um… Kinda,” you confess in a mousy voice, shifting on the wooden bench.

His eyes widen in a soft look of surprise. You usually take a little more coaxing than that. 

“Want me to make you a plate?” he offers, squeezing your shoulder with a gentle hand. His pink lips quirk in a sympathetic smile. “We can take it up to my room if you want— get away from all these freaks.”

Your chest warms at his efforts to accommodate you. The way he loves you makes you brave. 

“That’s okay,” you shrug, trying to be cool even though your voice trembles. “We can... We can stay down here.”

Steve’s chest swells with pride. It bubbles up like sunshine until he’s beaming with it. 

It took you months to feel comfortable enough to eat in front of just him. And here you are now, utterly adored and finally brave enough to eat with all the rest of his shithead friends around.

“Yeah?” he hums, still smiling.

“Yeah,” you nod, gaze averted to your hands, which are wringing something fierce in your lap. You force a small laugh. “But it wouldn’t be, like, totally lame if I asked you to come with me, would it?”

Steve scoffs. “Like you even have to. I’m not let you get to the corndogs before me,” he jokes and rises from the creaking bench. “We’ll be lucky if Robin and Henderson don’t eat ‘em all first.”

He gets you laughing so you don’t think twice about meandering across the yard with him — about the eyes that are or are not watching you, or the weird way you are or are not walking. 

And because he keeps you laughing (and largely unthinking), you end up stacking your plate with more food than Steve’s ever seen you eat in public before. He almost mentions it. Almost. But he opts to keep his pride to himself, instead, lest he ruin the moment.

You return to the picnic table with all his friends, noticeably less anxious about being so squished together than before. 

And maybe it’s because Dustin and Eddie can’t eat anything without being sloppy — or maybe it’s because Will’s keeping you distracted with talks of his newest D&D campaign — but you down your food with more ease than Steve’s ever seen from you. Unworried about the crumbs sticking to your fingers and the very corner of your mouth. Completely and utterly comfortable here with him, and with everyone else around you.

The sight makes his heart swell. 

It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

He catches you alone for the first time when you’re tossing empty plates. It’s not exactly the most ideal spot to steal a kiss from you — by the deck, next to the garbage bins — but it’s the first either of you have been out of sight from prying eyes all day. 

So, Steve takes the opportunity and grabs it. Literally. He cradles your wrist in a gentle hand and ushers you closer towards him. Your feet stumble in the tall grass. The tip of his nose brushes the bridge of yours, and you flinch. 

“I taste like cheeseburger,” you laugh.

“I don’t care,” Steve shrugs, face screwed, visibly mourning your mouth. “I taste like barbecue. Who gives a shit?”

He ducks down to kiss you again. And this time, you let him. 

He kisses you harder than you anticipated — a long and languid peck that takes your breath away. He tastes faintly of all the food he’d eaten before, something savory and strawberry sweet. It leaves you dizzy when he pulls away, lips smacking softly as they part.

“What was that for?” you wonder breathlessly a moment later.

Steve bounces his shoulder in a lazy shrug. His kissed lips quirk in a lopsided smile. “Nothin’. I’m just… I’m just proud of you, I guess.”

He doesn’t elaborate any further. He doesn’t have to. You cower at the notion of being perceived and scrunch your nose in disdain. “For being a normal person?” you joke with a cynical scoff. “For once?”

“No. For doing something that was hard for you,” Steve argues, still smiling. His hands rest warm and wide on the outside of your elbows. His thumbs rub softly along the skin there. “And for lookin’ real cute while you were doing it, too.”

You squint, trying hard not to smile at his smiling. 

“Stop flirting with me,” you grouse.

The boy’s pink lips jut in a playful pout. “But why?” he whines. “That’s, like, my favorite pastime.”

[gamblersdoll]

nsfw, cnc mention, rough sex, spit, spanking, degrading, deku using blackwhip, manipulation. lmk if i didnt tag it. attempted kidnapping, stalker themes implied.

an: its been edited for more… fantasy.

the city was clear skied at night, civilly looking and dressed by the way. no villains were out, crime was semi dying downing and only left to maybe crimes that occurred twice a month. even then, it wasnt like it was eliminated.

maybe the universe was trying to give you and izuku, the number two pro here, after todoroki, a chance at happiness. maybe a saving grace, it could be. it only started after you and izukus marriage, it was a good thing. the media went crazy about you and izuku marrying , screaming how it wasnt meant to be.

thats the only reason it brought izukus rating down, because of a damn relationship. it wasn’t supposed to be you and izuku, it was just supposed to be ochako and izuku. yet, izuku always assured you that you were his true love.

and maybe that saving grace after the marriage was short lived, since crime spiked back up, immediately too.

and it was one that was very, destructive. which only meant a specific person that unfortunately fell into the hands of crime when he was attempting to be a hero.

dynamight.

izuku often did search for him, attempting to find his childhood best friend who desperately wanted to be a hero. but would always come up empty handed..

this time was different.

“izuku!” you screamed, keeping the door open and just staring at the horrifying box in front of you. he comes stumbling down the stairs, hand on your hip and bug eyed at the box.

someone has it out for you, bad. and they have your address, presumably pretending to be usps. or it was someone who worked at the delivery company, sending you body parts for and as an act of love.

it didnt make sense to you.

“are you going to be okay when im gone, love?” izuku says, tightening up his hero boots and looking to you. you nod, feeling his hand caressing your cheek and kissing your lips. “good. i love you.”

“i love you.” you say back, watching him depart from you in a instant. he had to go to the americas for a mission, supposedly. there was a big problem over there and they needed as many heroes as possible.

thats what heroes do, right?

thats what you at least remind yourself, since you were on active leave because of a big mission you did. you were forced to take a break, since your arm and shoulder were damaged. you were only discharged a couple months ago—

“grab the girl!” a rando shouted, a hand over your mouth and a knife to your throat. you were fucked, dropping your phone in a scramble and you damn sure couldnt use your fucking quirk. “what a lucky day! just my damn luck–!”

and you heard him gargle, was he that fucked in his mind he had gone rabid? his hands drop, his heavy weight pushing into you and you.. move away? you look to see what had happened, only to see his head had became scrambled.

you feel a cold sweat, your stomach churning and it feels like you could vomit. sure, youre a pro now— that doesnt mean you cant feel a little sick from the gore of the scene. you look to the wall, reading it.

‘youre welcome.’

someone had saved you? it was that quick? you look around the area, top and bottom. there wasnt a gunman, nor was there any traces. you scramble to find your device, calling izuku.

please, pick the fuck up.

“baby?” he asks, sounding concern.

“i almost got kidnapped—“ you start, but you think that izuku would freak out. but.. hes more calm. “but, the weirdest shit happened, the perp just.. died behind me! his head.. its like halfway gone, and i guess whoever the ‘hero’ of the night is, basically said i was fucken welcomed.”

“youre okay though, right?” izuku asks. no, youre not fucking okay, you just almost got abducted and someone blew someones head off behind you! you grunt a response, “okay, get home safe, okay bunny?”

yeah, right.

yet, something felt.. off about him when he came back. he said he would be back by the twentieth of july, and it was the fucking first of august.

“where have you been?” you ask, worried, scared, nervous, angry, confused all hit you at the same time. it felt like hell, you didn’t want to be that insecure wife that questioned her husband each day.

“something came up, im sorry baby.” he apologized, coming over to hold you and kiss your cheek. “you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart.”

“i..” you try and start, but the words just got stuck into your throat.

“you?” izuku tries to help, but it looks like he didnt want to hear it. feigning confusion and worry on his face, not like you could tell.

you were too in love and worried to even pay attention.

“i.. i forgive you.” you say, shaking those negative feelings and thoughts away from your body. it was good that you did that, you never did well with it.

good, according to plan.

you both went to sleep peacefully that night, you did at least…

until you didnt, you were a light sleeper. and of course, you heard something. something wasnt right, no, it was too hot. izuku mustve changed the temperature in the house.

your feet move , still groggy and looking at the thermostat.

seventy-nine degrees?! did he want both of you to fucking boil!? you curse under your breath, changing it back to the original temperature, at least sixty degrees. yet, something still didnt feel right—

creak!

you think its izuku, so you go back upstairs. that boy was still asleep—

creeakk!

someone or something was in the house, and you shake him. “izuku, somethings in the house.” you silent shout, knowing he wasnt that heavy of a sleeper. was he really that tired to where he wouldnt wake to do a check in the house?

fine, be that fucking way, deku.

you go on your own, and you tiptoe in your own fucking house.. how comical. but there is a lingering smell, it wasnt a familiar smell.

or at least, not yours or izukus.

you check each room, there wasnt anything.. and then back downstairs. maybe you were paranoid—

no, the fuck you werent. or maybe you just see a big ass shadow man sitting in the corner of the living room. you stop in your tracks, you have to be making eye contact with this.. thing.

he clears his throat, tapping his foot, and goes to stand up–

“midori—mff!” you try to shout for him, but a hand comes around your mouth and you can smell it, chloroform.

you wake up finally, groggy and trying to remember what had happened, but you see him, bakugou. you remember his suit, his hair, those mean, red eyes that you had first fallen in love with.

“nothin’ to say?” he starts, pulling his hands out of his gloves and crouching in front of you. “welcome home, beauts.”

“zuku!” you try, but bakugou just laughs.

“he’s probably still asleep, he was always a heavy sleeper.” bakugou started again, “izuku?” he mocks, looking around and back to you. “still asleep.”

“you—“

“yeah yeah, im a villain, this that ‘n the third.” he mumbles, kissing your cheek then getting close to your ear. “but i saved you, didnt i?” he whispers, “youre welcome.”

and it clicks, he was the one that blew the guys’ brains out.

you hear a door open, and a tuff of green hair. izuku walks in, standing in the doorway and dynamight just looks at him. “izuku! please..” you say, knowing he would save you.

“oh, hey kacchan.” he simply says, walking over and dapping him up. it confused the fuck out of you, and he just looks at you like there isnt a fucking villain in front of you. “hi, baby.”

“midoriya, what the fuck are you doing?!” you shout, “do you not see him?” you question, feeling bakugou get behind you and release you.

“oh, i do.” he replies, kissing your cheek and releasing blackwhip to restrain you. “guess we should talk about it.”

talk about what?! that he allowed a villain inside?

you glare at him, and katsuki laughs. “oh, thats a mean ass look. could make me fold in a minute.”

“izuku.” you repeat, staring at him. “did.. you plan this?” you ask, hoping and praying to whatever god there was that you were wrong, like this was a bad dream and you were stuck.

“yeah, ive been wanting to tell you that.” he starts, seeing how your heart drops to your ass. “before you get all worried, its also technically your fault.”

now how in the mother fuck.

“how?” you ask, growing paranoid, angry, scared.

“did you not realize that the usps label was slightly ripped?” he asks, showing the box with the finger and the tongue inside of it. it makes you gag, and katsuki shushes you in consolation. “did you not realize that the perp who wanted to ‘kidnap’ you was our priest from our wedding?”

thinking back on it now.. maybe it was. no, it was our priest.

“but.. why kill the pre—??”

“he knew what was going on, and was trying to save you. as if you needed to be saved.” katsuki interrupted, brushing your hair back.

“and to be honest, all three of us were technically married. it was meant to be.” katsuki adds, showing the marriage license.

the three were.. married? meant to be?

riiipp!

you feel your sleep shorts be ripped off, looking to izuku for some sort of reasoning. he gets closer, kissing your lips and then looking back to katsuki. “be careful with her, you havent fucked her, ever.” he says, tightening blackwhip and smiling. “he’s going to be gentle this time, okay?”

you feel warmth around your slit, moaning out and you hate how you sound, the fact this was even arousing pissed you off.

why was it arousing?

“fuck, shes so sweet..” katsuki groans, licking at your clit and suckling. his heavy cock gets heavier, pulling you close and slipping into your walls.

“zuku!—“

“wrong name, baby.” katsuki rasps, pulling your hips back and thrusting into you. “ha..haaah!” he pants out, tongue lolled out and drooling onto your ass. “oh, ive wanted this, ive wanted thiss!”

“its okay, bunny, see how hes being so sweet with you?” izuku speaks, kissing you cheek. he looks at your crossed eyes, fists balled up and he rubs your knuckles.

this feels wrong, but it doesnt feel so bad.

or was it you being corrupted that manipulated you into thinking that?

it was definitely the corruption of your walls that shot to your mind, your ass burned from the constant slam of his hips into them. “fuck, wanted you since the day i saw you!” he growls, spitting onto your back and wrapping a arm around your neck.

and this fucker izuku just watches.

“going to make you mine, mine!” katsuki says, feeling your corrupt walls squeezes around him in ecstasy, which causes him to break you. he slaps your ass, digging his nails into the tender flesh as he holds onto you for support. “gunna’ cum in you, fuck ive wanted this so bad!”

it makes izuku hard.. really.

“wanted to watch you slut yourself out to deku.. wanted to watch you get cock drunk of’fa me!” he babbles, turns out he was getting pussy drunk off of you. he licks up your back, biting into your shoulder and whispers into you. “do you feel it? do you feel how much of a slut you are? huuhh?”

he whines his hips slow, laughing all mean and slapping your backend again. “oh, god, youre so much sexier in person!” he says, eyes dilating and he licks his canines. “fuck, just like that, going to fuckin cum!—“

he creams inside of you, feeling his seed spilling out of your walls. izuku only chuckles, lifting your head up to see your eyes.

your eyes were low and heavy, you had been in and out of consciousness. “see? we can all be a big happy married couple.”

—

“aand, cut!” the director says, katsuki just laughs and picks you up, blackwhip releasing you.

“you okay, mama?” he asks, squishing your cheeks and looking at your eyes. “shit, grab her water, idiot!” katsuki yells to the backstage, them rushing to the fridge.

“sugar, you okay?” izuku asks, tapping each part of your skin to bring your back down to earth. you nod, both men sighing in relief as katsuki helps you drink the cold water. “we didnt go to hard, did we?”

“mm, mm..” you respond, lazily looking up to them. “did me dirty though, having me in damn near eighty degree house.”

katsuki boisterously laughs, “that was my fault, forgot to turn it down, mama.” he says in a kiss.

[transmascdagothur]

Idk how to say this but I'm kinda tired of uwuifying every single aspect of Elder Scrolls and Dagoth Ur especially. I know the transmasc dagoth ur blog has been pretty funny so far but you know, TES lore by nature is insanely dark and i don't see many people appreciate that over here on tumblr. I want to see more horror. I want to portray Dagoth Ur as a fucked up husk of a sad man, I want him to be an absolutely horrifying monster. There's nothing wrong with taking terrifying characters and turning them into comfort characters because at the end of the day it's just fictional shit like go off monarchs, you want miraak to have a chiseled jawline and sheogorath to have a family, like that's cool and whatever. Tbh I love it when people use their imagination and come up with shit like that.

BUT. Personally I find it insanely cool when people can take a villain as a comfort as well as portraying them as just that: villains. Like can we all agree that if you portray a comfort oc as inherently evil or at least morally grey, IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU A BAD PERSON. You can like Dagoth Ur as the fucked up thing he is in game, you don't have to ignore that he literally wanted to drive out all the other races from morrowind and take over tamriel with a god robot. It doesn't mean you support ideas like that if you like the character. Idk why I need to say that.

It's not just Dagoth Ur, I see it with all the other evil characters too. Miraak, Mannimarco, all the daedric princes, Alduin, the tribunal, like ESPECIALLY the tribunal. I don't wanna hear anyone go like "nooo my babygirl Vivec has done nothing wrong" to me he is a bug eyed little freak and I LOVE HIM BUT HE ALSO BETRAYED AND SPEARED NEREVAR ALIVE. I'm looking at all of you rn. lol

Anyway so if you disagree with this idc, this is just my opinion. I'm just saying, I'm gonna focus on more darker aspects of this franchise from now on, at least with my other nerevarine oc Kazakir. But yall can still ask stuff about Dravas and his super romanticized AU with Dagoth Ur! Remember to hydrate and stretch your legs, rant over.

[liillyliilly]

take me home, please? sugawara koushi x reader content; helping out a co-worker when he had a headache really makes you feel like his mom sometimes- aka pure fluff words: 1120

Just how did you end up in these situations? Likely due to who you chose to be friends with.

So as you stood in front of Sugawara’s third grade class, talking about the school library, you couldn’t help but notice the shit-eating grin Koushi had on his face. The exact same face from high school. He had a raised eyebrow, and was jutting out his bottom a little in amusement at your dialogue.

You clasp your hands together, “Does anyone have any questions.”

In the back, Sugawara raises his hand while sitting at his teacher’s desk. You rephrase your statement, “Which of you students has a question about our school library?”

The bug-eyed seven and eight year olds looked at each other for a moment, then just blankly stared back at you.

You slowly nod, embracing the awkwardness. As the librarian at Ohya Elementary School, you weren’t really ever in charge of teaching lessons, you just talked to students about books when they would come for library time during the week. But Sugawara, your high school friend, now co-worker, had asked- no, practically begged- you to come and teach his students about all it takes to be a librarian.

Sugawara stood up, clapping his hands three times and his students copied the motion.

“Alrighty, Rose class, we’re on lunch duty today, go wash up. Make sure to thank our lovely librarian for teaching us a little bit about her job.”

The littles ran up to you, forming a single file line. One would bow, before rushing out the classroom to wash up. You kept repeating small slight bows with just your head. After 20 nods of your head, you felt a little dizzy, but could manage.

“Koushi, if you surprise me with having to talk to your students again, I won’t hesitate to complain to the administration. You’re the teacher, you’re the one who's supposed to teach.” You sit down on one of the little desks, your feet comfortably reaching the floor due to the lack of height to the small table.

Sugawara tucks his hands into his pockets, shrugging. He sits down next to you, on a separate desk, stretching his legs out across the rainbow carpet below your feet.

“I like it when you teach though, your eyes get that mix of fear and excitement.” He chuckles.

“Because your kids are freaking scary!” You whisper-yell, throwing a hand up in exasperation. “Ever seen a seven year old not act like an ankle biter? I don’t think so.”

You shiver a little, thinking about the grubby fingers. But all the students made up for the childish grossness they carried when they would hold a book up to you so you could check it out for them. The way they’d say thank you for helping them find a good book to read, or even when they’d ask to hold your hand when walking into the far back corner of your library. Those were the moments that made your job worth it in the end.

“Still, thank you for teaching a lesson. My headache is still pounding.” Sugawara holds a hand up to his temple, rubbing it in circles.

Even though it had been a shock when Sugawara poked his head into your office a few hours ago, you accepted his request fairly quickly. Because you could see the clenched jaw and squinted eyes he had in reaction to the brightness in your office.

“Mrs. Ito is going to take your class for their lunch duties yeah?” You ask, standing up from the table. Sugawara had asked the fellow third grade teacher to watch his kids for the rest of the day so he could go home to rest up. Mrs. Ito was a very no-nonsense woman, she would run his class like the army, but hopefully tomorrow Sugawara would be able to have an easier day.

You lean forward in front of Sugawara, place a hand on his forehead, and it burns. “Koushi, you’re running a fever!”

You keep your hand on his forehead, using your other hand to cup the back of his neck to tilt his face up to you a little. Then his neck starts to heat up under your fingers.

“Your neck is boiling, are you having a heat flash?” You lean closer.

Sugawara chokes on his saliva slightly, trying to put some space between his face and yours. The smell of your floral perfume, the soft touch of your hands, the criminally adorable nametag you had on your white cardigan, not to mention the baby blue dress you had on. It was all too overwhelming for him.

Clearly the blush was misinterpreted by you, which gave Sugawara some leeway. He put his hands on your hips and stood up, twisting you around so your calves hit the back of the small desk.

“I just need to get home, I think.” Sugawara loosens his hold on you, but keeps his hands hovering around you. Until you shake your head in understanding and slide out from between him and the desk.

“Are you good to drive home?” You grab your purse from the coat hook near the entrance of the class and pull it over your shoulder.

Sugawara sighs a little, putting on his best act to win over your pity. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

You frown, sad for Sugawara. He continues putting on his best portrayal of sickness- even though his headache was only a mild migrane and not one that required a trip to the hospital.

He pushes a little further into your friendship with him when he asks, "Take me home, please?"

It had become habit for him now, to request little things from you. He hoped that somewhere along the way, that his requests would endear you to him. Making you like him more and more, even if it was just out of friendly obligation sometimes.

“Ah, well, I can drive you then. Let’s go.” You always found yourself taking care of Sugawara one way or another, and this was just one of the ways you expressed your friendship and kindness for him.

Sugawara follows you to your car like a puppy.

Mrs. Ito has Rose class scooping up rice and putting it onto their peers plates. When she pauses to have the kids swap jobs, she gets a glimpse of you opening the car door for Sugawara through the window. Your head was down and focused on unlocking the vehicle.

Sugawara had his head in his hand, looking at you lovingly as he leaned against your car. Mrs. Ito almost, but didn’t, smile at the way her fellow third grade teacher was acting so twitterpated for the school librarian.

[yellowheartz]

Damn, hold let me help you there. (Hcs in tags)

Guys my tummy hurts

Send me your saiki k hcs so I can recover

[n3ptoonz]

How about a part 2 of the ‘sugardaddy!Johnny Cage’ where we ACTUALLY, GENUINELY get pregnant:33??

part 2 in blurb form ☝🏾🙂‍↕️ if you are new, fic here

pregnant!reader blurb with sugardaddy!johnny cage

no warnings, fluff, johnny being in love and having baby fever like a mf, obviously the kid is named cassie we knew this 😎

johnny soon-to-be-father cage, there is nobody he knows that DOESNT know. he demanded to his agents that he get to stay with you through the entire process. he even proposed to you the day he came back from set. he wanted to commit to you as quickly as possible and give your beloved soon-to-be-daughter the best life she could ever have.

if you're fine with being on social media, oh, when WONT you be? his posts have gone from bizarre sightings and photo shoots to "look at my gorgeous wife!" and wife memes reposted all over his story. but if not, he won't. it would bum him out a little bit, but he understands. he will be already setting up the pregnancy photo shoot for you months in advance though, ya gotta give him that.

he has dad and mom merch coming in packages by the day. "future dad" and "future mom" shirts to "girl dad" hoodies. you name it. and don't even get me started on how he treats you. by the gods, you'd think you married a prince. 5 star quality service, and you literally have to pry him off of you when you want to do things yourself. he doesn't want you lifting a finger, but damn, a quick trip to the bathroom is a one-person job!

when you're finally in labor, expect him to be in the know about every little thing regarding you and the baby's health. he's freaking the hell out, and shoot, you think he's the one in labor with how tight he's holding your hand. it's adorable. he literally practiced being able to withstand your grip in case you needed to when this day came. and through all those hours and a successful birth, out came your precious daughter, cassandra cage. cassie for short. (he's been talking about this name nearly the entire pregnancy).

when i say tear flow, i mean it. he cried more than you did! he was sitting next to you all bug eyed and lovesick. being in the presence of the mother of his child and his baby girl had him ready to drop everything. while you slept he would almost never put her down, even letting her fall asleep in his arms multiple times. he didn't care if his arms got tired. your rest was more important than anything else in the world.

oh and it takes you verbally telling him two months later that it's okay for him to go back to work. like he would refuse to leave your side. but you did promise to take lots of pictures and said he can facetime every time he had a break. expect his earthrealm buddies to check up on you every once in a while too. liu kang the most. (you have a giant pile of freshly picked fruits from raiden and lao so cassie became accustomed to organic fruit very quickly and won't eat any other kind)

[artdcnaldson]

THANK YOU FOR MATCHING MY FREAK

You’re art’s sister and are like 2-3 years younger. You meet Patrick when you’re 12 and he comes to your house during summer break to visit Art. You’ve always had a crush on him and he knows you well enough to consider you a friend you know, but at that time you’re still just Art’s little sister.

Flash forward couple years, Art is out of college and with Patrick on tour (they never have a falling out in this AU) and both of them are like 24. You’re 21/22 and freshly out of college and well you want to take a gap year before finding a job. You felt like you didn’t really experience in college yk. Constantly studying and never even really went out. Kissed a couple guys but sadly still a virgin and quite frankly embarrassed.

You decide its a great idea to travel. I mean what’s not to like! Get to see new places, except your family doesn’t have the money to let you galavant anywhere you want and you’re a broke college grad, so you’re stuck traveling on your big brother on tour. Not that you don’t love him, Art’s a great brother, it just isn’t what you planned….until you realize Patrick is there too.

When you finally meet up with them, you realize Patrick has just gotten hotter. More of a man now at 24 and well you’re not the shy little kid you were anymore. You’re 22 and know what you want. And well you don’t know if you’re beautiful (patrick already thinks so but shhh you don’t know that) but you do think with the right clothes and attitude you could get him interested (he already is but again shhh you don’t know that).

So yeah you decide you don’t really need to wear bras anymore and that tiny little lacey panties are soooooo much better for you. Short skirts or the long white ones that are kinda see through in sun or any bright light are your favorites. And little tiny tight tops. You always make sure to give Patrick hugs after his games and always compliment him. Looking up at him with big eyes.

Patrick notices. God he notices. He knows what you’re up to. When you’re drunk you whisper about how much you want him and how you touch yourself thinking about him and how no one’s ever had you like that and that you wants him to be the one who does. He’s not surprised at this, Art’s repressed as fuck so yeah of course you are too (he blames the catholic upbringing but thats a different story). What he is surprised tho is how much you want it…how much hr wants you…god he wants to completely defile you. In every way possible. Fucking claim you in a way you’re begging him to do so. He swears he isn’t possessive but the thought of any one else with you starts to bug him too. You’re just so sweet and need someone right for you :( not some random douche :( someone who’d treat you right :( and fuck you right :( God he wants you so bad…it’s just you’re Art’s sister.

- 🫀

EXACTLYYYYY EXACTLYY

Art notices something is up, gets a little protective, the way a good big brother should. He starts carrying an extra jacket in his car specifically so he can give it to you when you’re out with the two of them, to cover up how short your skirt is.

He sees how you go to Patrick whenever you can, how you cling to his side and look at him all starry-eyed and sweet.

“You need to tell her you aren’t interested,” Art tells Patrick one night, when they’re brushing their teeth in a hotel bathroom. You’re across the hall, blissfully unaware of what your brother is doing.

Patrick could just agree, could tell him he’d never go for his best friend’s sister, and that he’d tell you to leave him alone. But he’s nothing if not an asshole.

“What if I am interested?” The words are spoken around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste that he spits into the sink. “Your sister’s hot, she wants me, clearly. She could do worse.”

Art shoves him, which makes Patrick grin. “Fuck you. I’ve seen how you get with women. I’ve been on the other side of the door and heard it. If you ever even look at her the wrong way, I will break your fucking knees.”

Patrick leans against the wall, his lips twitching into a grin. “That could be good. I’d be all bedridden and weak. She could take advantage of me, make me submit to her perverted desires.”

Art groans, meets his gaze. “I’m serious, Pat. Tell me you’re going to put a stop to it, or I’ll have to make her go home.”

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands up. “I’ll tell her to knock it off.”

But what can he do when Art’s taken some pretty girl at the bar back to the hotel? when you’re drunk off of sweet girly drinks and it’s just the two of you? When you’re batting your lashes at him, telling him how handsome he looks, that you want to kiss him so bad, want him to touch your— but you can’t say it, you’re looking down, all shy.

But you’re not shy enough that you can’t tell him that you’re not wearing a bra, that you’re not wearing panties. That you want him so bad it’s hurting and you just need him to make it feel better. That no one’s ever touched you before, but you think he should be the first. That the first time you played with yourself it was after you watched one of his matches.

Jesus fucking Christ. He gets a glass of water, makes you drink it all in front of him, then makes you drink another. You follow on wobbly legs as he walks you back to the hotel, keeps a nice firm hand on your wrist.

You’re beaming when he brings you to your room, start clumsily stripping off your dress. He has to turn around when your dress pools on the floor, has to physically cover his eyes so he’s not tempted to turn around.

“Jesus, put some fucking pajamas on.”

“Pattttt—“ you whine. But when he doesn’t move you obey. He can see your nipples through the tin tank top, but it’s better than nothing, literally.

“C’mere, let’s get you ready for bed.”

He sits you on the counter in the bathroom, wipes off your makeup carefully. You groan, press your forehead against his as a wave of nausea hits. You smell sweet, like vanilla, but mostly like liquor. He holds your hair while you vomit, wipes at your teary eyes and says it’s fine, he’s seen worse. He’s been worse.

And then you’re crying, saying you like him so much and you wish you could just have him— that he’s so nice to you it hurts in your chest like you can’t breathe. He thinks it’s sweet, but you’re just drunk.

He brushes your teeth, carries you to the bed. Slides the hotel trashcan next to the bed, just in case. And he shouldn’t, but he leans down and kisses your forehead too.

“Please don’t leave, Pat. I feel sick.”

He sighs, texts Art. Full disclosure, I’m staying in your sister’s room so she doesn’t choke on her own vomit. Have fun with the room tonight bro.

He falls asleep sitting up in the armchair by the TV, and the two of you notably don’t talk about it the next morning.

[heartfullofleeches]

Combining two of my new loves into one as they're the perfect pair - Dismissive Yan and Chipper-Creep Darling

I fancy writing creep reader as that eerie silent stalker, and secretive about their deviancy and malice, but one who's loud and proud about it is just as good. Your smile is so pretty!♡ can I have your teeth if you die? Saw you in my dream like night... You look cute in red. Their smile is friendly, but not welcoming. How anyone can be around this horror of a human being is a mystery..... in comes their knight looking like the corpse of their dreams with that dead eyed stare.

Dismissive Yan is just that. Nothing phases or gets beneath their skin. Cry, scream, hurt or tell them how much you hate their guts and they wouldn't bat an eye. Simply ask if you're yet done and if you're ready to eat now - or are you just going to throw it in their face again. "Ok" and "Sure" is the bulk of their vocabulary. Life's a bitch and they just don't have the energy to care, but don't be fooled by how indifferent to reality they are. Belittle them all you want, but the second anyone talks about their darling they're slitting throats on the spot. A tyrant when it comes to those who get in their way - crushing their victim's fingers one by one beneath their heel with zero thoughts in their head.

Together, Creep Darling and Dismissive Yan seem incompatible on the surface. "Don't touch me in public, Y/n...." "Then smile! Come on, smile- I know you want to~" Creep doesn't respect their personal space and always trying to push buttons they don't have. Their Yan barely reacts on the outside, but touch their chest and their heart is racing. These two truly bond when someone makes fun of creep for their behavior - and their bully gets the shit beaten out of them for it. Teeth flying, bones broken. Instant heart eyes for that freak. While patching them up, creep darling goes on and on about becoming murder spouses someday. Yan only asks you let their hands heal first.

This lead to a full scenario where reader is some kind of protecting force for Yan. My first idea was a doll/robot they come across one day or is forced on them for their reclusive nature. Only problem is that doll has a nasty little bug... that gives them a taste for blood and pastel colors. "Smile or die!" ... What do you mean that's not how you greet a human?? They hang around Yan because they keep a roof over their head and their parts in peak condition. Humans are broken when they're sad so they have to rid the world of every miserable one way or another. Dismissive Yan never expresses any emotion so you can't do a thing but tease and push until they do. Unfortunately, you don't get that honor.

Ambushed one eve by people who didn't take too kindly to them either, you're knocked down first so you don't get in the way. When your systems reboot and you're ready to knock some heads, you wake up with the skulls you aim to crush already caved by the lead pipe that took you down and that weirdo standing over you. Boo - looks like they broke too. You guess you won't kill this downer, not with them crying over you like this. And for helping you out. The new eye they buy you better be top quality

[hacash]

hickey's smugness as he boasts to crozier of 'turning' hodgson is so fucking funny to me because...what exactly did that accomplish? how did hodgson in any way contribute to hickey's Deviously Evil Plan? i love that damp bug-eyed religiously-ambiguous weirdo dearly, but he's not the brains, he's not the muscle, he contributed exactly one (1) thing to the mutineers, and that was a haunting catholic monologue.

when the hunting parties set out, did hodgson use that time as a chance for some light conspiring with hickey? did he hell; he fucking ran away from the guy (and left irving to be turned into a colander). nor does hodgson's backing up of hickey's lies come across as particularly treasonously motivated on this part: this is some excellent meta of how hodge genuinely believes that the inuit slaughtered irving, so probably the paranoia induced by irving's murder would have been the same with or without hodge's turning.

and you can't tell me hodgson was insurance against hickey being punished for treason: the man did absolutely jack-shit at hickey's trial, he was hardly going to rush the gallows and save hickey before he was hung. you could, potentially, make the argument that hickey knew his plan needed the validity of an officer's presence because of Ingrained Victorian Morals, but hodgson does absolutely zero leading in the mutineers. everyone and their (dead) dog knows hickey's in charge of the mutineers. even the idea of it being a symbolic 'fuck you' to crozier by having one of his lieutenants betray him is kinda let down by the fact that hodgson's 'betrayal' is...not all that much? he freaks out about the perceived inuit attack (which he likely would have done anyway), he gets lost in the fog, and then ends up with hickey's mutineers because they're literally the only people he can find. it's not exactly an et tu brute moment from poor old hodge there.

so what exactly was the point? what is hickey boasting about? all he managed to do in turning hodge was give himself another mouth to feed. and it's even funnier because hickey's whole spiel in the scene with hodgson is basically: it's all a matter of numbers, the three of us here can have a nice meal of this dead dog, if it gets shared out among forty-odd sailors we get barely a mouthful each, dividing our food more than we need is going to screw us over. and then he consolidates this argument by...giving valuable protein to Lame Duck hodge and dividing his food more than he needs. he could have shared neptune's flesh quite easily between himself and tozer and very very little would have changed. literally all hickey achieved in the tent scene is to give himself a nice little power trip of having an officer agree to do what he says and reduces his own food intake substantially for no good reason. machiavelli my arse. what the fuck are you boasting about, hickey? giving away a good meal?

[lovebugism]

Hiii!!!

So I have this idea, i hope you like it: Picnic day with steve and the kids, chaotic but full of fun and love ♡

hi angel! this was a super fun request! i hope you like it!! — the one where steve takes his babysitting gig up to weathertop and you bring peace to the ensuing chaos (fluff, established relationship, 1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The hike to Weathertop is long and merciless. Even though Dustin warned you it would be, Steve complains the entire trek upwards.

“There’s no way we’re not there yet, dude,” the boy whines like a child, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. 

You’re practically dragging him up the relentless mountain now. With every labored stride, full of aching thighs and blades of grass cutting your ankles, you’re pulling a human with you. 

Steve’s hand hasn’t left yours since you pulled off at the side of the road at Kerley, nearly a half hour ago. His long fingers stay curled between yours — sweaty palms, incessant griping, and all.

“For the hundredth time, we’re close, alright?” Dustin gripes between heavy pants. The curly-haired boy leads the group with a duffle bag of supplies in tow. “You know, maybe if you stop complaining, we’d get there faster.”

“Alright. Watch the tone, you little shit,” Steve squints at the back of him.

You grin at the red-faced boy, equally as exerted as you tug on his hand. 

“C’mon. Stevie,” you lilt with your head to your shoulder, blinking at him with pretty eyes that sparkle beneath a yellow sun. “We’re almost there, okay? I can almost see the top of it now.”

You walk ahead of him with the intent to pull him forward. He plants his feet, dirty sneakers rooted in the billowing grass — immovable. You’re not nearly as athletic as he is. None of you are. But he’s eons more dramatic than the lot of you. Stubborn, too.

“I don’t know how you dragged me into this,” Steve deadpans. Though his structured features are fixed in a firm scowl, his chocolate eyes still melt for you.

This was the one day all week he had off from the hellscape that was Starcourt. He’d had it all planned out — breakfast in bed with his girl, a little hike after lunch with his friends, maybe a swim after, and then a movie and dinner (again, with his best girl).

But it’s well into the afternoon now, with no end of the journey in sight. All his plans are ruined and, like a boy, he pouts.

“‘Cause you love me?” you reply with a scrunched nose and an innocent shrug.

Steve only huffs in response. The big, dramatic exhale deflates his chest. He lets you pull him up the hill despite the glower on his face.

He grumbles like a raincloud, “Yeah… Guess so…”

Dustin tells you all about a girl named Suzie he met at summer camp. Something about Utah, Phoebe Cates, and ‘super religious white people.’ It’s hard to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m not Mormon, so her parents would never approve. It’s all a bit… Shakespearean—”

“I don’t wanna alarm anyone, but I think I might have sunstroke,” Robin blurts with wide eyes.

You all still and turn to look at her. Steve scoffs. “Do you even know the signs of sunstroke?”

“Are you hot?” you ask the brunette girl who idles on the other side of Steve.

“Like an oven,” she affirms, freckled face glowing pink. “If you touch me right now, I might actually burn you.”

“Are you dizzy? Or Nauseous?”

“I’ve been debating using this picnic basket as a puke bucket for five whole minutes,” she confesses quickly.

Max leaves Lucas’ side and walks a few steps down the mountain to take the wicker basket from the girl’s grip. Just in case.

“Are you confused?”

“Always,” Robin and Steve answer at the same time.

“Well, shit, Buckley,” you quip with a huff. “You might have sunstroke.”

The boy squeezes your hand and he shoots you a look. “Don’t tell her that. You’ll just freak her out.”

“Too late,” Robin wavers, glassy-eyed gaze gaping and faraway.

“Look!” Dustin exclaims. He’s got a wide grin on his face as he points further up the mountain. “I can see Cerebro now! That means we’re close!”

“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes!” Steve shouts in response.

The curly-haired boy shifts awkwardly under the weight of his glare. “Yeah, but… Now, I mean it.”

And sure, the hike to Weathertop was long and merciless, but the view was worth it. 

It was the highest point in all of Hawkins, according to Dustin’s calculations. You could see the small town vaguely in the distance, though nature consumed you most of all. The tall grass and lush trees surrounding you were virtually untouched by man — well, aside from a couple of teenagers and their satellite, at least.

Steve squints up at the metal structure with his hands on his hips. He looks too much like a dad in his basketball shorts and form-fitting t-shirt.

“Damn,” he huffs. “You guys built all this?”

Dustin grins. “Yep. Impressed?”

“By how nerdy all of you are? Absolutely,” the boy mutters before walking over to you.

You stand at the edge of the hill, your gaze glued to the green spanning miles ahead of you. Everything is tinted a flaxen shade with the sun just starting to set. In the pink sky, everything glimmers golden.

“It’s so pretty up here,” you marvel as Steve’s arms curl around your waist.

He hugs you to him, neverminding the sweat dampening your sticky skin. His face leans against yours. You can feel the scruff dusting along his reddened cheek. 

“Isn’t this sunset, like, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Steve hums with a teasing inflection. “Maybe the second most beautiful thing.”

He’s beaming when you spin in his arms. You meet his wide grin with a playful scowl. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you grouse, though you’re smiling by the time he leans down to kiss you. 

His lips are soft and pink like the sky above you. He tastes like peanuts and chocolate from the trail mix he had earlier. You melt into him effortlessly, too quickly forgetting where you are.

“Don’t be gross!” Robin whines from behind the two of you.

You part from Steve to look over at her. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her features are contorted in discontent.

“I don’t have an escape route up here for that, and I am not walking all the way back down there.”

“Sorry…” you wince as you step out of Steve’s arms.

“Yeah, sorry, Robin,” the boy concedes, just before pulling you back and smacking another kiss to your cheek.

—————

The day goes by in a blink. 

It hardly feels like hours have passed, but the sun has long set over Weathertop now. The sky turns into a deep blue velvet shade and sparkles with twinkling stars.

Dustin hasn’t yet parted from Cerebro. He’s still trying to contact Suzie, but she hasn’t answered him yet. He certainly isn’t disproving the fake girlfriend allegations, but the rest of them gave up teasing him about it long ago.

Instead, you idle in the dewy grass with your heads tilted to the sky. 

Max and Lucas share a blanket with Mike and Will. The latter two boys have long dozed off, full on candy and sandwiches. You and Steve lay across from them on your own quilt. He leans back, propped up on his toned arms as you lounge against his chest. 

Robin sits on the cooler next to Cerebro and tries not to go crazy when Dustin asks, “Suzie, do you copy?” for the millionth time.

“Look! There’s Orion!” you grin as you point to the sky.

Steve follows your finger and squints. “There’s no way you’re actually seeing this shit.”

“Just find Sirius and go a little to the left,” you explain, motioning to the constellation with your hand. “It looks like a person holding a bow and arrow. You literally can’t miss it.”

You tilt your head against the boy’s chest to see his face. His bushy brows pinch together in confusion. “What the hell is a Sirius?” 

“Suzie, do you copy—”

“Oh, my god,” Robin groans. “She’s obviously not there, Dustin.”

“She’s there! She’ll pick up!”

“Maybe Cerebro just doesn’t work,” Steve shrugs.

Lucas counters without missing a beat. “Or maybe Suzie just doesn’t exist.”

“She exists!” Dustin retorts, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“She’s a genius, and she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates?” the boy scoffs with a laugh. “No girl is that perfect.”

“Ooh,” you hear Steve wince from behind you when Max shoots up from her lazed position. You cover your mouth to hide your smile as Lucas sits up with her. He looks a little bit frightened beneath the redhead’s piercing glare.

“Is that so?” Max wonders with an arched brow. She tilts her head to her shoulder and turns to look at you. “Would Steve ever say something that to you?”

“Definitely not,” you answer with a shake of your head.

“Because he’s, like, definitely smarter than that, right?”

You nod. “Absolutely.”

“I mean… You’re perfect! Like, perfect in your own way!” Lucas stammers as he tries to defend himself. “In your own— In your own special way.”

You feel Steve’s laugh rumble in his chest. “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.”

The younger couple squints at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that it’s not about being hotter than Phoebe Cates,” the boy answers with a shrug. 

You lean back against him to watch his face as he explains. He props you and him up with one arm and gestures with the other. “Like, sure, she’s pretty and all, but she’s not real. When you love someone, you love them because they’re not perfect. Not in spite of it, you know?”

“Well, statistically speaking, no one’s perfect,” Dustin chimes in with the radio’s microphone in hand.

Steve scoffs. “That’s not true. Whatever happened to beauty is in the eye of the beholder, huh? Being perfect isn’t about not having flaws or whatever. That’s bullshit. It’s about loving someone and thinking they’re still perfect even if they are loud, and weird, and strange.”

Your chest swells with so much warmth that it starts to ache. Maybe it’s just the lingering sunburn or your adoration for the boy you lay upon. You can feel the burn of it either way. 

A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you squint up at him. You can only see the chiseled edges of his profile from this angle. “Not to be presumptuous or anything, but are you saying that I’m loud and weird and strange?” 

Steve tilts his chin to look down at you. His brown eyes sparkle, full of love and warmth, as he smiles softly down at you. “You are absolutely all of those things, yes.”

You beam up at him, bright like the moonlight bathing the two of you in neon blue. You’ve never felt so loved for all the things you hated about yourself. 

Steve’s got the same dazzling smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you. You quickly find that it’s impossible to lock your mouths together when you’re grinning so wide. It’s just smiles pressed against smiles and noses knocking together for all of half a second.

“Jesus Christ,” Robin grouses in a mumble as she tears the crust off her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She shoves it in her mouth a second later and mumbles through the mouthful. “I’d rather be having sunstroke.”

“Tell me about it,” Dustin scoffs, then turns back to the radio. “Suzie, do you copy?”

He flinches when a balled-up piece of bread comes flying his way.

[brandstifter-sys]

Remus with red glasses. Like something happens and he has to wear them lol. And at first he really likes them and doesn’t mind but one of the others said “Aw, you look so cute in those glasses!” And now he wants to throw them down a mountain

I can see Patton saying that genuinely or Roman saying that to be a little shit (because red). I can also see him throwing the glasses down a mountain and then rolling a giant boulder over them for added measure

I feel like Janus and Virgil would call him an oversized gnat or a bug-eyed freak, respectively

Unfortunately for him, he is always cute... and he needs to see

Janus and Virgil team up to make him a new pair of glasses because he is a menace when he can't see. They're green with tentacle temples/temple tips. Very cute and very Remus. He would love them