#i sometimes wonder if it's like . not good that the two times i feel like a person are 1) at work and 2) when boxing

[dxckgrxsonx]

Between his Teeth

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 2.1k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - Biting Biting BITING!! - Lil mention of choking - Unprotected Sex - Multiple Orgasms - (F) Receiving Oral - Possessive!Jason - Overstimulation - Swearing - Crying - Dirty Talk - Fluff at the End :) Notes: Happy New Year! it’s been awhile since i've posted anything of a decent length so um?? hi?? Not sure how im feeling about the quality of this but inspiration struck and here we are! i hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

**

Here's the thing: there are nights in Gotham where patrol slows down. It's not a regular occurrence, something more akin to an irregularity really–but it happens. And when it does you're faced with an interesting quirk, a personality trait most would consider concerning.

Or dangerous.

Jason Todd gets bored.

His baseline as standard is marked unnatural. The death of a child recognised and reversed. Murdered soul poured back into what feels like a brand new unmarked body–everything once recognizable to him lost by a pool of Lazarus green. A pool on some nights he can still taste like bile in the back of his throat.

Patrol slows down and Jason finds himself molar deep in something terrifyingly restless.

Sometimes, the fight never materialises and Jason, who's been fighting across two different lifetimes, doesn't quite know how to react in the face of it. There's always been a cathartic edge to combat, a catch and release that leaves him breathless and exhilarated all at once. Adrenaline is one hell of a defence mechanism, swells right up to the top of his head, and if there's no decompression at the end of it his skin buzzes, eyes glowing bright and haloed in Lazarus green.

And so when patrol gets slow, Jason seeks out the brilliance of release by fucking you absolutely stupid.

**

He’s got two stupidly talented hands and they’re touching you everywhere.

The base of your spine, the shivering curve of your waist, two fingers hooked into your smart mouth to wrench every little sound out of your chest. His cock is thick and heavy and every thrust into your spasming cunt burns like he’s tearing you open.

“Fucking Christ–” A heaving, half delirious whine vibrates against his fingers like a phantom echo of your voice and Jason grins when your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He grins because taking you to pieces like this is the absolute best, most unbelievably satisfying way to burn through the frightening magnitude of energy stirring in his veins. “Ugh shit! Are you coming again? You greedy little thing.”

He can feel you squeezing at his cock, your pussy clenched up so tight it’s almost like fucking his own goddamn fist.

Jason pulls his fingers from your mouth–the digits now dripping in spit–and curls them oh so sweetly around your throat. He tightens his grip, forces you to work for your breath and the drag of air under his palm forces blood to swell up to Jason's head.

He watches you carefully, catalogues the curve of your mouth, the way your eyes roll into the back of your skull, the bliss and trust you tuck under his skin.

Fingers flex tighter and your mouth moves but instead of words, he gets a low, drawn out moan.

“Of course you are. You just can’t help it, can you?” He pulls his hand up and away from your throat, grabs firmly at your chin, and you jolt like a live wire, eyelids fluttering, thighs shaking horribly around his hips. Pressing forwards, Jason grunts at how wet you are, the base of his cock ringed in your creamy arousal. “You can take it though. You will take it. Just for me, because you’re such a good girl.”

A broken noise drags up your throat and Jason gets the flaring urge to have something–fucking anything–between his teeth.

It's not the first time he's looked at you and clamped his jaw around the desire to mark you. The possessive flicker igniting something of near biblical proportion in his veins. You're something wonderful. A person he adores beyond measure.

There's times you look at him like he's everything and it makes him feel brand new, born into a universe where home is nothing but you and your two hands that have never once hurt him.

He thinks the urge comes from that, comes from the desperation of wanting to broadcast you as his, of never wanting to be apart.

Your head tips back, throat bare, and Jason doesn’t hesitate–not even for one single second–a feral sort of thing bubbling up from the bottom of his spine.

He bites you.

He bites you so hard your vision collapses in on itself, existence bursting into a kaleidoscope of colour.

Jason sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin above your pulse point and you choke as if he’s slipped a knife underneath your rib to steal your breath. You choke and you clench up so tight around his cock he can’t fucking move.

Your knees draw up in a desperate attempt to wedge between you, back arching into the bed. You twist your hips against his weight and you grab at his shoulders, his hair, nails scratching a long line down his back, but Jason simply renders you immobile, reminds you he’s buried balls deep in your pussy and has no intention of being anywhere else.

It’s not quite pain, but it’s a blunt sort of thing at the very edge of the scale and blood rushes up under your skin to greet each indent left behind. The sting of it detonates something permanent in your psyche, life unmoored between his teeth.

Jason pulls back and he licks at his teeth, there’s no blood, but the action alone makes you swelter nonetheless. You think it might be the look on his face, the flicker of something promising devastation in his eyes.

“Fuck you.” It’s your own voice, breathless, trapped between aggravation and arousal. “How am I supposed to cover that up?”

Jason drags his fingers down to your cunt and rubs at your fat, swollen clit. Every thought fractures apart in your mouth, vowels and consonants splintering into pieces that dissolve on your tongue. You know that’s what he wanted. You don’t care.

“You’re mine.” Jason says, like that in itself is an explanation. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

The bite mark on your throat looks brutal even to his own eyes. A perfect match to every tooth in his mouth. Your skin is starting to puff up a little, irritation blossoming into a wicked bruise. Jason hums–mostly to himself–and fucks into you hard enough that there’s an obscene squelch of your pussy every time he bottoms out.

You’re perfect. You’re his. He wants you to come again.

“I can’t. Ah fuck! Not again–” The pitch of your voice climbs when his pace fails to falter, sticky fingers still strumming at your clit. He can feel it throbbing despite you coming twice already, and he wonders how many he can get out of you this time. “Jason–I don’t think…I can’t.”

“That’s it, empty that pretty little head of yours. You don’t need to think, y’just need to keep squeezing that sweet cunt around my cock, yeah? You’re so wet for me, and you know what that means?”

A sobs works free from your mouth, thighs clenching tight around his strong hips, each thrust into your peach flesh cunt makes Jason feel like he’s bursting out of his own skin. You close your eyes in the face of pure, overwhelming pleasure and he can see how wet your lashes are.

“Ugh–no don’t–” A whimper hooks into the back of your throat. “Don’t fucking say it.”

Jason grins, half wicked, even though he knows you can’t see it, “It means you like this, little bird. You might complain and try to get away, but your pretty little pussy can’t lie to me.” Your face screws up. Jason fucks you harder, his thick thighs smacking against your ass. He pauses his movements on your clit and listens to the pitch of your whine wobble in disappointment. “You want to come again, don’t you? Hm. No. You need to come again.”

“Nooo.” You try, embarrassment flustering up your neck. “I can’t. Please. S’too much.”

Your eyes blink open and Jason thinks it’s so sweet when you’re on the verge of tears whilst he’s fucking you. Your hands reach out to grab his shoulders, to search for comfort, and you cry out his name when he touches your poor, oversensitive clit. Jason licks at the mark on your throat, his tongue catching against the swell of your near broken skin and your cunt tries to force him out.

"Let me fuck your pussy, sweetheart. Don't push me out like that."

Another desperate cry when he forces your pussy to yield to his powerful thrusts and you suddenly gush around his cock. Wetness soaks his thighs and Jason huffs in amusement when he hears you heave in a strangled breath, then sob, tears streaming down your face.

You’ve never done that before.

By the time he’s finished–by the time he’s worked through the insistent pulse of pure restlessness and settled back into what he considers a post patrol, or postcoital haze–he thinks he’ll make you do that once more at least.

**

Jason quietly appears behind you the next afternoon as you glance in the mirror, gentle fingers probing at the huge mark splattered on your neck.

His approach is eclipsed by silence and you’re struck with the awe of how quiet he can be when he wants to. The talent and skill that must go into knowing how to plant yourself so no sound escapes your trajectory, it’s staggering, and slightly alarming.

You can easily trace the outline of Jason’s bite and there’s a heavy sort of discomfort when you touch it; the sensation of pressing on a bruise in the early stages of healing, not painful but heavy and aching, impossible to ignore.

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches upwards when your face flickers into a slight flinch, almost like he wants to smile in a self-satisfied sort of way–how typical of him to find satisfaction in something that has you labelled as owned (loved) but you meet his reflection in the mirror and settle on a half-hearted scowl.

“You’re a real dick, Todd. You know that?”

Tugging the neckline of your hoodie up, you just barely manage to cover the mark.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re not wearing pants.” Jason points out, redirecting the conversation by eyeing you appreciatively. “And I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

Memory sparks-your own desperate, fucked out voice flaring to the forefront-and you feel heat splash up your throat.

Ducking your head to avoid Jason's stare seems like a good idea, but you know with absolute certainty that he'll request you look at him regardless–he might even press a finger under your chin to tilt your head up–all because he wants to watch you fumble over your words like an idiot.

“Yeah, uh–that’s because you fucked me stupid.” He grins wolfishly at that, then his eyes flash with either an idea, or interest. Both of which are dangerous. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…don’t.”

Smoothing his hands from your waist, down to your hips, then the curve of your ass, Jason drops to his knees behind you. Your stomach swoops, the beat of your heart slipping temporarily out of rhythm. He hums thoughtfully and presses a kiss to the small of your back, then tugs your underwear to the side so one cheek is bare.

Confusion kicks up in your head, brain following one thread whilst Jason in typical fashion follows his own, “You've already eaten me out at least once today, for the love of fuck give me a break. Aren't you tired of eating me out?”

Jason positively growls.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." He grumbles, his tone nothing but a hard edge. "I'll never get tired of tasting your pretty cunt."

You figured that out already. Waking with his head between your thighs, talented tongue lapping at your swelling clit until you sigh his name so prettily, falling apart as he holds you open by sheer force. Reminded again when you settle down for lunch in the kitchen and Jason sits you on the counter so he can nose at your slit, mouth wrapping around your sensitive clit and sucking until you cry.

Sometimes he might as well be dating your pussy and not you.

You feel the warmth of his breath for a single, shining moment, "Then what the hell are you doin–"

He bites you.

On your goddamn ass cheek.

“There. Now you can’t complain because the only person who’s going to see that is me.”

Spinning around in retaliation you glance down and level Jason with a glaringly unimpressed look, “Yeah, congratulations. But you’ve failed to consider one very important thing.”

“No I haven't." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What else is there to consider?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sit down?”

**

[moralesluvr]

FABLE AND TRUTH 3 | billie eilish

୧ ‧₊˚ love was the law & religion was taught…. ↳ summary: you had always been raised on being poise, feminine, classy. but what was most important to your family was your religion— and it had embroidered itself into your daily life. but when it’s time to pick between feelings and faith, which will you choose? pairings & aus. billie eilish x fem!reader warnings. religious backgrounds & guilt | mature language | sexual content | substance use author's note. WOOO CHAP 3 IS HERE wc. 8.1k

✧ 11:33 am, tuesday ✧

when you wake up, you’ve got a headache, and not the kind that derives from alcohol. 

you stretch out your limbs, head pounding as you reach over to look at your clock, and you almost scream at how late it is. although you don’t have classes on tuesdays, you had missed your morning Bible study, which made you slip out a groan, grabbing your phone and checking your notifications. 

a bunch of pictures were piled into the shared photo album between you and your friends, the group chat was blowing up with texts, and you had three missed calls from one of your friends from Bible study, loretta. 

you sighed, placing your phone into the cushions of your bed as the door to your dorm swung open, emma’s sleepy frame coming into view as she rubbed her eyes. she’d swapped her party outfit for oversized sweats and a hoodie, her hair a messy bun of waves and curls as she let out a thick yawn. 

“morning. everything alright?” she mumbled, voice laced with fatigue as she slumped into the doorframe of your bedroom. you sat up, the covers above you shuffling as you cuddled into a pillow, sighing. 

“good morning. and yeah— i’m fine, i just slept in too late. missed my Bible study.”

emma’s face warmed up, and she padded over to sit at the edge of your bed. although emma could be loud and rowdy sometimes, she was always there for you when you needed it, and she always knew when to soften up. she scoots closer to you, “you feeling okay, love? you seemed… tense as shit last night.”

before you could answer her question, there was a loud knock echoing from the door, followed by naomi’s unmistakable, recognizable voice. you really longed to be alone right now, but you sit up straighter underneath your bedsheets, prepared for whatever shenanigans she has to offer. 

“open up!” she sing-songed dramatically, and you honestly wondered how she could be so hyper after the night you shared previously, “we brought coffee!”

that makes you want to be alone a little less. 

you start to get up, but emma shuffles to the door, pulling it open to reveal naomi, jules, and oliver standing in the hallway. naomi held a tray of iced coffees while jules had her tote bag slung over one shoulder, her sunglasses perched on her head like she was ready to model at any moment, though you can tell she hasn’t been out by the way she’s clad in slippers and sweats, which she would never step foot outside in. oliver stood between the two girls, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, grinning lazily.

“we figured you wouldn’t come out today, knowing you— so we came right to you instead.” naomi giggled, handing you an iced coffee as she waltzed into the room. she plopped onto your bed, careful not to splash any of her drink, “yeah, i know, we’re great friends like that.”

the four of them made themselves comfortable very quickly, naomi got up and plopped onto your desk chair, jules claimed the cushiony, lilac colored beanbag in the corner, and oliver flopped onto the huge rug by your bed. emma returned to her perch on the mattress.

“so… how are you feeling?” jules starts off, pulling out a makeup mirror from her tote, brushing a freshly manicured nail through her lash extensions. she looks at you when you don’t respond instantly, and you let off a shrug, your voice hallow and quiet. 

“i feel alright.” you muttered, sipping at your coffee, though no one believes your lie. you wouldn’t necessitate consider it one— you did feel alright, but you definitely have felt better. 

the encounter with billie was still on instant replay in your mind. all the way from the party to your awkward conversation at the diner, it felt like it all happened literally five minutes ago. you couldn’t get her face out of your head, what she said to you before she left, how she somehow knew your name and you hadn’t even told her it. she was attentive, such a great listener— and you were one back. but now things were tense, and they were driving you nuts, and all you wanted to do was to sink further into your mattress until it swallowed you whole. 

“oh, come on,” naomi drags out with a smirk, “don’t think we didn’t notice how fast you bolted out of that damn diner last night.”

oliver sits up in confusion, “you went to the diner without me? you assholes.”

“yeah right.” emma offers up a scoff, “why weren’t you there? oh, my bad, you were too busy getting dicked down!” 

you wave a hand at the two as they start to banter, “okay, okay, please. not today.” 

they all go quiet, murmuring apologies at you as you felt your headache growing stronger. by this time, you would’ve already had breakfast and your morning coffee, probably on a run or shopping with emma. but instead, you were laying in your bed idle, having a needed albeit unpleasant conversation with your best friends. 

jules snickered at you, closing her mirror and shoving it into her bag, “so, billie? ring any bells?”

“guys,” you groaned, setting your coffee on the nightstand, ready to defend yourself. “come on, it wasn’t like that.”

“really?” naomi teased, tilting her head. “because it sure looked like it. i mean— you may not swing that way, but you were ready to switch teams for that girl.” 

oliver grinned. “never seen you that flustered, y/n. kind of refreshing, honestly.”

“what the heck?” you deadpanned, glaring at him. “you literally weren’t even there.”

“pictures were sent, what can i say?”  naomi giggled, but you didn’t laugh with her. you were starting to become a little irritated at the whole thing. it was already bad enough you started your morning off on the wrong foot, and this impromptu interrogation session wasn’t helping you feel even the slightest bit better. “billie was clearly into you. and you didn’t exactly shut her down.”

you sighed, running a hand over your face. you really want to tell them to leave, but you weren’t that type of girl. they were annoying at times, but they were your friends— almost like siblings. and this is what they do, so you couldn’t complain. “for the last time, she was drunk. it didn’t mean anything, so drop it.” 

emma, who’d been quietly observing the entire exchange, finally spoke up at the three, “okay y’all, leave her alone. she’s clearly not in the mood for this.”

you shot her a grateful look, and she shrugged as if it were her way of saying ‘you’re welcome.’ the group grumbles but they ultimately understand, so they all collectively promise that they’d drop it once and for all, trying their best not to make you upset even further. 

the conversation eventually switched to oliver’s little one night stand that took place last night, and you pretend to listen as best as you can, but your efforts are failed. you can’t think straight— last night’s events are gnawing at you, and it makes your skin crawl when you let yourself think about billie. she’s undeniably gorgeous, and the kind of interesting that makes you want to know her thoughts about everything, how she feels, how she thinks. her demeanor is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and much differentiated from how yours is. she’s bold, and it’s obvious that she isn’t swayed easily. 

you try to convince yourself that it’s just a deep interest in her, and nothing more. a longing to be her friend— to understand someone that’s much different than you, to catch a glimpse at a different perspective. but it’s not normal how you stare at her longer than you should, or how your skin tingles every time someone even mentions her name. 

but it’s wrong. she’s a girl, and you’re a girl, and it’s obvious that those kind of feelings aren’t even to be uttered out loud about. so you shake your shoulders in an attempt to shake your thoughts too, but they linger. they stay. 

you pinch at your skin until it aches, saying a quick prayer to steady yourself. you needed to get out of your dorm, otherwise your thoughts would swallow you whole. and everyone seemed to pick up on that when you hear bags shuffling and shoes being put on, and you open your eyes to see everyone packing their things up, ready to leave. 

but you needed this. and more than anything, all of this made you question yourself. your faith. your path. you’d always believed in staying true to what you’d been taught, to what you felt in your heart was right. but lately, everything seemed so much more complicated.

“hey, you okay?” emma’s voice broke through your reverie, and you realized the room had gone quiet. everyone was standing up now, and everyone was looking at you.

“yeah,” you said quickly, trying to sound convincing, “i’m honestly just tired.”

emma frowned at you but she didn’t press further, and soon enough, your friends were saying their goodbyes, eventually filing out the door. but emma stayed behind, lingering in the doorway.

“seriously, you good?” she asked you with a pleading tone, “you don’t have to lie to me. it’s okay.” 

you want to take refuge in emma. you want to express to her how confused you feel, how badly your mind is swirling, how foreign and unpleasant these feelings were to you. but you just nod anyways, offering up a small smile, “i’m okay, really, em. just need some time to myself.”

emma didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, closing the door softly behind her as she bid you farewell. 

once you were alone, you sat on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. your phone buzzed beside you, and you picked it up to see another text from loretta, asking if you were okay. guilt twisted in your stomach as you typed out a quick response, apologizing for missing Bible study and promising to see her as soon as you could. 

and soon came faster than you expected. less than an hour later, you found yourself walking into the small classroom where your Bible study group met, clutching your journal and Bible like a lifeline. loretta was already there, along with a few others, her warm smile lighting up the room as she waved you over.

“we really missed you this morning.” she said, her tone kind but tinged with curiosity. loretta won’t ever pry, but she always speaks in a way that could make someone spill all their darkest secrets to her. but it’s familiar to you, so you press your belongings further into your chest, shrugging at her lightly. 

“i’m so sorry, etta,” you speak, your voice nothing but a whisper, taking a seat beside her at a lone table next to the window that bleeds golden rays of sunlight. you thank the Lord for that, instantly boosting your mood a little. “i just had such rough night. i didn’t wake up in time.”

loretta studied you for a moment, her eyes soft with understanding. she doesn’t push, she just sets a hand above your own, “you want to talk about it?”

“not really,” you admitted, looking down at your hands. you drew them back, and loretta passes you a confused grin as you set them in your lap. you feel bad, but you can’t be bothered with the intimacy right now. “just a lot on my mind.”

she nodded, not pushing any further, and then the study began. there were always multiple a day on tuesdays, but you preferred to catch the morning ones because they always made your day better, and plus— you had the rest of it to spend as you pleased. but today you had strolled in at the one p.m, and something felt…off. 

you try to push it away, excusing it for your late awakening. but as the discussion moved through the week’s passage, you found it hard to focus. your mind kept wandering, questions swirling in your head left and right. you scribbled notes in the margins of your journal, but none of it felt real, none of it felt connected. you felt… lost.

“i just can’t focus today,” you mutter to yourself, tapping your pen lightly against your journal, your mind wandering among other things. the passage of the day is from the book of james— chapter one, verses five through eight. it’s a familiar one: if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. but let him ask in faith, with no doubting…

the words drift in and out of your mind, brushing up against the edges of your thoughts but never quite sticking in. the leader of the study, a soft-spoken senior named marcus, begins breaking it down, his voice steady and sure. “james is talking about faith that doesn’t waver, even in uncertainty,” he says. “it’s about trusting that God’s wisdom will come in His timing, even when we don’t have all the answers. does anyone have any thoughts to add to that?” 

your pen pauses mid-tap, and you feel a lump forming in your throat. the room is quiet as everyone listens, but you’re anything but. your heart is racing, and your thoughts are louder than ever, and it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. you’re usually so attentive, so focused— but everything felt blurry now, and you honestly just wanted to leave. 

you felt almost guilty for even thinking that, but feelings weren’t sinful. it was true and raw, and although it made you feel a little sick, it was honest. 

you think about what marcus said, trying to force yourself back on track. 

faith without doubting. faith in His timing. it feels personal, like the words are aimed straight at you, piercing through the fog of everything you’ve been trying to suppress. but you don’t speak up, you just keep tapping your pen against the blank pages of your journal, waiting until someone else breaks the silence. 

and it finally happens. 

“but what does that look like in practice?” someone asks. it’s a girl you’ve seen around but don’t know well—melanie, maybe? you weren’t sure. 

 “how do we trust when things feel… messy?”

marcus smiles gently at her, flipping back a page to quote scripture. “well, morgan, it’s not easy.” 

so, not melanie. you snort quietly. 

“…but it starts with honesty—with bringing all of your doubts and messiness to God. He can handle it. the act of faith isn’t about being perfect; it’s about surrendering even when it’s hard.”

you glance down at your journal, your new scribbled notes blurring together. you write the word “surrender” in the margin, circling it harshly, but the idea feels heavy, almost suffocating.

marcus moves on to another topic out of genesis, but you’re stuck on the first lesson, that first word.  surrender. what does it even mean, really? how are you supposed to surrender when your thoughts and feelings are so tangled, when you can’t even untangle them long enough to pray properly?

your chest tightens as the conversation continues around you, voices rising and falling like waves, but you’re drowning beneath them. the guilt from the night before, the confusion about billie, the shame of missing this morning’s study —it all feels like too much.

you can’t sit here anymore.

closing your journal quietly, you slide it into your bag and stand, keeping your head low as you make your way to the door. a few people glance up, but no one stops you. no one except loretta.

“y/n?” she calls softly, her voice filled with concern, but your feet betray you. you keep moving towards the door, your bag shuffling against your jeans as you walk faster. 

but then you pause, hand on the doorknob, and shake your head. “i’ll be back,” you say, though even you aren’t sure if you really mean it. you haven’t a clue when you’d be back. 

you step out into the hallway, the cool air hitting you like a wave of relief. but it doesn’t stop the tightness in your chest, the way your hands tremble as you lean against the wall. you take a deep breath, then another, but it doesn’t help.

the door creaks open behind you, and you know it’s loretta before she even speaks.

“okay honey, what’s going on?” she asks, her tone soft but insistent.

you shake your head again, trying your best to avoid her gaze. “nothing. i just… needed some air.”

“y/n,” she says, stepping closer. “this isn’t nothing. talk to me.”

the sincerity in her voice almost breaks you. you glance at her, and the concern in her eyes feels like a mirror, reflecting all the things you’ve been trying to hide. you feel like she can see right through your excuses— she’s got that kind of anointing on her, and you sigh, almost accepting your defeat. 

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “i just feel… off. like i’m failing. at everything.”

loretta frowns, leaning against the wall beside you. she speaks gently, “now why would you think that?”

you swallow hard, the words clawing their way out of your throat, scratchy and forced, “because i can’t focus. because i missed the morning study. because i keep getting caught up in… things that don’t even matter.”

“things like what?”

you hesitate, the memory of billie’s words flashing through your mind. something good, she’d said. but what if she was wrong? what if there wasn’t anything good about you?

“just… distractions and stuff,” you say finally, wrapping your arms around yourself. you weren’t telling the whole truth, but details didn’t really matter now. loretta can tell that you’re hiding something, but she doesn’t ask. she just wants you to be raw. 

“things that make me feel like i’m not good enough. like i’m not who i’m supposed to be.”

loretta is quiet for a moment, and when she speaks, her voice is gentle. “y/n, you’re not supposed to have it all figured out. none of us are. that’s why we’re here, why we study and pray and try to grow. it’s not about being perfect; it’s about seeking Him, even in the mess.”

her words hit you like a balm, soothing but not erasing the ache. “but what if i can’t?” you ask, your voice breaking. “what if i keep messing up?”

“then you just keep trying,” she says simply. “God’s grace isn’t a one-time thing. it’s new every morning, remember? His love doesn’t depend on you getting it right. it’s just… there. always.”

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in. it’s not a magic fix, but it’s something to offer.

“thanks,” you say quietly, finally meeting her gaze.

she smiles, her hand brushing your shoulder lightly. “anytime. and, y/n? you’re not failing. you’re just human. whatever it is, it doesn’t change you as a person. you’re still you.” 

that soothes you, and you smile at loretta, “thanks. i’m going to study, but…i’ll keep your words in mind.” 

she offers you a sweet smile, waving as she watches you walk away, disappearing into the warm sun. 

✧ 5:45 pm ✧

by the evening, you found yourself wandering the campus library, hoping the quiet would help clear your mind. the big windows of the building let in wispy, warm air, the sunset painting golden streaks across the few students who sat scattered at tables, their heads bent over books and their headphones above their ears. 

the familiar scent of aged paper and polished wood grounded you, offering a comfort nothing else but loretta’s pep talk had managed to provide all day. your steps were slow, almost aimless, as you trailed your fingers along the spines of all kinds of books, the cool texture grounding you further. eventually, you stopped in the music section, though you weren’t sure why.

maybe it was curiosity. or maybe it was that same uneasy pull you’d felt since the party, a pull to the music that blasted through the speakers, but especially to the music sung live— raw and unpolished— literally right in front of you.

her music.

you flipped through a biography of some lesser-known jazz singer, your fingers lingering on the edges of the pages, when a familiar, confident voice broke the stillness.

“huh. figured i’d find you in the nerd section.”

you jumped, nearly dropping the book in your hands as your heart raced. of course, it was billie— her voice too distinct and her teasing known by you all too well. you swallow thickly, spinning around on your heel where you found billie standing a few feet away, her hands shoved in the pockets of her extremely oversized jacket. the same smug smirk you’d come to associate with only her tugged at her lips, her ocean blue eyes sparkling. 

“oh,” you spoke out of obvious surprise, “hi, billie. w-what are you doing here?”

“nice to see you too, princess,” she giggled, “i’m here to read. y’know, that’s what people usually do at libraries.” 

“w-wait…you go to…yale university?” you questioned, cocking your head to the side. she didn’t seem like the type to even be interested in what your college had to offer, and no major seemed like one that you’d expect her to be endorsed in. 

she grinned stupidly at your confusion, her eyes narrowing with mischief, and it was obvious that she took pride in pestering you, “what, you think i just wander onto campuses for fun? as much as i find that dope, no— i do go here.” 

“i mean… it seems like it’d be your style,” you admitted, your words hesitant as you tried to say that as less offensively as you could. billie really didn’t seem like the type to be drawn to yale’s particular offerings, and you couldn’t picture her fitting into any of the usual cliques or anything you associated with your school. you set your book down on the table forgetfully, now engrossed in this conversation with billie, “what are you even studying?”

“music theory.” she said simply.

your eyebrows shot up, the revelation catching you completely off guard. you hold a hand up, “wait— hold on, seriously?”

billie rolled her eyes, but her grin stayed in place. “yes, seriously. what, you think just because i can sing, i don’t care about the technical stuff? that’s the best part.” she gestured dramatically toward the shelves around her, stuffed to the brim books on everything from classical composition to modern sound design, none of which you really knew about— it was so much different from your major of law. 

“no, it’s not that, i just…” you trailed off, feeling a little sheepish under her knowing gaze. it was embarrassing how quick you judged her, and you felt instant regret wash over you. “i guess i just didn’t expect you to major in something like that, i thought singing was just a hobby of yours. i’m so sorry.” 

“don’t worry about it, sunday school.” billie snickers, leaning against a table, “but yeah, honestly, people tend to underestimate me. not that i really give a shit. it makes moments like this way more fun.”

you frowned, clarifying your intentions, “i’m not underestimating you. i just—”

“—just didn’t peg me for a nerd?” billie finished your sentence for you, raising an eyebrow.

“i didn’t say that!”

she laughed, the sound light and unbothered. she slips past you to reach for a book above your head, her shoulder bumping into yours, and the light and quick moment of contact makes you shiver, “you didn’t have to. but don’t worry, princess, i’m not offended—” her sentence stops as billie stood back on her heels, waving a foreign book in front of your face excitedly, “this book’s so fucking good, i’ve read it like a hundred times. it’s fantasy, but it’s still a banger. alright, so basically…”

and then she babbles on. something about how a dude’s got the most insane case of synesthesia, which she also has, and that’s why she likes the book so much. “—he can literally see music notes as they’re being played. and they like, make a path or some shit…that part’s blurry— but anyway, he meets his wife from it and it’s so dope. and they make music together and have little musical intelligent babies and like, oh my god, it’s been my favorite ever since i picked it up.” 

you felt your cheeks heat up, the warmth blossoming against your skin, and you turned slightly, pretending to scan the titles on the nearest shelf to avoid eye contact. you hum to let her know that you were listening, but if you looked at her for any longer, you’d throw up. 

it was almost inhuman, how effortlessly beautiful she looked—her excitement lighting up her face in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else. you’d never seen her this talkative before, and while it was a stark contrast to the teasing, smug demeanor you were used to, it didn’t bother you. in fact, it was a welcome distraction from the awkwardness of monday night.

“you should read it.” she said suddenly, thrusting the book toward you with a light toss. 

you blinked harshly, glancing down at the cover. it was worn from use, the edges frayed and the spine creased, and you could get that all those little flaws were because she’s probably checked out the book a million times. “me? read this?” you asked, a little hesitant, “i honestly don’t know if it’s my thing. i’m not good at the whole….music thing.” 

billie rolled her eyes, though her unbreakable smile a dead give away that she was only playing, “ugh, don’t be like that. trust me, it’s good. and if you hate it, you can yell at me later. i won’t be offended.” 

you laughed softly, taking the book from her hands. her fingers brushed against yours briefly, and you tried not to think about how warm they felt, how her rings were a cool contrast to her fiery skin, how it made you feel so much calmer, although it was only an accident. you stifle a cough, “fine,” you said, flipping it over to read the back cover. “but if it’s terrible, you owe me coffee for the inconvenience.”

“deal,” she said with a wink, stepping back to lean casually against the nearest shelf. “but, spoiler alert, you’re gonna love it. it has all the nerdy shit you like.” 

you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself, “yeah, alright, we’ll see.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of her presence lingering in the air as you pretended to read the book summary. in truth, you were hyperaware of her gaze, of the way she seemed completely at ease while you felt like a bundle of nerves. she was staring at you, taking in your features, her eyes moving rapidly— she wasn’t wasting anytime. she was fixated on you. 

“so,” she said finally, breaking the silence, looking across the various, neat stacks of books, “what’s got you so wound up today? you seem off.”

you hesitated, debating whether to brush her off or actually answer. but something about the way she looked at you—curious but not pushing too hard—made you feel like maybe it was okay to share. you felt comfortable. 

“just… a lot on my mind,” you admitted, keeping your eyes on the book in your hands.

“like?”

you sighed, finally looking up to meet eyes with her, “it’s nothing, really. just school, life… trying to figure out what i’m doing with myself. stuff about me.”

billie tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “well, join the club, sunday school. i don’t think anyone really knows what they’re doing. we’re all just kinda winging it, to be honest. this life shit isn’t easy.” 

you couldn’t help but smile at that, her words oddly comforting, though it isn’t exactly something you’d ever say. “yeah, maybe.”

there’s silence for a second. and then billie speaks up again, tossing a section of hair to the side of her shoulders, toying with the ends. she twirls them around a black-manicured nail, and she seems more serious now. 

“do you, um…” she mumbles, and you raise an eyebrow at her, coaxing her to finish her sentence, “—get coffee?” do you wanna go? with me?” 

you almost laugh at how choppy her sentence is. you know that you shouldn’t go, it was already bad enough that the two of you were conversing so much— but you obliged anyways. she was just a friend, don’t friends hang out? 

“sure.” you give her a warm smile, “why not?”

she nods, “alright. cool.”

as you both stepped out of the library, the cool evening air wrapped around you, the sky fading into deeper shades of orange and purple. the colors bled together beautifully, and it made you smile at what a wonderful creation it was. billie walked beside you, her usual swagger a little muted. the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a noticeable shift in her energy.

“hey,” billie started, her voice softer than usual. you glanced at her, surprised by the change in tone as you both kept walking down campus. her hands were stuffed into her jacket pockets, and her gaze was fixed on the ground ahead, not even bothering to look at you. she seemed shameful. “about the other night at the diner… i just— i need to say that i’m really fucking sorry.”

you stopped in your tracks, turning to face her fully. her expression was uncharacteristically serious, the usual teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something more vulnerable. it was extremely unexpected, and you kind of wish she hadn’t said anything at all— because now you had to discuss it. 

“you’re… apologizing?” you asked, not meaning to sound so incredulous, but you couldn’t help it. it was just so out of the blue, and you assumed she was one of those people who’d chat with you after something happens to compensate for what she did wrong. 

“yeah,” she said, her lips twitching into a faint, self-deprecating smile, “look, i know i was a jerk. i pushed too hard, and i made you uncomfortable. i was drunk as shit, but that still wasn’t cool of me. not an excuse. so… i’m sorry.”

you blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. it was rare to see this side of her, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. “thank you,” you said finally, your voice soft. “i appreciate that.”

you two laughed, the tension between you dissolving as the two of you headed toward a nearby café. it was cute— white with pink accents, and it was definitely right up your alley. you were surprised you had never heard of it, and you made a mental note to come here in the mornings for your alone Bible studies. 

billie opened the door for you, ushering her hand in front of you with a grand gesture, “m’lady.” 

you feel yourself shrivel at her words. it was a joke— you shouldn’t be so stuck up about it, and you aren’t even sure why her saying that would make you feel…off. it would’ve been totally different if one of your girls said it, and that’s what bothers you. what was so different about you and billie’s friendship? why did it bother you so much? 

you stepped inside the restaurant, trying to play off how nervous you are. the café is cozy and warm, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air as you slid into a booth across from billie. she handed you a menu, though you both already knew you’d order something simple. it was nearly seven now, and coffee at night usually wasn’t your thing— so you settled on ordering decaf. 

“so,” billie spoke, resting her chin on her hand as she watched you skim the menu. “what’s your go-to?”

“just a latte,” you said, setting the menu down. you rest your head on your hands, “well— not today. it’s too late for all that caffeine, so i think i’ll go with decaf. what about you?”

“black coffee,” she said with a shrug. she flips to the back of the menu, her movements smooth, “i like it bitter. keeps me sharp.”

you raised an eyebrow, unable to resist teasing her. you felt slightly more comfortable after her apology, like you really could be friends. you try joking around with her instead of her initiating the teasing while you try not to pass out. “yeah, bitter suits you.”

she laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. it makes you feel good that you could make her feel the same way she made you feel. “touché, princess. touché.”

when the drinks finally arrived, billie slid yours across the table to you, her fingers brushing against yours briefly as she passed you a straw. you ignored the spark of warmth that shot through you, focusing instead on the beautiful and intricate foam art in your cup.

“so,” billie started after a few moments of quiet, her tone casual but curious. she takes a sip of her coffee first before speaking again, and it’s astonishing how she doesn’t react at the taste of her bitter coffee. “why yale? what made you pick it?”

you took a sip of your latte, thinking about your answer. “it just felt right,” you said after a moment. “the programs, the campus, the challenge. it just… felt like where i was supposed to be. i wanted to be successful, and this seemed like the place to do it.” 

billie nodded, her blue eyes glossed with thoughtfulness, attentiveness, like she didn’t want to miss anything you could have to say. “that’s cool. i get that.”

“what about you?” you asked her, leaning forward slightly, trying to keep the conversation at an easy flow, “you said you like the library. is music the only thing you have interest in?”

she grinned, a hint of her usual playfulness returning. she sets her cup of coffee down, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

you rolled your eyes, but your curiosity was piqued, “well, yeah— that’s why i asked.”

“fine, fine,” she said, holding up her hands in mock defeat. “just joking with you. but i fuck with art a lot. i’m drawing constantly, and it’s a major reason why half the songs i’ve written are even written. music is just what i love the most, and i’d be a much better musician than an artist. i’m no picasso.” 

your eyebrows shot up in surprise, your head boding eagerly, “really? i didn’t know you were into art like that.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me, princess,” she said with a smirk. but then her expression softened. “music’s… it’s my thing. it’s how i make sense of the world, y’know? it’s kind of like my therapy. but art is like that, too. both go hand in hand.” 

you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. you finish off your coffee, sipping until only ice remains. “that’s… really cool, billie. i think it’s amazing that you’re so passionate about it.”

she looked at you for a moment, her gaze steady and warm. “thanks,” she said softly.

the conversation flowed easily after that, the two of you sharing bits and pieces of your lives over coffee. by the time both of your cups were empty, you felt like you understood her a little better— and maybe, she wasn’t as intimidating as she seemed. 

you both finished up, as you stood to leave, billie pulled out her phone, handing it to you with a small grin. “here,” she pressed her phone into your hands, “put your number in. in case you hate the book and need to yell at me about it, of course.” 

you really didn’t know if this was the best idea. it was back and forth— somethings felt alright, but this felt like too much. 

but you can’t keep withdrawing yourself just because of how you feel. it’d be different if the both of you were feeling off, but you just felt like you were making things weird now. so you laughed, taking the phone and quickly typing in your number. “or, you know, if i actually like it,” you said, handing it back to her.

“yeah,” she said, her grin softening into something more genuine, “that too.”

you nodded at her, the both of you treading out of the coffee shop before splitting off onto your separate ways. you fished out your phone from your bag and put your headphones in, your music loud, but your thoughts seemingly louder. 

as you walked back to your dorm, the quiet night air pressed softly against your skin. the faint hum of streetlights buzzed above you, casting pools of golden light along the sidewalk, swallowing the shadow of your footsteps. you held your phone tightly in your hand, replaying the evening’s events over and over in your head.

billie’s apology had surprised you. it wasn’t just the words—though those had been unexpected, too—but the way she’d said them. there was no smugness, no teasing grin. she had been genuine. it wasn’t a side of her you’d ever anticipated seeing, and it left you feeling… conflicted.

you sighed, your thoughts chasing each other in circles, one that clearly had no end. you try to be honest with yourself— there was no denying that billie intrigued you. she was so different from anyone you’d ever known— bold and unpredictable, but also unexpectedly thoughtful in her own way. the way her face lit up when she talked about that book, how her excitement made you feel lighter, even when you were sure you didn’t want to.

even your own friends this morning couldn’t cheer you up. it wasn’t what you needed— their pestering, the plethora of questions that they always had to ask, you didn’t need any of that. but billie made you feel content, airy, like you could let loose a little bit, even when you didn’t feel up to it. 

you frowned, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. why does she even care so much about what i think? why does she want to know me? the question sat uncomfortably in your chest, its edges sharp and unclear. part of you wanted to write it off as just another one of her games, but another part —the part that noticed the way her voice softened when she apologized to you—wasn’t so sure.

then there was the way she’d looked at you, her blue eyes steady and piercing. it wasn’t like she was trying to figure you out —no, it was like she already had, and she was waiting for you to catch up. it made you feel seen in a way that was both thrilling and absolutely terrifying.

stop overthinking it, you told yourself firmly, shaking your head. but even as you tried to brush it off, her voice echoed in your mind, teasing and warm. 

you couldn’t help but smile at that, though you tried to stifle it. you wiped your face with a cold hand. billie had a way of getting under your skin, and it wasn’t always in a bad way. she just could easily read you, and it scared you a little bit. 

you kept walking as the worship music in your ears grew louder, the volume amplifying until you were sure your earbuds would explode if you turned it up anymore. you had to drown these thoughts out. 

you mumbled a quick prayer to yourself— for clarification, for help on making the right decision. but it felt empty. as some of these prayers always did. 

you always prayed about this. always prayed that these feelings would melt. it wasn’t the first time you felt like your heart was playing tricks on you— you always longed for more than what seemed right and true. but everytime you begged God to remove these feelings, everytime you sat in church and raised your hands when you worshipped, you always felt like in this area of your life, there was no response. 

it was unfair. how could you be so loved, but so neglected? so cherished, but your questions remained unanswered?

as your dorm came into view, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your messages with her. they weren’t much—just casual exchanges, some teasing, some thoughtful. she had already asked you about the book, and you hadn’t even opened it yet, which made you chuckle to yourself. usually you’d always be cheesing at billie’s dry humor and constant pestering, but they made you smile in a way that felt… new.

what is happening to me? you wondered, your steps slowing as you neared the door. you weren’t sure you wanted to answer that question yet.

instead, you typed out a quick reply to her last text, something simple and sarcastic to keep the conversation going.

but as you walked into your room and shut the door behind you, you couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of excitement in your chest. you were so engrossed in your thoughts until you saw emma, literally sitting on your bed while scrolling through her phone. 

you froze in the doorway, your thoughts of billie screeching to a halt. “emma?” you asked, your voice laced with confusion and a hint of exasperation. “why are you on my bed?”

she didn’t even look up, her fingers swiping across the screen with practiced ease. she spoke nonchalantly, “cause your bed’s more comfortable than mine. and my charger’s too short to reach my desk, so…”

you sighed, tossing your bag onto your chair and slipping off your shoes, shoving them into their designated spot in your closet. “em. you could’ve asked.”

“and ruin the element of surprise?” she grinned, finally glancing up at you. “besides, you were out late. so spill. where were you?”

“i wasn’t out late,” you argued, brushing past her to grab a bottle of water from your desk. “it’s barely nine.”

emma raised an eyebrow, setting her phone down. “okay, fine. but where were you? and why do you look… different?”

“i don’t look different,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze as you took a long sip of water from your bottle on your beside table. 

but emma wasn’t buying it. she hopped off your bed and crossed her arms, blocking your path back to your chair. you groaned— this wasn’t going to be easy to get out of. 

“you’ve got that look. like, the ‘something interesting happened but i don’t want to talk about it’ look. so? out with it. deets please.” 

you groaned, flopping onto your bed where she’d just been lounging. “it’s nothing, emma. i just—i ran into someone at the library, and we ended up getting coffee. that’s all.”

“someone?” her eyebrows shot up, and her grin widened. “wait, was it a someone someone? like, a certain diner singer someone?”

you felt your cheeks heat up instantly. “why would you even think that?”

“because you’re blushing,” she said smugly, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside you. she put her phone away, her attention completely focused on you, “so, was it billie?”

“fine, yes,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. there was no point in lying to the girl, so you kept it honest, “but it wasn’t like that. she apologized for the other night, and we just�� talked.”

emma’s grin didn’t falter. if anything, it grew. “talked, huh? and now you’re all smiley and weird. sounds like more than just talking to me.”

“it wasn’t!” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction, “she’s… complicated. but she was nice, and—ugh, i don’t know, emma. can we drop it? you’re always poking me about this.” 

“she’s nice, huh?” emma teased, nudging you playfully. “so, are we talking ‘nice’ as in friendly, or ‘nice’ as in ’i’d let her buy me coffee again’?”

you groaned again, grabbing a pillow and burying your face in it. you voice is muffled as you huff, “i literally hate you.”

“you love me,” she corrected, laughing as she poked your side, trying to grab the pillow from you, but you hold it tight. “but seriously, you don’t just light up like this for anyone. you’re into her, aren’t you?”

your muffled response came through the pillow. “i don’t like girls.”

emma finally pulled the pillow away with undying strength forcing you to look at her. her expression was softer now, more curious than teasing, “right, you don’t like girls— but you like her, and it’s okay if you don’t know. but, like, don’t shut it down just because it’s unexpected. maybe… see where it goes?”

you sighed, sitting up and hugging the pillow to your chest, “emma, i’m not gay. she’s just interesting, and fun to talk to— and the coffee was a bonus to her apology. i wasn’t going to turn that down. she’s cool, but i’m not into her, and i really wish that you and everyone else would stop trying to push this on me.” 

emma grows quiet. you’re clearly not in the mood, but she shrugs at you with a long sigh, “no one is pushing anything on you. it’s obvious that something's going on. i love you— but don’t take this out on us. if you’re confused, then fine, but don’t act like we’re forcing you to do something you literally aren’t already doing. be gay, don’t be gay— we don’t give a shit. you’re still my best friend, it was only jokes.” 

you didn’t respond. it kind of hurt, what emma said— but she was ultimately right. you couldn’t keep being so sensitive just because you couldn’t figure out your own feelings. it wasn’t fair to them, or anyone else, for that matter— it was between you and God alone. 

“i’m sorry.” you apologize, your voice thick with emotion, “i-i didn’t mean to. i’ll stop being so uptight.” 

she doesn’t necessarily know what you mean, but emma didn’t push. she just gave you a knowing smile and stood up, grabbing her phone from the desk. “well, whatever happens, i’ll be here to overanalyze it with you. i love you, okay? now, get some sleep, little lovebird.”

“goodnight, emma,” you muttered, sinking into your sheets as you heard the door slammed close, her footsteps eventually fading out. 

as the door clicked shut behind her, your heart began to race. there was so much going on, so much that made you feel unbalanced, unsteady. 

you reached for your phone, pulling the charger out and opening the Bible app. you clicked on your private notes and started writing, pouring your heart out in a way that felt vulnerable even to you. 

you wrote until your fingers ached. you wrote until you couldn’t see past the blanket of tears that covered your eyes. you were a mess— and you felt so…gross. all of this was wrong. you were too far gone now. 

you couldn’t be friends with billie. not right now, anyways. you couldn’t be friends with her because it was throwing you off your path. it was too much, and you didn’t necessarily adore the feeling of being confused. no matter what, this had to be the last time that you saw billie, that you—

your phone dings. a happy notification sailed across your screen, and you froze. 

billie: hey nerd. wanna hang out tomorrow after class? 

you let out a sigh, ignoring the message as you threw your phone onto the chair across from you lazily. you didn’t have the energy to respond, so you got up to flicker your lights off, forcing yourself to succumb to sleep. 

whatever you do— you have to get away from this girl, or she was going to ruin you. 

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[ofbatsandballads]

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[ssentimentals]

Omg omg i saw someone wrote about bestie!seokmin asking forcing you to play pepero game with him but I LOST it, so pretty please, beautiful, can you do it😫

ooh i never read anything like this, let me try baby, hopefully it'll be as good as original!

lee seokmin + pepero game

'there must be some science behind it,' seokmin comments as you two prepare the table for dinner party tonight.

'behind what?' you ask, washing fruits. 'can you pass me the fruit bowl, please?'

'behind winning a pepero game.' seokmin comes up to you with a bowl in his hand and points at the tv screen, where two famous actors are being forced to play a pepero game. 'like, there's definitely some tactics for winning.'

you squint at the tv screen, watching as audience screams when eventually both of the actors look like they're about to kiss. seokmin arranges fruits just like he knows you like it - apples and oranges at the bottom with grapes on top. he wonders if you noticed how natural it is for you two to be together, how effortlessly conversation flows; he wonders if you noticed how much he knows about you, how he seems to always gravitate towards you whenever you're around. he stares at the fruit bowl and wants to scream because he does things for you without even thinking them through - like him choosing green grapes because you once mentioned in the passing that you don't like purple ones.

'pepero game doesn't require strategic mindset, seokkie,' you comment, turning to him with a sweet smile. 'it's just for fun anyways.'

seokmin is going to blame what comes out of his mouth next for four months of pining over you. 'let's play it then! i will prove that it's all about strategy!'

you look confused for a second, unsure if he's joking or not, so seokmin presses on, desperate in a way that can be considered embarrassing if he had any shame left. gladly, he has none. 'here, i've got them!' seokmin grabs a pack - a strawberry one, because guess whose favorite flavor that is? correct, yours - and shoves it in your hands. 'it's just for fun, you said. right?'

you blink at him. seokmin being this random and chaotic is not a surprise, so you let it slide, deciding to humor him anyway. it concerns you a little how you are up for whatever seokmin plans, too weak to say no to him, but you quickly erase this thought from your mind in favor of concentrating on the game. it makes your heart race a little, no matter how much you want to deny it; this proximity to seokmin makes you a bit giddy inside. 'ready?' you ask, carefully putting one end of the straw in your mouth.

seokmin swallows, staring up at you. maybe it was a bad idea - how he is supposed to keep his cool when you're this close? but there's no stepping back now, so he nods and lightly bites another end of the straw with his teeth, looking up at you. it's only the beginning but he can literally feel sweat running down his temple, because you are right there, so close, he can just take two big bites and your lips will touch. there's a hope in him, burning low somewhere in his heart that his feelings are not unrequited. that sometime between you two laughing so hard that your tummies hurt and deep conversations in hushed voices that felt too intimate for just friends - he just hopes that somewhere between those times you also fell for him.

'seokkie!' you grumble indignantly, when he takes a huge bite, instantly coming up super close to you. 'ugh.'

without thinking, you aso take a big bite just to piss him off but when your noses almost touch, you halt in surprise. you try to gauge seokmin's reaction, but his face gives nothing away; his big chocolate eyes are trained on you with such intensity that you're scared to move, intuitively understanding that pulling back right now will ruin something unspoken. carefully, not taking his eyes off you, seokmin takes a small bite, cutting short distance between you two to the point that one more move and your lips will touch. you are frozen, heart also stopped beating while mind is running frantically - what to do? but seokmin solves this puzzle for you - he leans in, takes one more bite and connects your mouths together. it's not a full kiss, but it's a not a simple peck either, you both pull back to actually chew and swallow strawberry bites and-

seokmin's hand on the back of your neck is heavy and warm. hedraws you back with a gentle force, making it clear that you can easily free yourself but also making it clear that this is not what he wants. 'tell me i'm not wrong or crazy,' he whispers, bringing your foreheads together. 'i- i just can't-' he takes a deep breath before opening his eyes and looking at you. the amount of hope and longing in his gaze shakes you to the core. 'can i kiss you? for real?'

you have no idea how you're still standing because your heart gave up long time ago. you nod and your heart starts beating again when seokmin's lips touch yours - hesitantly, at first. but then diving in deeper, more confidently, drawing out sounds from you that surprise you both. when you lean back, he keeps you two so close that you wonder if he can hear how loudly your heart is beating.

'i like you,' seokmin lets out. 'in case it wasn't clear.'

you giggle at this. 'it's mutual, seokkie.'

he sighs in relief, hugging you tight. seokmin fears that this is all a dream and when he wakes up, it will all be gone. so while you can't see, he pinches himself lightly and hugs you even tighter when he realizes that you did not disappear.

'i owe you guys.' seokmin says, looking seriously at the pack of pepero. 'thanks.'

you slap his chest, laughing. 'we both owe them!'

a/n: oh to play pepero with lee seokmin :((( hopefully you liked it, let me know! - nini

my other seventeen works are here

[cotton-fae24]

Hello everybody! Surprised to see me post something not Seabird related? Well sometimes drawing the same things over and over again gets a little tiring, so to clear my head (and to remind myself to draw legs once in while) I’d tried to draw other owl house stuff. During this break times I’d actually end up drawing other owl house creators Au’s, and I decided to clean up these drawings together and compile them into one big illustration. Think of this post as a sorta tribute to creators that inspire me. And don’t worry, Seabird part 3 will still come out Monday.

First up, the Monster high AU by @dazeddoodles

As the title suggests, it’s an AU that combines the G1 Monster high with the Owl house series. I was a huge Monster High fan when I was younger, so this AU was a real treat. I’m really sad they decided to discontinue it, as I think this AU is really cute. I love the designs too, Raine is my favorite. I kinda just wanted to draw some cute interactions, a young Eda and Raine interacting, Gus and Willow giving Hunter “a hand’ and Amity flirting with Luz (in her own way). Drawing this AU was a lot of fun and did inspire me to rewatch some of the old Monster high specials.

Pittwins AU by @nikolutke

This AU is much darker. The idea of the story is what if Hunter and Luz weren’t resurrected at the end of the series and wandered around the Boiling Isles as ghosts. I love Nikolutke designs for Ghost Luz and Hunter, they’re both haunting and really sad. Plus the idea exploring the Owl house characters reactions towards the death of a love one is really fascinating concept. I kinda explored that idea with these drawings, in this case Eda and Darius reactions. I feel like Eda would be out of her mind with grief, as she was forced to watch Luz’s death first hand. I think she’d feel a lot of guilt too, thinking she failed to protect Luz. I also wonder if Kings Titans powers allows him to see the dead, could be possible. As for the other illustration, I think Darius would probably isolated himself and grieve quietly, contemplating what he could of done differently, and if he could have saved Hunter in time.

The Gilded Cage by @catboymoments

I’ve been fan of both their next gen au and this one, but I decided to post one about the Gilded age au. The basic idea of this AU is the classic “What if Belos found Luz instead of Eda” concept. A lot of these AUs tend to go the route of “Luz becomes Belos 2.0” as someone who loves Luz, I’m sad people just think she’d just instantly become a villain if left unguided. I’m really that this AU went into a different direction and actual kept Luz’s personality and made Luz someone who’s trying to help the Isles and wants to protect her friends from Belos wrath. The one on the left is Lilith and Luz interacting, I like to think Lilith sees a lot of Eda in Luz, and makes her think of the good times before everything got complicated. The one on the right is Luz and Hunter, with the former trying to convince the latter to question Belos control. I love in this AU that despite Belos attempts to put the, against each other, they still have each others back no matter what! Their siblings no matter what universe they’re in!

And of course the classic (pun intended) The Mythology AU by @turquoisespace35

This AU is Huntlow story set in Greek mythology. Hunter in this AU is the half human-gorgon offspring of the human Caleb and gorgon Evelyn. Willow is sent to his location to kill him but (of course) they fall in love instead. The story has a lot of twists and turns, so I suggest you check it out if you haven’t already. The left drawing is Caleb and Evelyn interacting together. I don’t know if this work but I like to think the two were able to somewhat interact with each other by Caleb looking through mirror. I of course had to draw the love birds Hunter and Willow interacting together. The one on the top right is a little bit of a spoiler but I decided to draw Lilith and Edalyns in their goddess forms, I love that Lilith plays the role of Athena and acts a caretaker to Hunter. I drew her getting a little emotional about Hunter finally being free, as any cool Aunt should.

And to those who are just hear to see the Seabird AU, here’s a preview drawing of part 3 of chapter 10. I don’t think Edas really enjoying this part though lol.

Anyway, hope you guys this more unusual post, I just wanted to draw something a little different this time and pay tribute to some of the artists that have inspired me.

[bokutosbabe]

*Pokes my head in through your window*

Good morning, I'm here for the 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event. I'll like to request 🍑+🧁 with Yukimiya Kenyu.

well good morning ! ( afternoon as this is posted )

a yukimiya kenyu peach cupcake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° home is wherever you are

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends to lovers, their moms are also best friends, reader tries to deny their feelings for yukimiya

♡ synopsis — from the second you were born, your mother swore you were meant to marry her best friends son, yukimiya kenyu. maybe they'd accept just a fake marriage?

You and Yukimiya Kenyu had been attached at the hip for as long as you could remember.

Your mothers were best friends, bonded by years of shared secrets, inside jokes, and matching visions of the future. And somewhere along the way, that vision started to include you and Yukimiya—together.

“When they grow up, they’ll get married. Mark my words,” your mom would say with a wink.

Yukimiya’s mom always chimed in with a dreamy sigh, “They’re perfect for each other. Just look at them!”

You and Yukimiya? Perfect for each other? You’d laugh it off every time.

But no matter how much you tried to ignore their teasing, the words stuck.

The years passed, and the two of you became inseparable. From sharing homework to cheering him on at soccer matches, you were there for every high and low.

You knew everything about him—the way he hummed when he was deep in thought, how he needed his tea just right, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his dreams.

And he knew everything about you.

But no matter how close you were, there was always an unspoken rule between you: don’t cross the line.

When the marriage simulation program paired you together, you’d both burst out laughing.

“Of course it’s you,” Yukimiya said, shaking his head with a small smile.

“It’s like the universe is conspiring with our moms,” you joked, though your stomach flipped at the thought of living with him for weeks.

You didn’t expect much to change. After all, you’d been friends forever. This would be just like old times—right?

It wasn’t.

Living together was different.

For one, you started noticing things you hadn’t before. Like how he always smelled faintly of citrus, or how his hair looked when he stepped out of the shower, damp and a little messy.

And then there was the way he looked at you—so soft, so open, like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. This was just Yuki. He was thoughtful, sweet—he’d always been like this.

But the more time you spent together, the harder it became to convince yourself that your feelings were strictly platonic.

It all came to a head one evening.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through the program’s assignments, when he spoke up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice unusually tentative.

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about what our moms used to say? About us getting married?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Uh, sometimes. Why?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “I used to think it was ridiculous, you know? Like, they were just joking around. But…”

You waited, holding your breath.

“But now I’m starting to wonder if maybe they weren’t entirely wrong.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Yuki,” you said softly, your chest tightening.

He looked at you, his expression both nervous and hopeful. “I know this is probably the worst time to say this, but I—” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I like you. More than just as a friend. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to mess things up between us.”

Your heart felt like it was about to burst. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “But now… I can’t pretend anymore.”

You didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly his arms were around you, holding you close.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore either,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest.

The simulation ended a few days later, but your relationship didn’t.

For once, your moms were right.

And this time, you didn’t mind one bit.

i love yukimiya so much it's unhealthy

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[teaboot]

I have no illusions of what I am. I’m a rent-a-cop. A mall cop. A babysitter for adults. I’m nobody’s boss, or dictator, and most of my employed purpose is to be a scarecrow for people who think I have some kind of power or authority.

I’m not allowed to touch anyone, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to carry a weapon of any kind, and I don’t want to. Im not allowed to chase anyone or yell at anyone, and I don’t want to. I firmly believe, one hundred percent, that the vast majority of conflicts can be handled without violence by simply talking, listening, offering resources, and keeping your own ego in check. Remaining humble and treating others as though they are doing the best they can.

I’m good at my job, and I like my job, and I like feeling like I can help people, even unpleasant or unkind or irrational people. Especially those people, because life is fucking hard when nobody is happy to see you and everyone expects the worst from you.

It’s a necessity that I cooperate with police sometimes. Arson, assaults, stuff like that. And every few months, a cop tells me I should apply to become a cop. That I’m good with ‘difficult people’ and they need extra hands.

And like

Every time, it’s a little bit tempting

I don’t want power. Being in the authority position I HAVE, as small as it is, is exhausting. I don’t like how other security guards talk about addicts and homeless people, and while the cops I’ve met aren’t as crass, I’m skeptical that the outlook on that side of the fence is any better.

But like. I’ve had friends tempted over that way, and they think they can do good from the inside, and I want to believe them

I know a single cog that ticks against the rhythm gets either ground down into shape or gets spit out in pieces, but I want to think it could alter the machine just a tiny bit, you know? If it held out long enough

I don’t believe police are vital or even NECESSARY for half the shit that goes down in this city, but like

Even here, in my two-bit nothing-ass Paul Blart career, I've helped people

Saved backpacks and shopping carts from being unloaded into the trash, helped kids and lost folks find their families, talked down violent or erratic people, responded to ODs and backed up paramedics

I’ve been able to shield kids from criminal charges, and hook people up with resources, buy people food and direct away from hazards and walk people to their cars at night and like

I don’t believe in our justice system, and I don’t trust the police, and I don’t think anything meaningful is ever accomplished through intimidation or threats of violence, and even though other guards I know DO, Im better at my job than they are, and I’m doing good here. Even if they think I’m a soft, naive, gullible loser, I’m effective. So it doesn’t matter.

So like. I keep wondering. Could I do good there, too?

And I think that’s where the devil keeps getting you

The devil keeps tempting me and what they don’t tell you about that is everyone thinks “Maybe he won’t fuck over me. Maybe I’m special”

[fuctacles]

<< 14 | 0 | 16 >>

looking for dog-themed songs for the fic playlist

They sit facing each other on the warmed up concrete, having given away the lawn chairs to the girls. Steve is sliding every piece of onion off his skewer and onto Eddie's plate, which sits right next to his for easy sharing. It reminds him of cafeteria meals and swapping snacks with friends, something he never had with Steve, because of how different they were in high school. It makes him wonder if what he's feeling could really be mutual. 

"Are you staying for the movie?"

His eyes snap back up to meet Steve's, waiting for an answer. 

"I guess so. What are we watching?" It might not be the wisest to keep around while figuring himself out, but what is he going to do? Not spend time with his friends? 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"The jury is still out," he answers dryly. "But I can guess some nerd shit will get majorly outvoted."

Eddie snorts.

"What would you pick? A baseball game?" he asks, chewing on a piece of meat. His fingers are getting greasy, but they forgot to grab napkins and standing up sounds like too much exercise. 

Steve moves the grilled bits on his plate with the now empty skewer. 

"Not really..." he says, all quiet and shy, which immediately grabs Eddie's attention. Wary of the food and drinks between them, he leans in conspiratorially. 

"You can tell me, I ain't a snitch," he reassures, and when Steve looks up, he adds a wink. Steve huffs out an amused breath.

"I like romantic comedies," he admits, watching Eddie warily, like he's awaiting judgement. 

"Huh." He sits back to properly take him in. "That kinda makes sense."

"Yeah?" Steve raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah." Eddie shrugs, and now he's feeling self-conscious. "It suits you. We could watch something one day, your pick."

Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods, do not invite Steve for one-on-one romcom watching—!

Steve's face lights up with a wide smile. 

"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that one, Munson," he teases, but it's obvious he's genuinely excited by the offer. 

"Already regretting I said it," Eddie teases back, but offers Steve a strip of bacon so he knows he doesn't mean it. 

Without thinking, he starts licking the grease off his fingers, and it takes him a moment to realize Steve stopped moving. He looks up with a questioning hum, fingertip in his mouth.

"You need a napkin?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrows. 

"Nah, I'm good," Eddie mumbles around his finger just to be difficult, and pushes it deeper, sucking with gusto. For once, Steve doesn't look into his eyes, too focused on his mouth. His cheeks are colored the faintest shade of pink, and Eddie finally realizes what he's been doing. He slides his finger out with a wet smack and smiles apologetically. "Sorry. Want me to lick yours too?" he offers, like the good friend that he is. 

Someone nearby chokes, but he's too focused on the bit to check who. Their fault for listening in, right?

Meanwhile, Steve's face turns tomato red. 

"Uh, I'll manage myself. I'm good at licking," he cringes as soon as the worlds leave his mouth, and Eddie almost chokes himself with how hard he laughs.

====

After the party, comes more cleaning. This time, as there's more people and everyone gets forced into using their two hands and opposable thumbs, it goes faster, though with much more complaining.

Sometime in the middle of filling the trash bags, Robin has changed the music. Steve sighs, when the first song plays, but by the next two, his head is nodding to the beat. On the chorus, his hips sway, and Eddie almost drops the plate he's holding. 

"Your song, dingus!" Robin yells when the next song starts, making Steve roll his eyes. But he's shimmying his shoulders and mouthing along to all the lyrics. 

They tie away their bags at the same time, which gives Eddie the misfortune of watching him free his hands and make a silly little dance.

"Well, you ain't never caught no rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" he mouths along, and when he catches Eddie staring, he gives him a sheepish smile and a wink.

"Should I find you more dog themed songs to dance to?" he raises his eyebrow with a smile.

"No—"

"Yes!" Robin pops out from behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm constantly on the look out, but there aren't many good songs. I want to make a playlist." She grins. 

"Oh, I'm in." Eddie smiles back, extending his hand. Their palms slap together, and Steve shakes his head.

"Wow. Traitors." 

"Oh, I'd never betray you, Hound Dog," Eddie declares with a hand to his heart. Steve flips him off.

====

They pick The Battle for Endor, which Steve accepts with a sigh and a quiet "At least it has teddies," something probably only Eddie can hear, since he's sitting right next to him. He starts dozing off halfway through anyway, but Eddie doesn't wake him up until the movie ends and they have to plan how to get the younger lot home. It was a busy day, after all. 

"I'm going home anyway, so I can take them," Nancy offers. 

"Don't be stupid," Steve mumbles in his half-asleep state. "You won't fit them in your car."

"I can get Max and Super Twins," Eddie says, and the grasp around his arm tightens. He looks down at Steve, suddenly awake and frowning.

"You're not staying?" he asks, audibly upset. 

"I'll come back," Eddie reassures him quickly, patting his hand. "Okay! Mad Max, Wonder Twins, grab your shit. The sooner we leave, the closer I am to getting wasted," he commands, gently prying himself out of Steve's grasp. He scratches behind his ear as a consolation. "Should I grab anything while I'm out?"

"No," Steve says quickly, even though Jonathan has already opened his mouth, most probably with a request.

Something twists in Eddie's chest.

"Okay, buddy, I'll be back as soon as I can, no detours," he reassures again, with another scratch. 

"Okay, thanks." Steve closes his eyes briefly, but then blinks them open and pushes at his thigh, like his mind has suddenly cleared from the remnants of sleep. "Be quick, but without breaking the law." He smiles up at Eddie.

"Ugh, fine." He rolls his eyes. "Be right back," he nudges Steve's head before motioning the kids to follow him outside. 

It's suddenly silent, with the movie over and most of the people gone from the room. Steve clears his throat, watching Robin crawl over the carpet to rewind the tape. 

"So only Nancy isn't staying?" he asks, looking around the room. 

"I already told my parents I'm sleeping over." Robin shrugs. 

Jonathan and Argyle look at each other, like they are communicating in a way not dissimilar to Steve and Robin.

"It's good vibes here, man," Argyle says, his hair swaying as he nods. 

"Eddie promised we'll compare the goods," Jonathan adds. 

"Oh, right!" his friend perks up, his eyes sparkling. "Almost forgot about that."

Robin makes a face. 

"God, I really hope you mean the weed," she says. "You think I can still persuade Nancy to come back?"

The boys start snickering, but Steve quickly collects himself to answer her question, no matter how unserious it is. 

"I think she wouldn't be comfortable," he winces, because they all know why. "But I could drive you to hers if you want to?" he offers instead. 

She shakes her head. 

"Nah, just give me a beer and I'll lower my joke standards to yours."

"Okay, you don't have to be mean, Robs," Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. On his way to the kitchen, he tugs on her hair. "Beers for everyone?" He turns to look at each of his remaining guests.

Jonathan nods, but Argyle shakes his head. 

"I don't mix my substances," he says, pulling out a joint out of his pocket instead. 

When Eddie comes back, he makes a beeline upstairs, hoping he hasn't been spotted. He doubts his van hasn't been heard, her old-lady coughs being a part of her charm, but maybe he was stealthy enough inside not to be traced. 

But once he's back down he realizes how foolish that thought was. Because somehow, Steve is ridiculously attuned to him and has his eyes on Eddie immediately, like he's been expecting him. A cold bottle of beer is pressed into his hand when he sits back in the seat that's been waiting for him. 

"Dropped some stuff upstairs, since I'm sleeping over again," he explains quietly without prompting, his nervousness making him yap unnecessarily, as usual. "Uh, are we bunking together too, or...?" It was probably stupid of him to assume, considering there are more people in the house today that need a place to sleep. 

Considering his own freak out this morning. 

"Of course," Steve says with a smile that tells him no other option had crossed his mind. "Unless you don't want to?" he cocks his head, almost like he's tilting curious, pointed ears. "I promise to wear pants this time." 

Jonathan chokes on his beer, and when Eddie snaps his head that way, Argyle gives him a supportive smile and that weird surfer gesture, while patting Jon on the back.

He hopes the dim light of the room hides the flush of embarrassment on his face. 

"Well, since you promise to be decent, how could I say no?" he says, rolling his head back to Steve. 

Steve, who gives him a relieved, dazzling smile, and presses their thighs together, flooding his whole body with warmth.

It's terrifying, how good it feels. 

tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phatomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets

@ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @eyehartart

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - kai xiao zao’s director (Xi Lou) Weibo update : letter to xz to celebrate 6 years of cooperation

"Six Years" To the late-maturing of "Us”

One year, two years, three years, four years, five cold and hot seasons, six springs and autumns; how beautiful is Chinese, there are so many interesting quantifiers to describe 365 days, time is like sand between fingers, no matter how tightly you hold it, it still slips silently from the gaps, piling up into the tall or low sand dunes full of stories on the long river of life, and the wind blows, and the past is flying.

2024 is a year of precipitation. "WM", which has been prepared for a long time, finally meets everyone. We met "WM", and the old friend showed his versatility as a singer. I still remember the first day the album was launched, a friend of mine on QQ com said to me: I haven't seen such a lineup for a long time. Looking at his appearance that had never seen the "world", I calmly said: "Nothing else, just use your heart", turned around and left, hiding my merits and fame. Thinking of the Excel spreadsheet five years ago, we were also new to the world. Actually, I want to say that I know what "WM" has experienced. Its success is not accidental, but the result of the gentleness of spring breeze and rain, and it is inevitable that it has accumulated over the years.

The birthday in 2024 was spent in the crew, which is not unusual. After all, most of the year, greetings were basically in the crew every time, but no matter how busy you are, you have to have a sense of ceremony. Xiao Zao specially customized a birthday cake and sent it to the crew. Then a friend in the studio sent me a picture of many cakes and picked Xiao Zao. Sure enough, the one who understands XZ's heart the most is XZ. After receiving the picture, I praised Xiao Zao because I know that it is easy to work hard for one year on the same thing, but it is difficult to work hard for six years.

I just got back from a business trip. It is now 22:42 on January 4th. I am sitting in my study table. As I write this, the phonograph album happened to play "Confessions of a Night Person". There is a sentence in Mo Yan's "Late Bloomers": "People with good natures mature late, and are forced to mature by bad people. Although they become wise later, they are still kind and sincere." I sometimes wonder why we can walk hand in hand for six years. Are we all a group of late bloomers? "When others are smart, we are stupid and dull; when others weigh the pros and cons, we are sincere; when others have exhausted their scheming and gradually fallen into a state of decline, we just happen to be wise." We are all a group of simple people, which may be the ultimate reason why fate can continue. If there is a chance, I will sing "Confessions of a Night Person" for everyone. This is my favorite.

Some friends told me in private that the 2024 Xiao Zao is a bit dull. In fact, I want to say that compared with the short-term and vigorous forgetfulness, I prefer the long-term mutual support. Companionship is the longest confession. This affection beyond commercial endorsement is worth cherishing forever.

Do you still remember the "Legend of the Condor Heroes" mentioned in "Five Years"? This one-year agreement will finally be fulfilled in 23 days. Xiao Zao invites everyone to watch the movie together in 9 major cities across the country, feel the swordsmanship, and regain childhood dreams together. Oh, by the way, the hero Guo Jing should also be a late bloomer.

We still need to give the "old couple" some sense of ceremony. Today, let's roll up our sleeves, tie up our hair, open our hearts, learn from the hero, and cook with him as wine.

As usual, toast a bowl:

Cheers to simplicity

Cheers to peace and safety

Cheers to health

Cheers to eating well

May the flowers be the same year after year, and the people be the same year after year!

Sixth year, please give me more advice.

[floofyflowers]

HI ive been brainrotting so could i req naib romantic hcs please?

hi, hope you're having a wonderful start to 2025, lovie! it's been a while, hasn't it? (so sorry i am two years late on this!)

naib subedar x gn!reader - general romantic headcanons ❤️

implied ptsd (naib's), but nothing blatantly discussed!

you're the most wonderful thing to have happened to him in the longest time. he truly, truly treasures you and deeply so.

he's a quiet lover; he'd rather let his actions speak louder, making up for his sparsity in words.

that being said, he loves doing things for you!! oh, you're feeling down today? he soon appears with your favorite drink in hand, holding it out to you, made with his own love.

(/nsx) too tired to bathe yourself? don't worry, he's gently scrubbing your back after a long day.

sometimes, he does struggle with voicing everything he feels.

the love he holds for you runs so deep, yet he could never bring himself to find a way to voice that. all he can do is hope you spot the soft adoration in his eyes as he gazes upon you.

he truly doesn't mean to make you feel unloved; if you asked him to, he would do his best to try affirming his love out loud more often.

his 'i love you's are soft-spoken, a quiet murmur in your ear as the two of you hold each other in bed.

he often gets nightmares, and you have to gently remind him that he can rely on you for comfort. you urge him to wake you up, and he softly hums in acknowledgement; in the end, it's not until much later in your relationship does he let himself wake you up.

in the earlier stages of your relationship, he felt a little guilty. he felt undeserving of your love, of finding solace in you. he believed he was the last person to deserve you.

through your love and time, though, he slowly (very slowly) grows more comfortable in the idea of being loved by you (very, very slowly, though) (did i put enough emphasis on how slow it takes)

you teach him how to look at the world with a little more love, and he teaches you how to take it all a little more slowly :)

in a normal life, outside of the manor, he'd most certainly have a picture of you in his wallet. if someone were to ask about it, he'd tell them that's his spouse/wife/husband.

only lets you mess with his hair!! oh my goodness, his hair is so soft. he doesn't really invest in haircare, but it's still so, so soft and nice. he'd let you braid it, style it, accessorize it, whatever you want (but only behind closed doors).

his love is written in the soft look he has on his face when watching you, in the comforting hold of his hand on your waist, in the little and not-so-little acts he does for you.

speaking of, while it's not his biggest love language, he likes physical touch. he'd rather give it than receive it, but he doesn't mind if you yourself are touchy (i think he just doesn't like being caught off-guard; spontaneous hugs from behind would be a no-go for quiet some time)

he likes caressing your hand, though :) he enjoys cupping the side of your face to observe your features, the face of his beloved.

love lit by candlelight, quiet moments in bed, gentle kisses on the palm of your hand; your love is a soft one :)

not proofread read at all! definitely could do better, and i honestly really liked writing for naib, so i might come back to him again...

[tsukiakurotori]

I might be a little late but...if I may... *carefully presents my two current wolships, then hides* 🥺

Tsukia and Haurchefant-

They enjoy cuddling, once Tsukia is comfortable and used to the physical contact. She comes to feel safe with him, so will often be trying to have her activities such as reading be near him. Sometimes her tail will even subconsciously curl around him when they are together without her noticing. 🤭

Bonus (a future little snippet of them):

Morning had dawned. But Tsukia was still sleeping. And he… He didn’t have the heart to wake her. The paperwork could wait. As she snuggled closer, seeking warmth, he brought her into his arms, wrapping the blankets tighter around them. She gave a contented sigh, relaxing deeper into slumber. The smile that appeared on his face couldn’t be contained as he gazed at her fondly.  Gently nuzzling the top of her head, Haurchefant decided that he would sleep in this morning as well. Taiki gave a quiet huff as he stared at the two from his bed on the floor. The hoarhound pup settled back down as well, curled into a ball. All was quiet in the Commander’s quarters, though all others were already bustling through their morning routines.  It wasn’t long before some started wondering where Lord Haurchefant was, unused to him being absent at this hour. There were a few who could only give each other knowing looks before going about their business. 

Safianne and Estinien-

These two are still pretty new to me as a ship, but... Currently, I would have to say that they enjoy training and adventuring together. 🤔 Safianne may be a Sage, but she trained as a Lancer in Gridania when she was young before then, so Estinien ends up teaching her the ways of a Dragoon while they are getting closer and learning about each other. Though initially baffled by it, I think Estinien also enjoys when she randomly falls asleep against him, feeling safe enough to let her guard down, and when she shares her travel snacks with him or specially makes some for him. 🤭💕 I think they both enjoy the playfulness that comes out during a good sparring match between the two however.

Considering one of the things she did during their initial interactions was kicking a lance up off the ground to single-handedly point it at him... This moody Sage is undaunted by his grump. 🤣

I love them a lot with just the few snippets I have so far. 😭💕 She's so willing to do anything to protect him, even at great cost to herself, as she is unwilling to stand by and lose him like she did her parents. Not when she has the power to change things this time.

For the sake of protecting anyone she gets into a relationship with, Saf wasn’t one to make obvious displays of affection, such as kissing or holding hands in front of others. It was to save them from being targeted by anyone after her. But it becomes different with Estinien.🥺

*realizes how much ranting I've been doing* ...Oops. Apologies for the length. I shall make myself scarce now. Hopefully, this brought you even just a tiny bit of enjoyment. 😅🥺💕

Throwing this out there as a wolqotd -

Could I get some wolships in here and what’s their favorite activity together? 🫣

[icarusredwings]

Toast

(Yeah, he got the hello kitty toaster)

Sfw poolverinessa sick-ficlet

Cw: implied past eating disorder and cancer related puking

Vanessa never really knew why, but some days, Wade ate a lot of toast. Sometimes half a loaf. He would visit the bathroom often and come back smelling clean. Minty or lemon scented.

He'd smile and say "Why not? I like toast." When asked why but secretly she wondered if there was more to it.

It wasn't until Logan came around that she finally figured it out.

Here, in the morning, Wade had toast for breakfast. Simple really. Just two slices with jam. She had noticed Logan's gestures moved away from the lunch plans they were talking about.

"What about that place on 6th street?" He has said before, but now was suggesting a movie marathon at home.

What had changed? Within a wordless instant, they had taken lunch off the table.

"Maybe for dinner?" She asks, getting a curious look from Logan and a smile from Wade. Subtle enough to be unnoticeable if you hadn't been with him for the last 10 years.

"Yeah! Maybe. I heard they take reservations, though." Was all that was said, but Vanessa squinted, peering into those deep yellows, searching for any sort of falsification.

"Yeah... maybe." She repeats, only for him to glance back at Logan, taking a big bite of the toast. "So what movies are we gonna watch? Whatever you want. I'm not picky." Wade says, another sharp bite.

"What? Oh yes, you are." The scuff man smirks. "You're prissier than a lil miss pretty in pink pagent show."

"And I think you've been spending too much time with Rouge." Wade giggled. "What do you think V?"

"I think hes right. You ARE prissy and petty... And pathetic."

"Oi, you love pathetic men." He says, shoving the rest of the toaste in his mouth, jam falling down his chin.

Rolling her eyes, Vanessa kisses his lips, licking the jelly off. "That I do.. and you smell.. different." The tone it's said in is suspicious. Because it kinda was.

"I changed my body wash. This one's supposed to be gentle on skin. Wolvie said it would be better for me, but I think it smells like ass."

"It's irratant free." Logan budded in, taking a sip of his soda. "Which includes those perfumes."

"Look peanut, you might be able to get away with being all naturel with your manly wolvie musk but I smell like death." Wade says, eating the other toast.

"That's kind of an insult to Death, isn't it?" She asks, shifting to grab the remote, scrolling through their options.

"Oh definitely. She smells like fresh bloomed flowers after it rains." He mutters, filled with longing and well- Toast.

"Well, don't go dying on us just to see her, 'kay bub?" It's taken as a jabe, this serious statment was. As all things were to Wade, who only laughs, getting up.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, you two choose. Don't have too much fun without me." He says, heading off to the bathroom.

Hm. Nothing seems out of place just yet. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she had a feeling something was wrong.

When Wade returned, he smelt of artifical mint and that gross cheap spray that gas stations used in their bathroom. The lemon kind that smelled more like chemicals then actual lemons.

Ood, but not unusual. Maybe they just got minty bar soap. Who knows. Though she didn't remember seeing any.. huh.

____

Later, just as they were starting the second movie, Logan had brought a big bowl of buttery pop corn and again a plate of toast. This time buttered.

"Hold on. I gotta go to the bathroom again. You know. Kidney cancer shit. Go ahead and start without me." Wade says, waving them off as he leaves.

Blinking, for a second, Vanessa wondered. This was his 6th time going to the bathroom already and not every time, but most times, he would be in there for a good couple of minutes.

"Is he okay?" She asked Logan, who shrugged, having the toast in his lap, holding it. "About as okay as he'll ever be I guess."

"Soo no. Got it.. hey, can I ask you something?" Vanessa scoots a little closer, quieting down her voice as the starting credits play on the tv.

"If it's what I think, the awnser is no."

"What? No! Not that. God... men. I was gonna ask.. Why does Wade eat so much toast? Doesn't it give him a stomach ache? I thought he was allergic to gluten for a while." She adds, whispering.

Logan now tilts his head, giving her a stupid look only to soften into a 'Oh yeah' expression. "Right.. not everyone has my nose. My bad. Wade eats a bunch of toast because it settles and soaks up his stomach acid. Mentioned something about 'it's better to have something to throw up then nothing at all' too, which I hope is about the stomach cancer and not.. nevermind." He waves his hand, shaking his head. "It's true, though. Trust me, I've threw up a ton as a kid, and it was always better to have something in there."

"So... every time he..." She gestures to the bathroom vaugey with her hand. "He's.. puking?"

"Yeh.. kind of suprised you didn't know already. Though.. I guess it makes sense." Logan mutters, thinking.

"He's been hiding it from me.." It's a statement as if realizing this on her own, now processing.

"It's not really your fault. He physically can't hide it from me.. I can smell it. I can smell him crying and hear him brushing his teeth too." He mutters, looking at the bathroom door, that now clicks open and out comes a freshly cleaned up Wade, smiling that fake, appeasing grin.

Vanessa goes silent about the subject, only scooting back over and patting his seat between them. "You're just in luck. The movie just started."

Coming over, Wade sits between them, pulling his feet up to tuck under Logan's ass with a cheeky grin.

"Here. Eat." He mutters, handing the toast plate to Wade, who immediately begins to eat it.

"Ooh! Wolvie you salted it like I like!" He coes, shifting to lean agaisnt him, nuzzling his cheek.

"Mhm. I remember. Also... Vanessa wants to ask you something."

Her eyes widden, looking at Logan with that 'bitch!?' Look only to smile nervously, brows going together in a sense of tensity.

"Yes!" Wade boarderline chants.

"No! Not that! God.. you both are disgusting. I... I wanted to ask... Why did you feel the need to hide it from me-"

"Hide what? He immediately asks, cutting her off.

"The fact that you're throwing up........again.."

The volume of the pause is deafening. Enough for Wade's fake grin to drop, instantly turning to Logan as if he had just cut his heart out and sold it to the goverment (fuck the goverment, a voice echoed in his head)

"Why did you- i-.. I don't know what you're talking about." He laughs, forcibly.

Both of his partners stare at him, quiet and not finding this behavior any funny.

"I'm not! Ness I-i don't-"

"Wade..." Logan mutters, giving him a look.

Tearing up, Wade shifts, tensing and holds his plate tight. "B-but I'm not!!... not like that. I-i swear! I-..." a couple tears fall down his cheeks as Logan rubs his back, taking the chance of being injured. "Logan helped me get better."

This confession hurts to say. Ness knows it. The way his voice tightened and how panicked he got.

"That's.. not what I meant, sweetie."

"Oh...OH.. well fuck.. I- c-Cause it's fucking disgusting?? Why would I want you to worry 'bout me anyway? I don't need anyon' to carry my burdens for me. I can do it myself. A-and look mighty sexy doing it!" He says, wiping his eyes and sniffling, seeming to stop crying now that it was clarified.

"He's right about that last bit.. how you make insane seem sexy is beyond me." The flirt from Logan makes Wade smile, which is all that was needed at the moment.

"Pfft- like you're one to talk.."

"Wade, Sweetheart. You are not a burden and neither is your bullshit. Logan might have married you first but your bullshit is still my bullshit. Yeah?"

"V, I'm already the phyco guy who looks like half raw half burnt bacon, okay? I don't need to be known as 'the guy that pukes all the time' too."

She blinks, a little taken aback. "..Is that how you think we see you?" Taking his hands, she starts to talk, but Logan interrupts.

"That's a lot of words for 'Sexy motherfucker with a big mouth and nice ass' but sure. Potato patato."

Smiling again, Wade giggles. "Sttoopp... dont stop."

"I won't. But you gotta litsen to her yeah? Or shes gonna go all dommy mommy on you and make you write those affermations again."

"Fuckin' hated that..." Wade mutters, letting her thumbs rub over his rough backroad like hands, over his knuckles and up his wrists.

"And I'll do it again. You look at me and you listen good. You are way more to me then you will ever know. You are ever changing. Evolving. So is my love for you. No, you don't have to tell me every little thing, but telling me you don't feel good shouldn't feel like being a burden. Got it?"

"Mhm.." Wade was looking away, not wanting to look her in the eyes. No, because then he would be forced to see all the truth love in her eyes, proof against all the lies that his mind has made him believe.

"Wade Winston Wilson-" She states.

"Shit... you didn't have to goverment name me.." He whines, looking at her, seeing deep into her soul. She was telling the truth. She loved him. Bullshit and all.

Tearing up again, he makes a whimper sound, lips curling into the biggest frown. "Y-you mean it?"

"Of course I do.. you don't have to hide what's going on, baby.... now come lay on my tits and watch a medicore overhyped movie." She grins, shifting to let Wade curl into her, an arm wrapped around him, petting his head.

Logan scoots closer, putting an arm around them both, Holding the popcorn, smiling. Finally. Someone had shoved some sense into that stupid head of his. Maybe now he'd stop lying about having to pee so much.

Settling into their cuddle pile, Wade fells better, the toast filling his stomach, love in his heart, and eyes dry.

".....I have to puke again." He mutters, not even an entire 45 seconds of being in their grasp.

Both Vanessa and Logan sigh, letting him get up. "At this point just bring the trashcan, bub."

"I would, buuut you might mistake it for me-"

"Damn it, Wade!!"

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

You are amazing by the way, can I please request a fluff fic for Jason Todd with a reader who’s so sweet, super affectionate and loves him literally worships his body and always kissing his scars

Why yes you can :) I live laugh love some body worship with Jason💜

Pretty Boy

Jason Todd x Reader

Lots of fluff!! Y'all are lucky I felt nice today and didn't decide to write another angst

One kiss.

Then another.

And yet another: they seemed like they would go on for ages. Jason wouldn't mind that, of course. And neither would you, for the record. There is absolutely nothing you loved more than making your boyfriend feel as loved as he actually is.

It started early in the morning, when Jason was making breakfast. Today was one of those rare days where he would wake up before you and get up to make food. Believe it or not, he's actually a great cook, especially with breakfast. It's hard to even comprehend how easily he's able to flip an omelette.

"Good morning, Mr. Todd," your voice is barely more than a hoarse whisper as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, the sound slightly muffled by his skin. Before he even has a chance to response, you press a feather light kiss to the scar ranging from his shoulder to the middle of his back.

"Good morning, gorgeous," is Jason's immediate response, smiling slightly to himself even though you couldn't see it from your current angle. He didn't think much of the kiss at first; he does the same to you whenever you're cooking.

"How did you sleep, handsome?" Sometimes, Jason forgets how sweet your voice sounds. It startles him, in some strange way. If it were anybody else speaking, he would've found the honey-sweet tone to be sickening.

But not with you.

Not with his sweet girl.

"Slept fine..." His tone, however, is a dead giveaway that he's bullshitting you. Jason Todd is many things, but a good liar isn't one of them. Not with you, at least. From the first kiss the two of you had ever shared, he knew that it would be difficult to lie to a woman with such a sweet taste.

And, for a moment, he's almost convinced you believe him. The most you do is let out a soft hum, accompanied with a slight sigh, before pressing a kiss to one of the scars on the back of his neck. He almost let out an actual sigh of relief at your lack of response.

"Bullshit."

Instead, he lets out a soft sigh of defeat. There wasn't much of a point in denying it now, was there? Besides, he can't escape the slight feeling of guilt he gets whenever he lies to you, even over something so simple. Sometimes, he wonders if that's because he told a harmless lie to Bruce before seeking out his biological mother.

Jason doesn't respond for a while, not verbally, at least. His shoulders hunch up a little, almost like they're stuck almost shrugging in response to you calling him out. He doesn't notice, but he does that a lot whenever he lies to you. Hell, he even does it when he lies to Bruce nowadays.

The most you hear from him for what seems like forever is a soft, shuddering sigh. Sometimes, you have to wonder if he tries to convince himself that he was okay, too. Did he do it with other things, like when he has to stitch up his own wounds or hold gauze to a gaping injury?

Probably.

Sometimes, it's like he forgets he has you. Of course he's grateful for you and absolutely refuses to take you for granted. Even with the love of his life there by his side, it's like he's just... Used to bottling it up. You can only imagine that it kills him inside the same way it kills you.

But still, his silence prevails.

A fourth kiss to a scar on his neck. A fifth to one between his shoulderblades. A sixth to the 'J' shaped branding mark on his cheek. You wish you knew him before his untimely death. Before all of the rage and need for vengance consumed him whole.

And finally, finally, you turn him to face you, leaning over to turn off the stove behind him for the time being. At first, he looked confused. Whether it was because of your lips' sweet assault on his body or because you turned him around, you weren't quite sure.

Regardless, the warmth sparked in his body only spread as you started to pepper his autopsy scar in feather-light kisses. The touch of your soft lips to his marred skin was nothing less than that of an angel's on a sinner. Oh, how he prayed to the God's above that he could keep your touch for just the shortest bit longer.

When your lips eventually make their way down to the bottom of his most prominent scar, past his bellybutton and just barely reaching the teail of dark hair down to his pelvis, you give him one more liss before rising. You liked having a guy like Jason who didn't turn a situation sexual at any possible chance. It took so long for him to let you see his body like that, and you would never break that kind of trust.

As your eyes finally meet his yet again, the green orbs practically shining in the morning rays of light, you press a soft peck to the tip of his nose. If this were back when you first started dating, Jason would've undoubtedly flinched away from such a sudden touch.

But now, after months of exploring eachother's bodies and souls? He trusts you. Your boyfriend, for the first time since his resurrection, trusts somebody.

"Come lay back down with me, Jay..." You coo softly, resting your forehead against his while wrapping your arms around his thick neck. To anybody else, this type of affection would be odd. I mean, how could the Red Hood learn how to love gently?

But to the two of you, it's home.

"It's only eight... I've got another hour before I really have to be up for work," you try to reason as the slight bit of hesitation Jason always holds appears in his beautiful eyes. You knew that as soon as you tried reasoning with him in that honey-sweet tone again, he'd crack. "Come talk to me. Maybe you can get a little more sleep to make up for such a crappy night, hm?"

You end up staying home the whole day with him to just talk.

Masterlist

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because they're funny

Scar: You have an impressive pain tolerance. Grian: Thanks, it's the trauma.

Scar: Where are you going? Grian: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Grian: Scar, no. Scar: Scar, yes.

Scar: Do I least have a chance to explain myself? Grian: This is America, so nope! Scar: This isn't America, this is OHIO!

Scar: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Grian: Well, it’s frowned upon. Scar: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? Scar: That’s okay, right?

Scar: Grian, this morning, I called you abhorrent and reprehensible, and I’d like to withdraw that statement- Grian: Aww, thanks- Scar: But I can't. Those are the 2 words that best describe you.

Grian: Remain CALM! slaps Scar multiple times

Scar: My head hurts. Grian: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

Grian, in the hospital: Will you visit me when I get out? Scar: Lol nah, I hate graveyards.

Grian: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Scar: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Grian: Can I have your number? Scar, visible texting: I don't have a phone.

Scar: I wanna sleep for 40 hours. Grian: You know that's called a coma, right? Scar: Scar: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

Grian: You are, of course, wondering why it is I have brought you here tonight. Scar: Actually, Grian, after all these years, I just sort of go with it.

Grian: Try not to roll your eyes at me. Scar: I don't have pupils.

Grian: Hey. Scar: pissed off You… complete …ASS, Grian! You show up here after WEEKS, and you say “hey”?!

Scar: I love hearing Grian shouting at someone else. It makes such a nice change.

Scar: Any idiot would know that. Grian: I knew that! Scar: See?

Grian: I know this isn’t going to end well and I don’t care. So don’t you try and stop me, Scar! Scar: I wasn’t stopping you. I was asking if you had a spare camera so I can record this.

Grian, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be? Scar: Well, that's you. Grian: Me?! Is that what I look like? Scar: You don't know? Grian: Busy day.

Scar: hiding something in their coat I think we should adopt another kid! Grian: No. Scar: Why not? Grian: Because when you say “kid”, you mean “cat”, and we already have fifteen of those. Scar: unzips coat Sixteen.

Grian: Breaking News, Scar has disappointed us.

Grian: You are an absolute fucking dork. Scar, singing: Yeah, but I'm your dork! Grian: sighs Yeah, you're my dork.

Scar: You know how some people consider “may you have an interesting life” to be a curse? Grian: Yes…? Scar: Fuck those people. Wanna have an adventure?

Scar: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows. Grian: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

Scar: Okay, two person huddle. Grian: You can't huddle with two people. This is just a hug.

Grian: I couldn't do this without you, Scar. Scar: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

Grian: CHARACTER. FLAWS. ARE. FUCKING. IMPORTANT. Scar: Me when someone tells me to stop eating mayo packets like they’re gogurt tubes.

Grian: What's gone wrong, Scar? Scar: Hey! That’s one hell of a thing to say to a person. Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis. Grian: That’s technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling? Scar: Well… There’s a crisis.

Grian: I know one person who finds me funny! Scar: Okay, who?… and you can't say yourself! Grian: Okay then I'm out.

Grian: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Scar: I had a lizard that I burnt.

[elvearryn]

König + Horangi Headcanons

Regrettably, the brainrot has taken hold of me properly, so this was always going to be an inevitable post

(This is also a chance for me to compile and work out my characterization of these two, as a sort of warm-up exercise for writing them).

All SFW! Trigger warning for mention of scars, alcohol, gambling, violence (military), you know Call of Duty typical stuff

All the headcanons for each are separate for each character, a few mentions of Horangi in König’s list but that’s it

That being said, here are my headcanons for König and Horangi 🙏

Horangi bites the inside of his cheek when he’s thinking really hard or having an internal emotional tug of war about something, he actually developed this habit because he used to instinctively press his tongue against the inside area of his cheek that had been scarred (if you’ve seen the popular design where he has a scar from about the corner of his lip up to his cheekbone, and yeah. I like that concept a lot)

Horangi used to drink and smoke heavily, as part of his gambling days. He dropped that habit when he joined the military, and to this day absolutely resents heavy alcohol of any kind, but doesn’t actively avoid milder alcohol as much as he does the stronger stuff, he just doesn’t see the appeal in it anymore

Speaking of which, Horangi sucks at gambling, in fact he’s so terrible at it it’s a wonder he stayed in the business so long. He actually wound up so far in debt because he kept telling himself “it’s not statistically possible that I can never win.” So he kept trying to prove he was capable of winning (he wasn’t.) Eventually, he did quit, escaping debt by fleeing normal civilian life in the process

Horangi hasn’t touched gambling since, he’s wary of even simple card games (glances judgmentally at uno). Even if he still gets that itch sometimes, he curbs it by playing games that don’t involve luck at all

By that I mean Horangi loves strategy games. A downright freak about them even, this way he’s not risking any money on card games that might be rigged… (Horangi chess menace, anyone..? Not promising that he won’t try to cheat in checkers) and he swears like a sailor whenever he loses

Any rush Horangi used to get from gambling is gone anyway, nothing can compare to the adrenaline spike from being on missions. In comparison, gambling feels like a watered down high and a desaturated painting, it wasn’t anything like the vivid colors of the battle field experience… and even that could get boring sometimes…

(That is not encouragement to throw yourself into combat 💧)

Horangi loves silver jewelry, especially rings. But never wears anything gold or with gems on it, he prefers the sheen of silver, and thicker jewelry too, heavy banded rings and he actually considers his dog tags as something of a fashion statement… there was a point in his life where he had his ears pierced, and only ever wore silver or black for those, however the piercings have since closed up as they would have been a hindrance in his military work

When Horangi was a kid, he wanted to be able to skateboard, the kind of kid who thought kick flips and riding rails down the stairs was the coolest thing, unfortunately he was never really all that good on wheels, and didn’t have the time to master the hobby

(He sure as hell can snowboard though. Don’t ask me; it came to me in a vision)

Horangi was actually planning to get full tattoo sleeves on his arms, but discovered that he was somewhat unnerved by the constant jabbing of the ink needle when he got his wrists and forearms done the first time around, since then he’s been a little wary about getting more. It’s not that his pain tolerance is low, or that he’s scared of the process, he’s just kind of annoyed by the way it’s done and the time it takes since it leaves him with nothing to really do while he waits with the incessant jabbing of the needle… yeah, he’s not a fan

Horangi has scars on his back (tiger scars!!!) from his youth, they’re not pretty or nice to look at, all ridged flesh and awkward lines, he couldn’t sleep on his back for weeks while they healed; and even after that there was phantom pain.

Because of these scars, Horangi dislikes having his back to anyone even more than the usual soldier. Not because he got the scars in that way, but simply because he’s subconsciously aware of them being there and he doesn’t like the idea of having them out in the open (even though he knows they can’t be seen when he’s dressed)

Horangi likes to doodle, no he’s not a good artist, he just likes to scribble on things, drawing in the dirt with a stick when he was a kid kind of thing, always carries a pen with him and doodles when he’s bored

Horangi is a great swimmer, like athlete level good at it. Do not try to race him, he will win

Is an avid language enjoyer, Horangi actually likes exploring different languages and how they work phonetically as well as alphabetically. His English is remarkably good, even with his thick accent

On that note, Horangi’s penmanship is… less than perfect. Maybe a small case of doctor’s handwriting if you know what I mean. He tends to slant his words a bit, and it looks a little like chicken scratch, but it’s charming in its own right

Horangi likes rock and rap, I think when he was a teen he would have really liked No Brain, especially the song “내 가죽잠바 My Leather Jacket” as well as western heavy metal, though he likes rap and hip hop too, anything fast paced or with a heavy beat (guilty pleasure listening might be lighter r&b) if you saw Gangnam style in his playlist, no you didn’t

If Horangi played an instrument it would be electric guitar, but only as an excuse to shred until the callouses on his fingers split and he had to wait for new ones to develop

Horangi is selfless to a fault, he likes to think he wouldn’t go through hell and back for just about anyone when he knows deep down he would in a heartbeat, he’s always cared deeply about others, he just struggles a little to express it, very much more of a subdued affection kind of guy, shown through little actions instead of straightforward declarations which are a rarity, but do happen

Horangi likes the military because it gave him purpose and direction. And best of all- an outlet. What else was he supposed to do with his somewhat short fuse and need to release pent up energy? Bashing up enemy forces seemed a good enough way as any

Horangi takes his coffee black, americano. (Shamelessly stole this headcanon from his voice actor…)

Bonus :

(His words not mine, do with this information what you will)

Now… König is somewhat of a difficulty for me to work through, he’s a bit of a silly bastard I can say that much. Still working on disemboweling him to understand how he works so his list might be a bit shorter, but I’ll try my damndest

König is clumsy, not in a “whoops I fell down the stairs silly me…” way but in a “where the hell did I leave my keys..?” kind of way, which is funny because he always struck me as someone who pays attention to detail while also having situational blindness, like “holy shit there was a car right there” even when you could ask him what the arrangement of crates were in a cargo shipment and he could tell you exactly without needing to think hard about it

König is absolutely incapable of keeping himself still, one of the reasons he was denied the position of a sniper… whether it be literally twiddling his thumbs, or bouncing his leg, he is always moving one part of his body at any given time

Two words, bad liar… König is a terrible liar even, not even consciously he just isn’t good at not giving an honest answer, especially if it’s to people he’s comfortable being around. Shifting eyes, clenched jaw, kicked puppy sort of demeanor if he’s actively trying to withhold the truth, he’s bad at covering it up unless he’s annoyed, then he can evade giving a straight answer but otherwise he can be read like an open book

In terms of social interaction, König is not some sort of inept stuttering dork, rather I would simply describe him as a little out of his element in mundane social settings. He’s a menace on the field, and he’s comfortable with that, when he isn’t occupied with something physically or mentally demanding however… he’s a tad socially awkward. But he’s still brazen and a little cocky, albeit easily annoyed or flustered (not blushing wreck flustered, just at a loss for words and maybe a few confused blinks if anything)

König is also competitive and a bit of a grump honestly, he takes things personally and tends to overthink, maybe a bit of a bad habit that involves twisting things in his mind until they’re warped from what they initially were, but yeah he’s gonna take things as a challenge or a jab at his abilities (inferiority complex coming back with a vengeance in the form of feeling like he needs to prove himself constantly)

That’s not to say König isn’t a “gentle giant” he does have a soft spot and isn’t prone to picking fights himself, but he’s also… bipolar for lack of a better word, he would definitely treat something with the most tenderness his large hands can allow, but then turn around and obliterate an entire unit with a blind sort of unhinged arrogance that doesn’t take kindly to being rivaled

König is like a barely domesticated guard dog with self worth issues that present themselves through mild narcissism and social insecurity. Again, he’s a madman, just listen to his voicelines, Horangi may look insane on the outside but he’s actually relatively stable, König on the other hand is like a carefully constructed bridge made of entirely weak points that are holding themselves together by faint pressure and the whole thing is covered in tape that mask wounds instead of bandaids

If König played an instrument it would be drums, he needs to be able to bash on things, I think he would get frustrated with something like guitar or bass

König is a bit demanding with things he wants, and likes to think he can get what he wants with relatively little struggle, not that he’s a spoiled brat by any means, just that he sees something and goes “I want that.” And isn’t afraid to say that he wants it, and that’s basically saying “I intend to get it” but he also does have manners, and isn’t exactly extroverted, but he has an obvious sort of intensity about him that really shines on the field, he likes a good fight

(Que “Finally some worthy adversaries!” line)

König knows he’s strong and is confident in his abilities, but despite knowing this he still doesn’t take praise well. Or compliments, he’s all sure of his abilities until someone points out he did a good job and suddenly he has no idea what to say, similarly if he thinks he can handle something and voices that, and someone replies “yeah you’re right, you’ve got this” he’d be like “???” because he’s not used to the positive reciprocation, he’s used to only having himself and the physical proof that he can do things and do them well, so when someone points it out he’s at a loss

König is more likely to let German slip into his speaking than Horangi is to let Korean slip into his, König’s English also isn’t as good as Horangi’s

König is a little possessive and can get defensive too. Stems from his childhood, being picked on a bit he learned to keep his stuff close to him and be careful who he shares with if at all, and is not trusting even if on the outside he appears relatively open despite his social awkwardness

However, König likes having instructions and knowing what exactly needs to be done, he’s organized and likes not always having to make a lot of complex decisions— the structure of the military gives him a way to keep himself occupied in this manner. And he likes feeling like he has a use, even if it’s not exactly what he wanted

(He’s still bitter about not being a sniper).

König’s handwriting is surprisingly nice, it’s neat and simple, but he doesn’t write paper and pencil often, in fact he usually records numbers and data if anything, and types everything else. He likes using digital tablets

König takes his coffee sweet, and doesn’t care about the temperature, he’ll drink coffee that started out warm and sat out long enough to get cold.

Rammstein fan? König is guilty. Also loves Slipknot and Korn. Orange Sector fan to the end too. His guilty pleasure is instrumental music. (Sometimes he and Horangi share their music with one another)

König wears his hair long (not super long, just a little unkempt and about jaw length), and he has stubble. He keeps his hair tied in a low bun for missions, on leave and for downtime he’ll tie the bun higher

König is shockingly loyal, like makes a conscious effort to be loyal to people, and is surprisingly thoughtful about little things that others wouldn’t really pay much mind too. It’s sort of a subconscious thing actually, he remembers a lot of insignificant stuff for no real reason, it just sticks

In König’s mind, he has a few jokes he came up with that he thinks are hilarious but has never had a chance to say them and is also a little doubtful other people would be as amused as him, so he keeps them to himself.

(Horangi might luck out one day)

Cough… and that’s all!! I’ll update this if I ever think of any more. But yeah, that’s all I got. Hope you enjoyed

[dh1k]

Morning w Hisoka

Summary: morning with your clingy boyfriend.

Note: my english not so good. May be some mistakes.

cw: fluff, clingy!Hisoka, cuddling.

Word count: 654

You wake up because you can’t breathe. You opened your eyes and discovered Hisoka literally lying on top of you. He half sprawled on top of you, throwing his leg over yours and his head resting on your chest.

“Hisoka” you said and shoving him a little bit.

No reaction. But you know very well that big, sneaky fox is faking it. It was every time when Hisoka got bored in the morning, he'd pounce on you with his whole body to wake you up.

“Hisoka... I know you're awake. Get off me" you once again hoped it would help.

The red-haired fox is overly tactile, especially in the morning. He never misses an opportunity to take you into his arms while the two of you are snuggling in bed. But sometimes there are days like this one, when he unceremoniously lies on top of you with no plans to get up.

At your voice and the rustling of the sheets, your little cat came running in. He sat down on the bedside table and watched you.

Looking at this little ball of fur, you thought about the fact that you have two cats living at home. Both of them always need attention and care.

Still, even though Hisoka's nature is more like a fox. In the morning, he's like a cat looking for affection.

You shifted your gaze back to him. You ran your hand through his hair and gently ran it over his scalp, massaging it lightly, knowing how much he liked it.

“Hisoka, you're awake. Get off me, or at least move over a little. You're heavy" the third attempt this morning was successful.

He got off you and lay down next to you with his arm resting on his head. His golden eyes stared into yours, and he had his usual smirk on his face. He looked at the cat sitting on the table for a second, and as soon as cat saw Hisoka looking at him, he ran to him.

You always wondered if he was more fond of Hisoka, though he's a little prankster, more like his master than his mistress. Sometimes the two of them look at you with their golden eyes with the same squint, and it's annoying.

“Good morning" you said, while Hisoka looked at you and stroked the cat’s ear.

“Morning" Hisoka said sweetly, as usual, but with a hint of resentment.

You knew he was going to act offended now, because he doesn't like it when you ask him to get off your back. While you looked at each other, the redhead had managed to settle at the end of the bed and fall asleep. Your silence was interrupted by a sigh from Hisoka, who turned away from you. It was a trivial action of his in the morning when you didn't want to cuddle with him.

With a sniffle, you moved closer to him, running your fingers along his broad back, crossing over his ribs and tickling him lightly. All you got from Hisoka was a hum. You both know it's just a little mockery of each other, but it feels different every time. This time, there's more tenderness in your touch and more playfulness in his sighs.

“Hisoka, turn to me" you asked, knowing he wouldn't.

You climbed over him and lay down beside him. He looked at you, pretending he was still hurt.

“Fine, I know how you want to cuddle and" you weren't allowed to finish your sentence. Hisoka rolled over to the other side along with you in a hug.

“Okay, shh. Stop talking”.

You rolled your eyes. And accepted your fate of being almost strangled in man's arms.

Your sessions of affection can go on into the evening, until you slap Hisoka's ass and tell him it's time to get up. And as usual, you'll get an unwilling face that will follow you to the kitchen anyway.