#long time followers might actually know what i'm painting here- I painted it once before 5 years ago....

[nebulaeyedfish]

Exciting news! @taz-balance-zine is releasing soon which means I can show you a snippit of what i've been working on! I wonder what they're all looking at...

[whorekneecentral]

max baby fever is real actually… enemies to lovers hatefucking but you guys eventually become fwb and then BOOM suddenly youre married but the sexual tension never leaves and then you have a tiny baby lion

- 🐣

it’s the baby lion for me 🥺

working for red bull was no easy task. especially the weekend after weekend of scrutiny. surely, people had their reasons but its still a pain in the ass. 

you were a press officer for the team, you covered the general press handlings; approving press releases, statements, team appearances etc. but recently, you were stuck working with max as his old press officer was on maternity leave. 

max was the biggest pain in your side, you don’t think you’ve ever worked with a driver that was so irritating. 

over the course of the season, things got better. max sort of mellowed out and only became a little tense during the last race. it was down to the wire between here and lewis as to who was going to win the championship.

the was exactly what the team had been looking for and the celebration was beyond anything you could imagine. the drinks were following and one by one, the cans stacked up. 

you and max some how ended up in the same elevator after everything, the two of you had too many drinks and ended up all over each other. stumbling back to the room, hands all over each other and clothes all over the floor and you two spent the rest of the night in bed together. 

from that night, it spiralled into more. you and max ended up going back and forth over the break, sneaking around together for a bit before the season started. 

you two continued through the racing season; longing looks, hidden kisses and touches, the extra long hugs when he wins. 

at some point after the summer break, his press officer returns from maternity leave, and you go back to your regular duties, which means now you can announce that you're dating without there being a conflict of interest.

the dates were like no other, how many women can say they get to travel the world with the person they love and go on dates around the world every other weekend? 

you and max were in brazil this weekend, the season to last race when he rolled over in bed. “hey,” he whispers and you look over at him. 

you were doing some work in bed, max was settling in for the night. he rested a little velvet box on your laptop and you looked at him, confused. “what's this?” 

“open it.” he tells you, so you do. inside is a ring, a fat emerald cut diamond set on a slightly thick gold band. 

“max,” you look over at him and he smiles. “I know you didn’t want a big proposal but I can still get on my knees if you want.”

you shook your head but he pulls the ring out, reaching for your hand. “will you marry me?” 

“yeah,” you giggled, you can feel the tears when you lean over to kiss him, the cold band pressed to his cheek once it was on your finger. 

your laptop and max going to sleep was long forgotten. a tangle of limbs, clothes all over the floor, the blankets were kicked to the end of the bed. 

“I cannot wait to marry you,” he whispers to you, your legs wrapped around his waist. “might be the wrong time but just letting you know I'm keeping my last name.” 

your wedding was nothing if not picture perfect, as was your honeymoon. 

you two had a week to yourselves, a little villa on the amalfi coast. max was determined that you two would be starting your family sooner than later and that’s exactly was he was up too. 

“gonna put a baby in you, pretty girl.” 

“that’s my girl, take it so well. made just for me.” 

“look so pretty full of me.” 

and surely enough, about 3 months post honeymoon and you found out you were having a baby. you were both beyond ecstatic. 

max was more into the baby planning, nursery thing that you were so you let him take charge. 

turns out the little boy was getting a jungle themed nursery and in the centre of the mural painted on the wall was a lion, the king of the jungle. 

the months roll by and now you’ve got your own little lion, most weekends it killed max to be away from you two but the little one was too little to travel so many miles, though you two did go to the monaco gp to surprise him. 

most nights when he came in, he changed off and went straight to check on the little man, you got booted to second place. 

more often than not, you find max sleeping in the rocking chair with your baby boy in his arms. 

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could you do a black cat x male reader? Like black cat sees someone flirting with him and gets jealous but they aren’t together yet so she brushes it off

Combining with the request: Felicia Hardy x gn! Reader? Where we catch her stealing a jewel or something

Danielle Rose Russell used as a fancast

Felicia Hardy x GN!Reader (masc leaning but no pronouns used)

Felicia Hardy always got what she wanted and what she wanted from you was your family's priceless jewels.

She knew this was going to be a long con, spending the better part of a year playing dress up pretending to be one of Manhattan's most coveted socialites while slowly getting closer and closer to her prize.

She clawed her way into your inner circle, joining you at exclusive wine tastings and days out on your yacht.

Everything was going to plan although somewhere along the way she ended up falling for you.

You weren't like the pretentious pricks she was used to, when you spoke to her you genuinely listened to what she had to say and you never once made any attempts at unwanted advances onto her.

Was she starting to regret her scheme?

She showed up to a party at your mansion in an extravagant black dress that had everyone's eyes on her, including yours.

"Felicia, so happy you made it," you smile, handing her a glass of wine, "and might I add you look absolutely beautiful."

Why did that give her butterflies in the pit of her stomach?

"Thank you Y/N, you look quite handsome tonight as well in that suit you're sporting," she replies quickly downing the glass of wine to calm her nerves.

"Bad day?" You chuckle.

"Something like that, how are you?" She says looking around for any server supplying alcohol.

"It's never a bad day when I'm with you," you state.

She was definitely going to need more wine.

The night goes on and while you would much rather be spending it with Felicia you do your due diligence talking with as many of your guests as you could.

Felicia is completely zoned out of her conversation with some creep stock broker terribly hitting on her with her attention solely on you… and the girl you're laughing with.

She thinks her name is Vanessa, she's seen her at some parties before, never spoken to her before she's noticed the way she looks at you.

This is a new feeling for her, is this what it feels like to be jealous?

Felicia huffs when you lean in close to whisper something in Vanessa's ear, the heist was now back on and in full swing.

She doesn't even bother exiting the conversation with the stock broker with some polite goodbye; she just walks away leaving him confused and his equally douchey friends laughing at him.

You see Felicia heading towards the set of stairs the guests are roped off from that lead up to the bedrooms and you excuse yourself from Vanessa to follow her.

Upstairs Felicia easily finds the safe behind a painting in your private study containing your family's jewels which she canvassed out multiple times on her previous visits to your residency.

She cracks the safe but is shocked to find nothing inside.

"Looking for something?"

Felicia turns around to see you standing in the doorway with a grin.

"Y/N I-" she starts.

"Am a world class thief? Yes I know," you say approaching her.

"How long have you known?" She asks.

"A while, I don't just let anyone into my inner circle, I do my research so I know exactly how all these rich assholes want to use me to make themselves richer," you explain.

"If you knew I wanted to steal from you, why did you let me in?"

"Because you're not like them Felicia, you're actually interesting and way smarter than any of those so called intellects down there. I put the jewels in a secure safety deposit box months ago, I've been waiting for the day I'd find you up here," you tell her.

"So you were playing the long con too I see," she says.

"And it was well worth the wait," you tease, getting closer to her, "did you finally snap because of Vanessa?"

Felicia gulps, your faces only inches from each other.

"She's just a family friend, we've known each other since we were three but I do enjoy knowing she made you jealous," you tease.

"This isn't how this was supposed to happen," Felicia mutters.

"Which part? The part where you steal my jewels or the part where I finally kiss you," you ask confidently which turns her on even more.

"Both."

You laugh and pin her to your desk, roughly kissing her.

She hops up onto your desk, wrapping her legs around your waist and pushing your suit jacket off of your shoulders.

You may have been busy exploring each other's bodies but Felicia was already thinking of a plan to find this safety deposit box you mentioned and you were already thinking of where to hide the jewels next.

This was a con the two of you were definitely in for the long run.

[forest-hashira]

Lip Gloss

hello lovelies!!! i am back once again with more transfem gojo bc she's the love of my life. this fic doesn't have anything to do with her birthday, but it is in honor of it!

i sat on this one a little too long (most of it was written weeks ago and then i got distracted,,, and then i finished this at like 3 in the morning whoops) so i'm not as crazy about this one as i was about the ither two. regardless, i hope you all enjoy it!

pairing: gojo satoru/reader

content: transfem gojo, gender neutral reader, fluff, first time buying/using makeup, nothing actually happens but gojo gets a little flustered when you touch her lol

wc: ~2.8k

read on ao3 here!

After painting her nails, Satoru seemed more and more interested in making changes to her appearance, though she was still unsure about where she wanted to start. 

“Why don’t we stick with non-permanent changes for now?” you suggested. 

“Like what?”

“I could help you with makeup, if you wanted to start wearing any.”

She blinked dumbly for a moment, then tilted her head as she gazed up at you from where her head rested in your lap. “Like eyeliner and stuff?”

“Yeah, like eyeliner and stuff,” you agreed, gently stroking her hair from her eyes. “But you don’t have to wear any if you don’t want to. Plenty of women don’t wear makeup.”

She seemed to consider for a few moments, still holding your gaze. “I think makeup is a good next step. Do you have any I could borrow?” 

“Well, it depends on what you want to start with,” you began with a slight shrug. “I’m more than happy to let you try out my lip products and blushes and such, but it’s not a good idea to share things like mascara and eyeliner.”

“Why not?” she pouted. You just smiled at her.

“Because it could give us both pinkeye.”

“...Oh.” Satoru blushed lightly then, clearly not having expected such a serious reason.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “But I’ll help you find some of your own, don’t worry. And yes, I’ll teach you how to use all of it,” you added, practically seeing the question as it formed in her brain.

She smiled a bit bashfully up at you, her eyes twinkling with love. “You know me so well,” she said, catching the hand you’d been using to play with her hair and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

You felt your face warm slightly, the combination of her soft touch and affectionate demeanor causing you to feel a little fuzzy inside. “I try my best,” you said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed your hand back, kissing your knuckles again softly before she sat up. “So. Drugstore?” she asked, her eyes bright and hopeful.

You stifled your smile, pretending to consider her words for a moment. When a pout began to form on her lips, though, you relented. “Yeah, we can go see what kinds of makeup they have.”

Satoru practically bounced off the bed in her excitement, grabbing her sunglasses before rushing out of the room, calling over her shoulder for you to hurry up. 

Her actions pulled a small laugh from you, and you shook your head slightly as you pushed yourself off the bed, grabbing your bag as you followed her to the door. 

“You always take so long to catch up,” she complained, peeking at you through her hair, over the tops of her glasses. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed half heartedly, easily sliding your shoes on. “Do you want me to go with you or not?”

She did want you to go with her, obviously, since she doesn’t know the first thing about doing her own makeup, much less what products she should start with. 

The pair of you wound up back at the same drug store where you had bought the sorceress’s first nail polish. Satoru had thought the nail polish display was overwhelming, but when she realized that not every makeup product fit on the same aisle, she looked like she might pass out. 

“There’s so much…” she said quietly, her expression more than a little lost as she looked around. 

“We’ll start easy,” you promised, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Let’s look at lipgloss, yeah?”

Your girlfriend agreed wordlessly, giving a slight nod and letting you pull her over to the lip products. You looked over the options in silence for a moment, then turned to Satoru to explain things to her. 

“I know you still want to keep this between us for now,” you started, and Satoru nodded in agreement, pulling her eyes away from the display to look at you as you spoke. “So I would suggest something really subtle. No bold colors or anything yet.”

“Okay. Is there, uh… what color do you think would look good on me?” A light blush dusted her cheeks as she spoke, and she looked away from you bashfully. 

A soft smile tugged at your lips at her behavior. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you want to have one you could wear out of the house without drawing too much attention? Or do you want one to play around with at home?”

She considered your words for a moment. “One of each, I guess,” she eventually answered. 

“Your best bet for something to wear out of the house would be a clear gloss,” you said right away, looking around the display for a moment before you spotted a clear gloss from your favorite brand. Plucking it from the shelves, you offered it to her. “This brand is my favorite, but you can get a different brand if you want.”

“What does it do? I mean, if there’s no color, why would you wear it?” Satoru accepted the gloss from you, looking over the packaging as she spoke. 

You have a slight shrug. “Not much. It makes your lips look shiny, makes ‘em a little softer, too, sometimes. A lot of people will put a clear gloss over a colored lipstick so it’ll look shiny, but I don’t think you’re quite ready for that yet.”

You half expected the woman to argue with you about it, insist she was ready for anything and to let her at it, but all she did was nod in agreement. “Okay, clear gloss for going out,” she repeated, mostly to herself. “And now a colored one for home?”

The process of selecting a lip gloss color didn’t take as long as picking a nail polish color had, and for that you were privately relieved; the longer the pair of you hung around the beauty section, the more likely it was that you could garner unwanted attention. Even though Satoru wasn’t a man, she still very much presented like one, and men didn’t usually spend this much time looking at makeup, even if they were with a partner. 

The snowy haired wonder eventually settled on a soft peachy color, just a couple shades darker than the natural color of her lips, and she seemed proud of herself for her choice. “Can we look at eyeliner now?” 

“Of course, baby.” You led her to the next aisle over, and as you began to scan the selection, you were disappointed but not surprised to find your only options were brown or black, which you told your partner. 

“We can get you one of those colors if you want, but I think it would stick out more, since you don’t have dark eyelashes,” you advised, turning away from the shelves. 

“They make white eyeliner?” She sounded surprised, but her eyes sparkled at the idea. 

You laughed softly, affectionately. “Yeah, some companies do, but we’d probably have to order it online. Do you want to do that? Or do you want to get a darker color?”

“If we can find white I think I’d prefer that.”

The nod you gave in return was easy, and you ushered her a few steps further down the aisle, where you reached the same dilemma as you had with the eyeliner. 

“Is white mascara even a thing?”

“Yeah, some companies that make white eyeliner will also have white mascara,” you confirmed. “But we could also try and find you a more lightweight product, probably some sort of clear gel, if you’d rather do that.”

This time, Satoru seemed less sure of an answer. “Let’s just see what we can find online when we get home,” she said after a few moments of consideration. 

“We can definitely do that.”

The bright smile she shot you practically melted your heart, and you were relieved to see her shoulders relax a bit. “Anything else you want to look for while we’re here?”

She shook her head almost immediately, and you were once again enamored by the way her soft, frosty hair shifted back and forth across her forehead. “No, I’m happy with this for now,” she assured you, holding the two tubes of lip gloss up slightly. 

If she was happy, you were happy, so you began to lead her towards the checkout again. You spotted something out of the corner of your eye on an aisle endcap as you walked, though, and you paused, turning to look at it. When you realized what it was, though, you inhaled a soft gasp of delight. “Ooh, Toru look!”

“What is it?” she asked, stopping and turning with you. When she did, she noticed the small collection of soft elastic headbands adorned with animal ears. “Those are cute,” she agreed, glancing away from the headbands and over at you. 

“Can we get a couple?” you asked hopefully, looking over at Satoru and sticking out your bottom lip slightly, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Pleeease, Toru? We can use them together!”

“For what?” she asked, tilting her head slightly; to anyone else the question may have sounded condescending, but you could tell she was genuinely curious. 

“When we do skincare and makeup together! It’ll help keep the hair out of our faces and everything.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, we can get a couple.” Her expression softened as you practically squealed with excitement. 

“Thank you! Okay, now, which one do you want?” you asked, expression growing a bit more serious as you examined the options again. “What about this one?” Without giving her a chance to respond, you grabbed a white headband that had cat ears on it, holding it up to her. “It matches you best, I think.” 

Now it was her turn to melt. All Satoru could do was nod in agreement; she didn’t really have a preference to begin with, so she was more than happy to let you pick for her. 

“Which one do you think I should get?” you asked next, seeming much less sure on that front. 

Wanting to give you the same consideration you had given her, she looked over the options, and after a moment, she selected a brown headband with little bear ears on it. “What about this one?”

“I remind you of a bear?” you asked, looking from the headband to your girlfriend’s face, your nose crinkled slightly at the idea. 

Satoru nodded. “Yeah. You’re like a teddy bear, all soft and cuddly with me. It’s cute.”

Her words left you feeling a little flustered, cheeks growing warm. “Okay. I’ll get that one, then.”

She let you take the headband from her then, a slightly lovestruck expression on her face as she followed you to the checkout. 

You paid for everything again, despite her protests, but she quieted down again when you took her hand for the walk back to the apartment. 

“Do you still want to see if we can find you some white eyeliner and mascara online?” you asked her after you’d gotten home again, slipping your shoes off and nudging them back into their proper spot. 

“Is it okay if we wait a little bit on that?” Satoru asked, biting her lip lightly as she glanced over at you. “I think I want to get used to wearing the lip gloss before I buy anything else.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you assured her. “We’re doing this at your pace, remember? Just want you to be happy, princess.”

The sorceress went the prettiest shade of pink at your words, and she nodded slightly, offering a quiet and slightly flustered “thanks.”

Deciding against teasing her for blushing, you took her hand, leading her back to the bedroom and sitting her down on the bed. “Let’s see what that tinted gloss looks on you,” you suggested, though you waited until she agreed to dig through the bag to grab the small bottle. 

She stared up at you with wide eyes as you stood between her legs, smiling down at her sweetly. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as you reached up and removed the sunglasses from her face, settling them carefully on the bedside table before turning back to her. 

“You ready, princess?” you asked softly, rubbing your knuckles lightly along her cheek; you wanted to make sure Satoru was comfortable with every step of her transition process, even something as small as trying lip gloss for the first time in the privacy of her own home. When she nodded at your words, you relaxed slightly. 

“Part your lips for me,” you instructed softly, subconsciously parting your own. When she seemed a bit unsure about the directions, though, you took her chin in your hand, thumb pressing lightly on her bottom lip and tugging her bottom jaw down the tiniest bit until her lips were parted like you needed. “Like this.”

Though her blush had died down a bit from when you’d arrived home, you could see that it had returned high across her cheeks, and her eyes were slightly dilated. You felt a bit of heat rising in your own cheeks at the way she looked at you, and you bit your lip as you released her chin from your grasp, instead beginning to twist the top off of the tube of lip gloss. “Satoru,” you sighed, hoping you didn’t sound as flustered as you felt. “Be good, okay? None of that right now.” 

When you met her gaze again, you felt a bit more in control of yourself, and you couldn’t help but giggle softly at the obedient nod your girlfriend gave you. Once you were confident she was going to behave and hold still for you, you pulled the cap away from the rest of the tube, making sure the applicator had a good amount of gloss on it before gently swiping it across her bottom lip. You were careful to keep the gloss just on her lips, not wanting to make a mess of it, and after a moment you put the top back on the tube.

You showed Satoru how to rub her lips together in a way that would distribute the product across her lips a little better, then used the applicator to touch up a few spots that needed it. 

“You always look pretty,” you told her quietly. “But right now you look even more like a princess. Do you want to see?”

She nodded eagerly at your words, white strands of hair dancing around her face at the movement. “Yes, please.”

A smile tugged at your lips at her response, and you turned to pull the little mirror out of the drawer in your bedside table, though you were stopped when you felt something press into you a little harder. You glanced down to see what it was, and were a little surprised to see your girlfriend’s hands resting on your hips; you weren’t sure when they’d gotten there, but you’d apparently been so focused on your task that you hadn’t noticed. 

You said nothing about the placement of her hands, just smiled to yourself a bit more as you opened the drawer, shuffling around for a moment before pulling out the little hand mirror and offering it to Satoru. “What do you think?”

Satoru accepted the mirror as you offered it to her, somewhat reluctantly removing her hands from your hips in the process. She tore her gaze away from your face to examine her own in her reflection, and what she saw made her freeze for a moment. All in all, she didn’t really look that different from how she looked at work every day, but something about the enhanced peachiness of her lips had her transfixed, and her eyes widened slightly as she stared at herself silently in the mirror. 

Her silence began to make you feel a bit anxious the longer it stretched on, and eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. “Baby?” you called gently. “Do you like it? If you don’t, that’s okay. You can take it off and you don’t have to wear it again.”

The words seemed to snap her back to reality, and she looked up at you again, eyes still wide and slightly awestruck. “I really do look pretty, don’t I?” she asked quietly, unable to help the slow smile that spread across her lips at the thought. 

Relief crashed over you as she finally gave you an answer, and returning her bright smile was easy. “You always do,” you assured her, gently taking her chin between your fingers again and angling her face enough for you to kiss her soft, plush lips. “My pretty pretty princess.”

anyways happy birthday to my babygirl!!! ilysm toru

also the headbands will come into play in a later installment i promise

[covencupid]

I Want You (or The Cabin Story)

Fair warning, I wrote this on discord and then copy pasted it onto docs, so if there are some inconsistencies I apologize, but maybe I just like to keep ya on your toes.

BIG THANKS to @mamamemequeen because I pretty much wrote this in the DMs oopsi.

Danny's had his eye on you. He's been finding himself enjoying the times he interacts with you a little too much. He's got to get you out of his system. A little house call. Once that's done it'll be easier for him to go for the kill. Right?

Pairing: Danny Johnson X Fem!Reader. Use of gendered language.

TW/CW: The usual (stalking, manipulation, threats of violence, actual violence) gore, descriptions of torture, corpses, and murder. Psychological horror, child murder (imma need you to hold your judgement on this one, it's not what you think, but it's also not good), hallucinations, descriptions of visual hallucinations.

Tags will be updated as needed, but to be honest I kinda forgot what I put in this.

I will be posting as much as I can in one go, but it's long, so I might have to upload in parts. Yeah, I'm definitely posting it in parts. This is chapter one.

Word Count is 15k+, this was supposed to be a one-shot about y'all fuckin at the drive-in, I don't know how it happened.

Oh one last thing, there is kinda a prequel/backstory part I haven't finished about Danny and "prom". Whatever you think it is, it's probably not gonna be like that.

Sorry one last last thing that I'm seeing now reformatting this from discord to the docs to here is that I kinda wrote Danny and Reader's POV back and forth but a little inconsistent. I will try to make the changes in POV a little clearer with spacing, but I apologize for any confusion!

Your Place // The Cabin // The Woods

~I Want You~

~Chapter One - Your Place~

Danny waited for the perfect night. A storm was coming. The whole neighborhood was snuggled up tight in their big warm beds and you? You were painting your nails while a gorey Japanese B-Movie played on the small tv in your bedroom. You had no idea you were being stalked, hunted like a deer in the forest. 

Danny had to stop and take a look at you first, before he went in. He saw you, legs bent to give you a place to rest your hands while you painted them. God, your legs. He watched the light of the film dance off your legs, following the glow that reached your thighs. How it faded as it dipped to the little peek of your ass from the bottom of your shorts where you sat. He swallowed harder than he meant to. He’d have to readjust himself before he continued inside.

Danny waltzed into your home from the back patio door. Unlocked? Baby there’s a killer on the loose. He stepped into the dark entry way, noting how little the sound from your room carried. That would be useful. He eased into your hallway hearing the lovely lilt of your laughter as he neared your door. The sound made him salivate. He plucked a delicate metal frame of a vintage botanical illustration and let it fall to the floor as he swiftly crossed past your door to the opposite end of the hallway. In a second you were out and making your way for the pesky little frame.

“God you little shit!” you scolded the picture. You had complained to your friend about the framed piece you had been gifted that had a nasty little habit of slipping off it’s nail. Always a bit too heavy. Danny breezed into your room while you degraded the drawing of little flowers. Too easy. You’re just letting me right in, huh?

“And you better keep it down out there!” you called out to the frame as you shut your door on the way back. When your head whipped back to your bed your heart jumped to your throat and fell back down to your gut. A howling ghost stared back at you, reclined in your bed, your nail polish in hand.

“H-how did y-you-” you struggled to find your words and he, seemingly mercifully, cut you off.

“Get in? You let me in, sweetheart. Thanks by the way, really saved me time.” You could feel his smug smile radiating from underneath his mask. Dread chilled your veins. You were frozen by the door. As much as Danny enjoyed the doe-eyed look of fear you were giving him, you were too far for his liking. He pat the bed beside him. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

For a moment it felt like you lost all ability to move. You lifted your right foot to take a step forward but your leg unexpectedly shook. Before you could process your involuntary movement you heard a laugh from the hooded figure lounging in your bed. “How can I have your legs shaking when I haven’t even touched you?”

Heat spread across your cheeks, breaking through the ice in your veins. Indignation rising in your chest.

“You- You’re a murderer! Showing up here in my bed, I’m gonna be scared! It has nothing to do with- I am not-” The words flowed out from your mouth faster than you could string them together cohesively. The sound of his rippling laughter cut you off. You wanted to slap him and wipe off the smug look you knew he was wearing. He crossed his arms

“Hey! Do I look like a threat to you? I’m just hanging out here. Lookin for a manicure, and maybe a better movie.”

You scoffed. “I can see your knife holster from here, not exactly “hanging out” gear. And for the record Blossom of Blood is a cult classic, not that you would know anything about it.”

Danny leaned forward. “First of all, how do you know I’m not just happy to see you? Second, no. You’re thinking of Bloody Blossom, what you’ve got is the cheap knock off made ten years later. Get your facts straight before trying to get all snobby with me.”

You mouth gaped open and closed like a fish. The nerve of this psycho to break into your home and lecture you about your movie choices.

“Hey” The aforementioned psycho snapped at you. Patting the bed next to him more aggressively. You inched your way closer to him. You felt uneasy looking down at him the moment you reached the bed. He sat comfortably nestled in your plush pillows, using a stuffed animal to prop up his arm. You wanted to beat him over the head with it. It would likely be your final act on this earth, but you felt you would feel at peace. “Sit.” There was no space for argument in his tone. Not exactly a command, but still decidedly firm. You sat where he told you to and began to look intently at your hands, gripping each other tight. From your periphery you could see the black mass of his form lean in to loom over you. You felt him delicately take your chin between his thumb and forefinger with his gloved hand. The skin on your arms pricked up with goosebumps. He’s turning your head to look at him as he’s telling you in a sing-song tone “look at me”.

You stare, wide eyes welling up with tears you wanted to keep hidden, into the black holes of his mask. You wish to look so far into them to reach the eyes you felt boring into you. As your eyes remained locked on him, he plucked your hand from your own grip to place the bottle of nail polish in your palm.

“Go on.” he said as he reclined back into your bed, crossing his feet as he extended a gloved hand out at you.

“Uh- you want me to-?” you looked between the bottle of polish and the masked man before you.

“I said I’m here for a manicure, sweets. Come on and make it nice or ya know…” he wiggled the hunting knife in your face. You gasped and grabbed his other hand in an instant. He chuckled as you held his large gloved hand with your comparatively small one. You held the polish right next to it. Does he want me to take off his glove? Paint the fingers? No, right?

Sensing your conflict, he wiggled his fingers in your face. “You can take it off.” He teased.

You put the polish down beside you as you worked the glove off his hand. You placed it on your lap. You felt hot, feeling his eyes rake over you as you gently held his hand, surprisingly warm. The tips of your fingers lightly grazed over his and felt the callouses there. You felt flushed. A killer walks into your room at night… and he tells you to paint his nails? He’s insane. You laid his hand on your lap as you picked the bottle of black nail polish back up and twisted the top off. You held the bottle between your thighs and picked his hand back up slightly. Your hands shook slightly as the applicator neared his nail bed. When you finally laid the first coat down you felt like you could breathe a sigh of relief.

Danny, feeling your unsteady breath reach the top of his hand, blurted out “Don’t fuck up!” quick enough to make your heart jump.

“Fuck! Don’t do that, that’s gonna make me fuck up!” You gripped his hand a little tighter. The feeling of your soft, warm hands on his sent a wave of heat course through him. He chuckled. As you were about to paint the next nail he quickly pulled his hand back and held it in front of you. A small sound of annoyance got caught in your throat. He reached his hand back out to you but pulled it back when you reached for it. You were getting flustered. The way your brows knotted together as the speckles of blush played on your cheeks was just delightful. It was so easy to work you up. He extended his hand out to you again. You stared at him for a second before going to reach back out for him. You looked between his hand and himself in rapid fire succession until you went to get his hand. In an instant he went to whip back his hand but you slammed your free palm into his and gripped his hand firmly until his fingers softly folded over yours. His fingertips rested on the back of your hand. A soft, self satisfied smile danced on your lips as you plucked the applicator back up to paint the next nail. Danny felt the grip you maintained on him. Firm, warm, tender. As you painted the rest of his nails, his thumb slowly ran along the side of your hand, down to graze your wrist. You just needed his thumb, but it continued it’s slow glide along your skin. What were you feeling? Annoyance for sure, he wants something done and won’t even stop moving to let you do it. But the way his thumb caressed the stretch of skin he was able to reach, you felt a flutter in your belly. Stop, what are you even thinking. His hunting knife is dangerously close to his free hand. But should you tell him to stop? Should you try painting it as it teases the delicate flesh of your wrist? Should you tell him he has to stop, so you can paint his nail. And then? Let him continue? Let him run the freshly painted hand up your arm, up to your neck, down to your- Stop. Just. Stop, what are you thinking? This is a monster, in your bed, in your grasp. Think like you want to make it out alive.

Danny can see the muscles of your throat straining as his thumb stroked up and down. It was getting harder to just have you there sitting in front of him. He was beginning to need to close the distance between you. He noted how intently your eyes watched his thumb dance over your skin. You looked entranced, he wanted to see that pretty face up close. Danny thought about his options. The pros and cons flittered about his head but the most overwhelming image was of you, those pretty legs straddling him as his freshly painted hand gripped the creamy flesh of your thigh. Feeling your palm turn clammy, his grip on your hand turned into a vice as he pulled you down to him with a force that wrenched a yelp from your lips. That was nice. He thought. Oh the sounds you could make for him. His other hand went to grip your waist. Your left leg sat between his as the sudden movement had jerked you haphazardly over him.

“What the fuck?” you managed out as you tried to pull yourself up from the place on his chest where your head landed. He smelled like leather and oak. Something else too, slightly sweet mixed with something metallic. Your free hand helped you gain some leverage on the bed. His hand on your waist went down to pat the side of your thigh.

“Move this over, straddle me.” the words made you blush, this time obvious and bright.

You sat uneasily on his lap, scared to put your full weight on him. Modesty? How cute. Danny mused as he grabbed you by your hips and forced you to sit on him. A little gasp escaped you from the force. Danny was drinking you up. The incredulous look on your face, the way your hands fell to his chest for stability. Fuck. Restraint was going to prove much more difficult.

You felt frozen in place. What the fuck. What in the actual ever loving fuck? The screams coming from the movie on your left made it feel all the more surreal. They were pitched up and down and underscored by a synth that harmonized with the wails. Normally this would be your favorite part to point out to the people who you would (force to) watch this with. Usually met with strained smiles and equally strained eyebrows raised to the hairline. You forgave the expression on account of the dizzying fifteen minute chase scene that preceded it. You acquiesced that it was "a bit much" for the casual viewer, but damn was it beautifully shot. God, you wanted to feel normal again. Movies, and painting your nails, your nails. Not the nails of some psycho freak that is making himself comfortable on your bed. He got mud on your sheets. You wanted to reach your hands just a bit forward, just enough to reach his neck and strangle him. But his chest felt broad, sturdy, and his grip felt strong. You didn't like your odds in that fights. He didn't feel threatening though, hunting knife aside. He felt like a boyfriend trying to turn a movie date frisky. God, what are you even thinking. Be normal for the love of everything good.

You defaulted to your brand of normalcy. "The screams in this scene were pitched up and down according to their tone. If you pay attention you can hear that they added a synth to subtly harmonize with the screaming." The words just tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. You weren't even looking at him. Your eyes were locked on the screen glowing bright with scenes of carnage.

For all of the cruelties Danny had doled out, this was true torture. With the glow of the television illuminating her, she looked absolutely divine astride him. He wanted to see those pretty lips part and recite his name like a prayer, instead he heard her mumble out a little fun fact about the movie he was currently ignoring. He wanted to see those lips move again, closer this time. Danny grabbed at her wrists and pulled her down to be inches away from the mask that hid his cheeky grin. Her forearms were resting on his chest, her hands gripped in fists under his chin. "Tell me again, about your movie."

No, no, no. This is not normal, we are actively walking far, far away from normal. Fuck, he's got my hands restrained. His grip is so strong. The angle he had brought you down to made you arch your hips down. Is that? Oh. You felt him. You wanted to ignore it, to ignore him. The masked killer that was terrorizing your town, a man reacting to you atop him. Your body reacting to being on top of him. What are we doing here? What are you even thinking right now. This is not the time for biological responses, he's a killer! He's not a regular guy.

He pat your thigh at your lack of response. "Hello? Movie? Synths and screams?" You felt his fingers flutter at your hip. You tried to collect yourself.

"Right they- uh the director had them mix in synths kind of like a vocoder to play ben-" a sudden movement jolted you out of your train of thought. He had rolled his hips up as he lifted his legs up. The movement, deliberate and drawn out, elicited a yelp in response from you. With the way it had pressed against your most sensitive spot, the squeak you let out had been dangerously close to a moan. A fact that Danny noted instantly.

"Just trying to get comfortable, sorry go on." he acknowledged as he adjusted his grip on your wrists with his left hand while giving your hip a reassuring pat with the other.

Danny's game with his little pet was having an unexpected effect on him. He had anticipated getting a bit worked up with you. A little edging, if you will. Just playing with his food, nothing serious. But the more Danny played this game, the more he felt he didn't want it to end. Looking at her struggling to form words, he wanted to watch her forget the entire English language underneath him. He let his right hand meander back up to her waist, the glove that remained encompassing the last of his strength of will to not flip her onto her back and fuck her right there. No, no, Danny. Let her talk, or at least try to.

What were you talking about? Right, the fucking movie. "The...movie vi- the cinematographer on this... he only made car commercials before this." You felt him chuckle. A rumble you felt pass through your own chest, down to your belly, down further.

"That's not what we were talking about." You could hear his smile through the mask. You were stumped. You felt trapped in his gaze. Your mind felt like it was turning to mush by the second. "The synths? The vocoder...?"

Right, fuck. What was I thinking? You wanted to disappear. You wanted to this all to be some sort of nightmare. Or wet dream. You felt your legs turn to jelly.

"The vocoder, yeah. It was added in underneath the actor's lines because he wanted to make the dialogue sound like it was coming from hell." Your hips ached to move ever so slightly, to tease him back. Getting comfortable, my ass. Nothing about this felt innocent, of course it wasn't. He broke into your home and made you straddle him. What exactly did you think this was going to be?

Focus on her words, Danny. What's she saying? She could be speaking in tongues by now for all he cared. All that mattered was the way he felt her belly press down on him as she breathed and how her legs had splayed further to accommodate him. Danny didn't exactly have an end goal for this night, but when he felt her hips rock a bit her fate was sealed in stone. This night would end, but their game wouldn't. Besides he still had another hand she needed to paint. He met the movement of her hips by using the hand at his waist to help prop both of them up. The hand that held her wrists now supporting her back. The space between them smaller than ever before. He could almost taste her. He had to. He used the thumb of his gloved hand to hike up his mask up to reveal his jaw. Without a second thought, he held the back of her head and pulled her into an all consuming kiss.

You had thought you made a mistake, trying to match him. You went to far, goaded the bull. Now he was going to kill you. When he hoisted the both of you up you thought he was about to deal his killing blow, maybe slash your throat as you sat upright. The strike never came. Instead, he stopped your heart another way. It had barely registered in your mind that you were actually seeing his lips, seeing a part of his face, before they came crashing down on you. He had taken advantage of the way your mouth gaped open in shock when he had lifted you up to let his tongue explore the inside of your mouth. It was far more pleasant than death. He was kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole but had to restrain himself. It would be easier to just let him, and just sit there numbly in his hands. But the way his tongue darted in your mouth you felt compelled to chase after him. Your tongue met his with an equal measure of primal instinct. You wanted to familiarize yourself with the taste of his mouth.

Damn this girl. Danny wanted her to fight him on this. Not for the sake of having her struggle, though there was a measure of thrill in that. He wanted an excuse to be annoyed with her. To want to be done with her. Instead she paid him back in kind, her hands resting on his chest inching up to his shoulders. This night was supposed to make it easier for him to kill her off later. Get his rocks off a bit without leaving evidence to find later. Instead that raw, needy feeling that built up inside him when he saw her only continued to grow. This hunger would not be sated, could not be. It would only continue to fester the more he was apart from her. The only way to keep it under control would be to keep her within arms reach. No distance to make the heart grow fonder, only tight, close proximity to make the crushing feeling turn suffocating. Then he would be tired of her, then he could be rid of her. But for now he had to get her out of here, back somewhere he could really stretch his legs. It almost pained him to break from a kiss so decadent. She wore a dreamy, almost dumbstruck expression, with a flushed face and plush, swollen pink lips to match. He wanted to drink her up.

"After all that you're gonna think I'm a real dick for this, but you'll learn to forgive me." Her drowsy expression gave way to a look of confusion. A silent question answered by an equally wordless blow to the side of her head. Light's out. "Sorry, doll. Gotta move the sleepover to my place."

[ash5monster01]

Perfect To Love Part 7

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, angst, trust issues.

Summary: Beth Walker was used to living in the shadows. She had only one friend and anyone else who paid her mind usually bullied her for her size. So she learned to keep her mouth shut, her head down, and her heart closed because she had to accept the fact that she would be nothing more than the fat girl to people. That is until Robin decides Beth needs more in life and that might just include a boy who she never would’ve thought could see her for who she truly was.

a/n: this chapter is short & sweet, I know, but I wrote it to give more of the dynamic between Robin and Beth, and more of an idea of what’s going on in Beth’s head. she just doesn’t want to be hurt <3

word count: 2,296

Part 6 ←→ Part 8

Masterlist

Beth had expected to feel a lot of things after their date. Considering it was her first date ever. She thought it would go like it did in the movies, be everything she ever dreamed of. She thought she’d feel butterflies for the next couple of days. Dream of stolen glances and soft touches. Instead every time she thought back she cringed. Actually recoiled into herself from embarrassment. She’d replay the date in her head, try to remove that feeling, yet every time she reached the end she’d wince, and have to start all over again. It was a torturous cycle and she was unsure how to break it. Unsure how to separate the good moments from where they had turned bad.

She also wasn't sure how to explain it, which was why she had been screening Robin's calls since. When Beth had returned home that night Robin had been long gone needing to be home in time for dinner with her parents. Instead of following through on the promise to call her with all of the details she had been avoiding her, because how do you explain to your best friend how badly you messed up when you weren't even sure yourself how it happened. It wasn't something you could just easily explain. It also wasn't something Robin could easily understand. After all Beth was embarrassed and here she was cringing again as she thought of it.

"Alright Walker, open the door before I break it. I won't hesitate. Alan already told me I was allowed" Robin banged at the girls door and she flinched, rolling over to look at it. Knowing confrontation was standing right there behind the white paint on the door.

"Robin please let me sulk a little longer" Beth groaned out, flopping a pillow onto her face.

"Not happening, open up" Beth groaned louder, this time so Robin could hear, before tossing the pillow away, and standing to open the door. Swinging it open just to spot the blonde girl holding up a tub of ice cream and two spoons with her permanent awkward smile on her face.

"You're really gonna make me do this?" Beth asked and Robin nodded which caused Beth to sigh as she returned to her bed, Robin now following behind. Once they were both settled in, side by side, and spoons in each of their hands, Robin turned to her.

"Alright, tell me what's up. Steve said you've been avoiding him too" Beths head fell back against the head board as Robin mentioned his name. She needed at least another half and hour before this type of torture.

"Robin I'm such an idiot. I told you I was too awkward to do this" Beth told her, eyes shut so she didn't have to face her bestfriend and show her humiliation.

"I think you're over thinking it. Steve said it was a great date. Just the end was a bit weird" Beth cringed, tucking herself into the sheets as Robin said this.

"Oh God, he's never gonna ask me out again" at this Beth stuck the spoon into the tub of ice cream and shoved a glob in her mouth. She hated turning to food for comfort considering her size, but embarassment this harsh needed all the ice cream in the world.

"That's not true, tell me what happened and I'll tell you that you're overreacting"

"I can't believe you don't remember me from high school" Beth shook her head as Steve opened the car door for her, Steve outwardly groaning as he heard this.

"I was an asshole in high school Beth, if it helps I didn't remember Robin either" he explained, shutting her into the car before she could respond, and jogging to the other side.

"You definitely were an asshole, I can agree with that" she told him once he was inside. Beth didn't want to tell him what happened, didn't want to ruin this night, because the night had been so good. So perfect. Everything she ever wanted.

"Hey, that's mean" he gasped, but he was pretending. He blocked out a lot of things from highschool because when he thought of who he used to be, the things he used to do, they were things he didn't want to remember. Things he didn't want to represent him. Yet he wouldn't doubt at some point their paths had crossed and it was more than likely not the type of meeting they were doing now.

“Hey I said were. If you asked me a month ago I would’ve said you were still an asshole but after you punched Colin and tonight, I can officially say Steve Harrington has changed for the better” Beth said grabbing his hand this time. She had gotten more comfortable, more confident in his feelings towards her. She could grab his hand and not feel awkward now.

“Thank you Beth, it means a lot” Steve had his own set of problems Beth realized. Sometimes she was so focused on her own she missed others. Steve was a different guy and she could recognize that was not easy to come to. Beth waited a moment before acknowledging his sentence.

“Anytime Steve” the air in the car was heavy. A repercussion of a good first date and an understanding conversation. Both parties could feel it, feel the weight of what could come next. It was the moment Steve had been waiting for since the beginning of the date.

“Bethany?” Steve cooed, eyes flicking down to her cherry red lips. Beth’s heart doubled over in speed, hammering against her rib cage because he looked so pretty and he was looking at her like that. Flushed cheeks, fallen strands of hair, hazel eyes shining into her own.

“How’d you know my name was Bethany?” she whispered, pretending he wasn’t leaning closer because despite the fact of how badly she wanted to kiss him she was tainted by a cruel world. Was she even deserving of a kiss from a boy like him?

“Your Mom happened to let it slip” he was too close now, so close his hand was no longer locked into her own but using the back of her seat for support. Beth felt the panic begin to creep up her chest. She wanted to taste him, to be apart of the club of girls that knew what it was like to be kissed silly by him.

Then his hand landed on her thigh, her skirt had risen from sitting in the seat, and Beth became very aware very fast that he could feel her. Feel her size, the weight, the plush of her skin because she was fat. She knew it, she didn’t need him to know it too. So instead of focusing on the fact that he was now so close she could smell the honey scent of his hair, she panicked because he was close enough now that he could feel her and it was going to gross him out.

“You ready to go?” she blurted without much thought, head turning away from him, his lips just barely grazing her cheek. Steve felt the disappointment like a gut punch and she pulled her leg from his grasp. Confusion flooded his features and she kept her sight straight out the window, too scared to even look at him.

“Um yeah, it’s almost 10 anyway” Steve said after clearing his throat. He recovered quickly but he was finding it hard to hide how much it bothered him that she couldn’t kiss him.

With the air now heavy with denial a word wasn’t shared between the two as he drove her home and the electric buzz had been eliminated. Steve wondering the whole drive why she didn’t want to kiss him and Beth fighting the panic that had burrowed it’s way into her chest over the fact that she was about to have her first kiss and if he didn’t like it she was sure she would never recover.

“You denied him?” Robin questioned, the ice cream on her spoon dripping back into the container.

“I panicked Rob. At first I was so excited, I wanted to kiss him so bad, and then I realized he was touching me. He could feel the difference between me and all those skinny girls. I didn’t want to see his disappointment when he noticed” Beth covered her face with her hands and Robin sighed as she plucked the spoon from her grasp and set it in the container.

“Beth it’s okay to be scared about your first kiss. You’re scared for the wrong reasons though. Steve made a pass at you because he wanted to kiss you. If anything was to disappoint him he wouldn’t have gone on the date” Robin told her as she pulled her hands away from her eyes. She had already listened to Steve all morning asking where he went wrong. He wanted to kiss her and he wanted to know why he couldn’t. Hearing it was about Beth’s size broke her heart.

“It’s too late now, he isn’t going to ask me out again” Beth told her, eyes glimmering with tears. She was embarrassed by how she reacted, cringing at the memory of denying him.

“That is so not true. I had to fight him from trying to come with me” Robin told her, recalling Steve begging to let him tag along to her house.

“I’m so embarrassed, and I don’t want to tell him why” Beth whimpered and Robin sighed as she wrapped an arm around her friends shoulder. She leaned her head against her own and gave a small hum of thought.

“He deserves an explanation Beth and it’s not my place to tell him. He thinks he upset you and he won’t forgive himself until he knows why” Robin told her and Beth groaned.

“I was so much better off without all this drama” Beth chuckled and Robin joined her, giving her a squeeze.

“Well it’s a little late for that now. You’ve entered the dating world and it’s full of drama, confusion, and heartbreak. You’re gonna love it” Robin told her and Beth laughed before sitting up to look at her friend.

“You can’t say things like that to me if you still won’t ask Vickie out on a date” Beth said and Robins jaw went slack with shock.

“How’d you know?” she asked and Beth just shrugged before picking up her spoon again.

“I spend every day with you two, you look at her the way I look at Micheal J. Fox” Beth told her and Robin shoved her teasingly.

“You’re lucky I love you” Robin pointed and Beth just giggled, eating another spoonful of her ice cream.

“I guess we both got to figure this whole dating thing out” Beth told her and Robin nodded, scooping a bite of ice cream for herself.

“Could I ask you something?” Robin asked after a beat and Beth nodded.

“Anything” she told her and Robin sighed as she thought of how to say it.

“How come you don’t trust Steve like you do me and Nancy?” she finally asked after a beat and Beth sighed, ready to fib but Robin cut her off. “I know it’s not cause he’s a guy either. He’s proven he’s not like Colin”

“But he used to be” Beth whispered and Robin furrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” she asked and Beth let out a breath, fingers fiddling with the spoon in her hand.

“When I was a freshman him and his friends did something to me that I could never forget. It jump started harassment towards me for years. I don’t think he even remembers but how do you trust someone who has already hurt you once before” Robins eyes widened, not really knowing this would be the reason. She remembered what Steve, Tommy, and Carol were like though. She watched them harass kids to tears before. She was lucky enough to not be one of them but apparently Beth wasn’t.

“I’m sure he’s sorry for it” Robin began to defend her friend but Beth shook her head.

“I don’t doubt it, he’s a good guy now. It’s the fact he doesn’t remember is what concerns me. If he remembered at least I’d know he cared. That he regretted every moment he was a jerk” Beth told her and Robin took this information in, accepting the fact that Beth more than likely didn't want to share details just yet.

"Maybe tell him that, explain you couldn't kiss him because of what he did. That you can start to trust him once you move past that" Robin told her, hoping she could tell Steve the truth about what she was feeling. Beth had been the happiest Robin had ever seen her the past month and she wanted it to stay that way.

"Maybe, but right now I need to hate myself just a little bit longer" Beth told her and Robin lightly snorted.

"You know I think you should come to terms with Steve on your own but he's the best. Don't ever tell him I said that, but other than you he's my bestfriend and I trust him with my life. There isn't many people out there I would say that about" Robin told her and Beth nodded as she listened to her friend talk so highly of the boy. Beth had seen he was all those amazing things, she didn't need Robin to convince her of it. But in the balance of all things was Steve's past heavier then his future? And if it was Beth wasn't sure she'd want to be apart of it.

The world had already crushed her, she didn't need Steve Harrington to finish her off.

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Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[soracities]

Help! I've fallen in love with my best friend but I don't know if I should tell her. Sometimes I feel like she might feel the same way but I don't know if it's just my mind reading too much into everything. Plus, I'm really scared because I don't want to ruin our friendship. She means a lot to me. What should I do?

This is always such a painful situation and I'm really sorry you're holding onto so much trying to deal with it. I think, though, that at the end of the day you have two choices in this, and while I cannot tell you what to do, what I can advise is for you to look carefully, and as clearly and honestly as you can, without reserve or fear, at those two options and what they will actually entail.

You can tell your friend how you feel. And yes, it may change your friendship. Yes, she may not reciprocate. Yes, you may need considerable time apart, and you will not be able to call her or text her or see her in the same way for a long time. And yes, that will be, incredibly, painful. But that paint will, eventually, find some place in your life. And it is also a pain that you have to measure against the pain of holding onto such large and intense feelings and never finding a resolution for them--the pain of reading into every interaction and gesture, of living in a land of never-ending what-ifs, of hoping and hoping, without ever knowing whether that hope is misplaced, which will, in reality, only make it more intense and more lonely for you.

I'm usually not someone who believes genuine friendships can be ruined by honesty--they may change to accomodate the parties' needs, or make space for all the different ways we grow out of our old selves and into new ones, or learn to find new footing as the dynamics change. They will be different, but not lesser. They also do not retroactively change or nullify all the preceding years in which you supported and cared for each other and changed each other. Yes, If you tell her what you feel you may no longer have the same friendship that you once had, but if you are being honest with yourself, do you actually still have that same friendship right now? I think so often we convince ourselves that when we develop feelings for someone we're already close to, that it's saying it out loud that will change everything. But things have changed already; once those feelings are there, once you know they are there, it's not the same dynamic anymore, whether you vocalise this or not. Things may not change on the outside, but on the inside you're holding onto such intense feelings that will colour and affect the interactions you have with her. You're human--how could they not?

It may be that the friendship, as it stands, that you are trying to preserve and not "ruin" is the friendship before these feelings were known to you. But as much as it sucks you cannot go back there. Ignoring the reality of your feelings is not going to make them less of a reality for you; you will never really be able to spend time with her, talk with her, laugh and joke with her as someone who isn't in love with her. And if you decide to not say anything (which is up to you, because I know that it is an intensely difficult and painful situation) you have to contend with, and accept, the following realities:

that your best friend may date and fall in love with other people and you will have to be okay with this

that you will, then, never be free of the pain or varying levels of jealousy that may arise when this happens, either when she excitedly tells you about someone or needs your support when it doesn't work out

that your friend may, subsequently, prioritize those relationships over yours at times in order to build and strengthen them and here too, you have to be okay with this

and finally, that no matter how you try it is going to be next to impossible for you to ever be truly happy for her if she finds someone she genuinely loves, to want the best for her in that situation and still be there as her friend without some quiet hope (whether conscious or not) that it will not work out

Worrying that your honesty may "ruin" things is understandable; but I think it's also important to ask how exactly you are to know that none of the above will adversely affect your friendship either? That they will not lead to repressed guilt or resentment? If you tell her how you feel, and she does not feel the same way, and if it so happens that your friendship ends there (which is terrifying to think about, I know, but please remember also that if you are to move on from those feelings, you cannot do so when she is still in your life in the same way as before--and if she means this much to you, and you mean that much to her, do you think it's a pain she would be willing to put you through?), do you know for a fact that it could have continued happily without you saying anything yet still carrying all this below the surface? That it wouldn't manifest and bubble over at some point? That she wouldn't wonder, for example, why you may not like a future partner of hers whom she adores and you never being able to give an honest answer? And do you think you are able to prolong a friendship under circumstances in which you know you are not being as honest as you want to be, and therefore may not be able to be as good of a friend as you want to be for her?

Again, I cannot tell you whether to tell her how you feel, or not tell her: all I can say is that you need to measure the reality of what telling and not telling, her, will look like while also taking your own needs into account. We all want to believe we can carry something like this bravely and stoically for the greater good (the other person, your friendship, etc), but your own wellbeing factors into that "greater" good, too. And while I don't mean this to sound harsh (I'm saying it with a great deal of love and understanding) there will never be any inherent reward for that stoicism or for suffering through your feelings silently. It's never an easy situation and it's by turns confusing, frustrating, painful, terrifying, and lonely. What you think you can bear, at the end of the day, can only be decided by you, but for whatever it's worth, I hope your heart finds some relief, in however you choose to go about this 💗

[mothsgotghosts]

Soapghost Tangled Au

LOOK. I'm certain I'm not the first person to think about this but I Don't Care. This blog is basically just me saying shit about cod to the void anyway and talking like a bunch of people will see it lmao. THIS IS GONNA BE LONG AS FUCK BTW.

Also this shit is gonna feature some good old fashioned nikprice and alerudy and my several headcanons, a few of which I will share for context: First of all, almost everyone is trans in my mind, I won't lie to you. But mostly that's not relevant to the plot besides Soap and Nik are both trans men. Also Ghost is transfem and that's not super relevant but I will be using mostly she/her for her (I hc her using she/her and he/him pronouns) so be prepared. OKAY GOOD This is just gonna be me rambling my ideas in a bulleted list hopefully in the order of the plot.

The story sticks fairly close to the actual movie plot, once upon a time there was a magic flower yadda yadda. Anyway Old Man Shepherd wants to be eternally young yeah

Meanwhile the kings (Price and Nik) are like "let's have another kid", I say another bc Gaz is here also he's adopted <3, and seahorse dad Nik is real, okay great (DO NOT TURN THIS INTO OMEGAVERSE SHIT. HE'S TRANS. A TRANS PARENT.)

Anyway uh oh Nik gets sick (haha rhyme) and Price is like "go get that flower so my husband doesn't DIE thanks), Shepherd is pissed, steals their baby with magic hair

That baby with magic hair is Soap! Who is raised by Shepherd, everyone's favorite (least favorite) manipulative piece of shit!

Some background info on Soap's childhood, it wasn't great being locked in a tower and also. Soap is trans in this (as I've said), he's just gnc, but the long hair. Eehh. Not something he super loves but Shepherd won't let him cut it, obviously. The mohawk was a compromise (yes I know the hair lore but I want him to have a mohawk so shh)

Anyway Soap's 20-something birthday rolls around and he tries to ask Shepherd to go see the glowing lights, Shepherd says no, they argue, Soap asks for paint instead, Shepherd leaves to go get it

Meanwhile Ghost and Graves are robbing the fucking castle and steal the lost prince's crown, Ghost leaves Graves to get caught by the royal guard and then gets chased by a horse named Riley for a while before ditching him and climbing into an abandoned tower, and gets hit with a frying pan

Again, the story continues fairly the same. John makes a deal with this stranger in a skull mask to take him to see the floating lights, the lanterns apparently, and he'll give her her satchel back, Ghost begrudgingly agrees.

Ghost then takes Soap to get some food to convince him to go home and call off the deal, and she takes him to Los Vaqueros Saloon, run by two outlaw husbands and frequented by loads of criminals and bounty hunters

In case it wasn't obvious, Alejandro and Rudy own the saloon. Its patrons are made up of various different operators + Valeria (who IS an operator now but still).

Poor Soap is terrified bc Shepherd told him all people, esp ones like these, are bad news and then a bunch of guys lunge on Ghost to get her bounty and send someone out to go find some guards. Soap stops them, I've Got A Dream happens. Alejandro wants to be a pianist, good for him :)

Meanwhile Shepherd returns, sees Soap is gone, and rolls up right as Soap is saying how glad he is he left and gets pissed

Then the royal guard show up and Rudy and Alejandro help them escape and then call Ghost's dream stupid.

"Go follow your dream, hermano." "I will." "He was talking to him, your dream is stupid."

They get cornered by Graves, the royal guard, and Riley, escape and then get trapped in a cave and nearly drown. Ghost cuts her hand trying to pry away some rocks but it's too dark underwater for her to see. They both think they're gonna die so Ghost tells Soap her real name.

"my real name is Simon Riley. Somebody might as well know." "I have magic hair that glows when I sing." "....what?" "OH MY GOD- I HAVE MAGIC HAIR THAT GLOWS WHEN I SING!!!"

John's good old magic hair saves the day, they escape, they find a clearing to camp out in for the night and Soap uses his hair to heal the cut on Simon's hand, Simon freaks out a little bit it's fine, she's fine

John then asks why Simon changed her name to Ghost, Simon says it's a boring story but John listens anyway. She talks about her father and her brother taunting her with ghosts and skeletons, and when they died it stuck with her. She decided to become a ghost.

Simon asks about John's hair, he tells her that his "father" keeps him in that tower to protect him from people who want to steal his hair, shows her the tiny little brown strand that never grew back and says people want to use him for his hair's healing abilities, it's how he got the big scar on his chin.

Simon leaves to get firewood, and Shepherd emerges from the fucking shadows like a creature and tells Soap to come home with him, to which Soap says no because he Likes Simon, and she's gonna take him to see the lanterns, and she's nice!! Shepherd gets mad, tosses him the satchel and says to give it to Simon and see what she does, that he'll be sorry when she runs away with it, and then leaves

Simon comes back and Soap lies and says everything is fine. Shepherd runs into Graves who wants to kill Simon and makes a deal with him

Then morning rolls around and Simon is awoken by RILEY THE FUCKING HORSE, Soap convinces Riley to be nice and let Simon go for one day because "it's my birthday :)" and she's supposed to take him to see the lanterns

They make their way into town and Simon immediately is like "okay yeah your hair is too long" because people keep stepping on it and gets some kids to braid it. John looks very handsome, Simon is very queer, they run off and have a good time enjoying the town square and all the festivities

At some point Soap notices a mural of the royal family, with a certain golden haired baby that looks very familiar, but quickly brushes it off to dance with the townsfolk and Simon

Then it's time to see the lights! Yay! Simon gets a boat for him and John, tosses Riley a bag of apples that he Definitely Paid For, Okay...Or Mostly Paid For.

I See the Light happens, John gives Simon the satchel and Simon pushes it aside in favor of taking off her mask, just for John.

"but I'm not scared anymore, ye know?" "I think I'm starting to."

AND THEN HE TAKES THE MASK OFF AND. sometimes, I am a genius. Anyway, they get back to shore and Simon sees Graves and is like "I promise I'll be right back" and goes off to just give him the satchel, he doesn't want it anymore he just wants to be done with all this criminal shit, mainly for Johnny.

Graves instead is like "what if I took that magic hair guy instead" and knocks his ass out and ties her to a boat then goes to snatch Soap. Shepherd shows up AGAIN and knocks Graves out like "oh look son I saved you!" And Soap sees the boat with Simon on it, thinks she left him, and goes back with Shepherd

Simon wakes up TIED TO A BOAT WITH THE FUCKING CROWN HE STOLE AND GETS ARRESTED

Graves also gets arrested and Simon freaks out on him when passing him being led to his cell, Graves says that some weird guy showed up and took Soap back home and Simon is locked in her cell

Meanwhile back at the tower, Soap is laying in his bed all sad bc his gf left him, when he realizes the sun crest on the little flag Simon got him at the festival matches suns he's been subconsciously painting for YEARS, that when he tried on that crown Simon stole it fit, that that baby on that mural WAS HIM, that BRO HE IS THE LOST PRINCE.

Then he yells at Shepherd for stealing him away and Shepherd is like "okay fuck you" and plans to lock him up forever

Meanwhile, Simon gets broken out of prison by two cowboys and their gaggle of thieves and bounty hunters and a horse named Riley. Riley takes him to the tower where he climbs up and gets stabbed by Shepherd after seeing Soap LITERALLY CHAINED TO A WALL.

John begs Shepherd to let him heal her, that he'll go with him quietly and never complain if he does and Shepherd agrees and chains Simon up too so he can't follow them. Soap goes to heal her and Simon slices off a bunch of his hair. Shepherd rapidly ages and falls out of the window and dies, L moment. Simon dies too tho, sad.

For real though, "You were my new dream" "And you were mine" fucks me up every time. Anyway, Simon dies, Soap's magic tears of love or something brings her back to life.

"Did I ever mention...I like brunettes" "PFF- YER AN ARSEHOLE!" "Sorry Johnny, there can only be one blonde person in this relationship!"

Anyway happily ever after and all that, Soap gets to reunite w his long lost fathers and brother.

Look idk how they recognize him okay. Father's intuition? Blue eyes? The big fat scar on his chin that wasn't ACTUALLY from someone stealing Soap (he was a stupid baby)? Idk could be any or all of those.

THE END!!!!!! Thank you to those who sat here and read ALL of this <3 big preesh! Okay idk how to end this so bye

[mins-fins]

TO MY FIRST LOVE (K.JH)

SUMMARY . . . a letter to his first love, kum junhyeon, and the memories that follow.

PAIRING . . . kum junhyeon x male!reader

GENRE . . . fluff+angst (deadly combination)

WARNINGS . . . none i'm pretty sure!

WORD COUNT . . . 777 (wow shorter than i expected!)

NOTES . . . here we go with junhyeon!! haha, can't tell if this is supposed to be sad or cute but you can decide that for yourself

dear kum junhyeon,

it's been a while, it has. i like to think that i'm a consistent person, but the last time we talked was almost three months ago, and i just wanna check up on you! i hope your okay, how's the performance art major going? i know your passing with no issue, you've always been insanely talented, i have no doubt that your the star student, especially with how much of a lovable person you are.

i hope you haven't forgotten me, because i haven't forgotten you. i know you've responded to my letters, all of them, but it's been three months, and even though this might make me sound like a clingy bitch, i assume you'd forget me already, because.. i just don't really think i'm memorable. i also just wouldn't be surprised if you forgot me at all, because your busy and having fun, i wish i could be there with you, but the world really just hates my guts.

if your interested, art has been going well. my teachers have told me that my paintings are so good that they could get accepted into an art museum someday, you told me that once, remember? when we were twelve and you saw my painting of that house by the lake, you told me i was gonna become the next 'da vinci', which resulted in me punching you in the shoulder.

i dislike thinking about the fact that we haven't talked for the past few months. i constantly check my phone and frown when i see no notifications from you. did you know, the picture i chose for you is the one from your twelfth birthday, when i put icing on your noise. you always said that photo was embarrassing, but you looked cute, even though you would always vehemently deny that.

it's difficult these days, you know student loans and all, but thinking about you always seems to help me forget about all the horrible stuff going on in my life (you better not call me cringey in the return letter), because.. i don't know, i just like thinking about you for some reason. years ago, i could have never imagined myself saying that, but now, it's kind of hard to go on without you, if you get what i mean.

i could never imagine my life without you years ago..

i hate writing like this, because.. well— i sound stupid when i write about stuff like this. sometimes, i wish i could have convinced my parents to not move me to new york for college, but then again, i am "successful" now, so i guess in the end it all amounted to something. of course, i still have a long way to go, i'm only nineteen, there's still so much for me to do and accomplish, but it's disappointing to think i have done this all without you by my side.

i still have that painting you made me, your a really talented artist, i can't believe you called it "just a small hobby for when i'm bored", when you've made some better paintings than me, and that's saying something. i miss you, like a lot, junhyeon, writing my feelings on paper makes me feel stupid, because expressing myself through writing has always been difficult for me to do, as i've told you before.

i know what we have has always been a little complicated, our feelings are mutual are they not? i'd like to think i'm right in this instance, hopefully, because it would be super embarrassing if i was wrong, but at the same time, how long will it be until we see each other again? how long will it be until i actually get to see you face to face and tell you how i feel all over again?

this is getting kinda depressing, sorry, i just— i really miss you a lot okay? this may come off as desperate and stupid, but honestly, it gets kinda difficult knowing your all the way across the ocean and i could be right there with you if the circumstances were different, but alas, not everything is gonna be in my favor, i realize that now.

anyway, kum junhyeon! it'll be nice to catch up much more personally sometimes, if we ever get the chance to see each other in person once again, which is probably highly unlikely but hey! we all need to have at least a little bit of hope.

of course, make sure to take care of yourself, love, stay hydrated, and get a full eight hours of sleep everyday, i'll talk to you again soon :).

xoxo,♡ y/n

[jaysficarchive]

Breakfast at Hecate's

Synopsis: Up and coming popstar Y/N is invited to the home of her idol Hecate Enjo for breakfast.

Inspired by Discord messages with @liyawritesss

If there was ever a time you felt like you were in a movie, it was when she stood in front of the high rise building. Azure Tower was one of the most expensive places to live in the city--and for good reason.

Celebrities, socialites, and many other residents of the Tops all lived here.

You got this, Y/N, you told yourself. You walked in and headed straight to the front desk. The lobby was spotless. Walls made of black marble and sitting areas filled with velvet chairs, state-of-the-art technology for the building's residents to entertain themselves with when lines were long, and gold elevators capable of taking you to the highest floor with no issue. This was the lifestyle of the rich and the famous.

"Good morning, ma'am. How may I help you?" The clerk typed on the computer.

"I'm here to visit someone. Her name is Hecate. You might know her," you reply. You notice some of the other staff looking you up and down out the corner of your eye.

My outfit can't be that bad, you think. And I know my hair looks fine too. Is it because I'm black?

"May I have your name and ID please?"

"L/N Y/N."

Another front desk worker scanned your ID while the clerk quickly typed on the computer. "Enjo Hecate, right?"

"Yes, sir! What floor does she live on?"

"She lives on the 10th floor. I'll let her know you're here." The clerk dialed Hecate's room number while picking up the landline phone. "Miss Enjo, you have a guest here. Would you like for me to send her up?"

Not a second passed when you were given the okay. The clerk gave you her room number before sending you on your way. During the elevator ride, your emotions mixed the more you realized you were about to have breakfast with your idol. Excitement, nervousness, second guessing. Hecate was the same woman whose songs you memorized by heart, whose posters hung in your dorm room, and bought as many magazines that featured her as possible.

Ever since she gave you the invitation after having the pleasure to open for her concert in Madison Square Garden, the day was all you could think about. You spent weeks in advance shopping for outfits, getting your hair done, searching the Internet for the perfect makeup looks.

Once you reached the tenth floor, you started taking deep breaths.

"It's just breakfast," you mumbled as you walked out. "She just invited you for breakfast. Calm down."

"Y/N?"

An embarrassingly loud scream at the sound of Hecate's voice came out your mouth. Not the best way to start this off.

She was dressed nicely when you turned around to look at her. Shiny, voluminous curls tied up and held by a pink ribbon.

"O-oh! Oh my god. I'm, uh, really sorry about that." You try to do damage control, unaware you look a nervous mess right now. "I was, uh, looking for you."

Hecate giggled while smiling. "Follow me."

You followed her towards the back of the hallway, near the end. You could feel your heart pounding the closer you got to her place.

Hecate placed a card onto the scanner. When the light turned green, she opened the door then motioned for you to come inside. Your mouth widened with awe as you stepped inside.

Her penthouse was the stuff of dreams. She was clearly a maximalist yet made it work. The furniture, all different shades of pink, looked like it belonged in Versailles. Chandeliers with real crystals hung from the ceiling. Two plaques, platinum and gold, hung on the walls.

"Woah..."

"We'll be eating on the balcony. Or do you want a quick tour?"

You gladly accepted a small tour of the place. First stop was obviously the living room. Aside from the plauqes, there were pictures of family and paintings surrounded by gold framing hanging on the walls.

"Those plaques are for The Life and Times of a Floridian Princess, right?"

"You are correct. It actually ended up going platinum three times." Hecate led you to the kitchen. Sure enough, it was like the rest of the penthouse.

The walls were painted a dusty pink. Your favorite parts were the painted ceiling and brass faucet with the handles shaped like rose buds.

The dining room was something out of a book.

The balcony not only offered a great view of the city, but overlooked downtown. However, it was the least exciting part. The breakfast in front of you made your mouth water. Homemade pancakes and waffles, three varieties of syrup, orange juice and tea, and more.

"This looks delicious. Give my compliments to the chef."

Hecate giggled, "I am the chef."

"Really? You don't have any help?"

"No. My dad wanted to send me some maids. I told him no."

Hecate poured herself a some tea, probably thinking about her family back in Florida. "I've grown up with them my whole life. I wanted to be able to cook for myself sometimes."

You nodded along while making your own plate. You decided to go with pancakes, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, and two strips of bacon with a glass of orange juice for now. "Heard your dad's a huge construction guy."

"You heard right," Hecate responded. "He's built a lot of things. My childhood home, our entire neighborhood, buildings in Tampa after hurricanes. He even built this place."

You almost choked when you heard that. "He built Azure Tower?!"

Hecate cut her waffles. "Yeah. City officials paid him handsomely to come and help rebuild after the Zero Reverse. That money could've made him a billionaire if he were a heartless man. He isn't so he invested it back into his workers and company."

You learn something new everyday, you told yourself.

This particular breakfast was the most delicious one you've ever had. The pancakes were buttery with a hint of vanilla, the eggs didn't suddenly become disgusting after not eating them, and the bacon was a perfect combination of crispy and chewy.

"Oh wow. Oh wow."

Hecate smiled, eating her own breakfast.

As the morning progressed, you two discussed a wide range of topics from her personal life to yours to each other's hopes and dreams. The fact a legend asked you to have breakfast with her did not leave you; yet the way she spoke felt like an old friend catching up after a long time apart.

"I heard you write movies," you said, pouring more orange juice into the cup. "Got any you working on?"

Hecate grinned, raising her teacup to her lips. "Why, yes, and I think this is the perfect opportunity for you."

You watched her get up and leave the balcony. Millions of thoughts raced through your head. Hecate wrote scripts for both movies and TV shows in the past. Two of her most notable examples were the heist thrillers Heat and Slow. Which you had the pleasure of seeing during the press tours, in theaters, and at home.

Hecate walked back out with some papers in her hand.

You raised both eyebrows as she set a few pages of script in front of you. Carefully, you read each page, each line. By the time you finished, you were amazed.

This was already a blockbuster and it hadn't even made it to a screen yet.

"So what do you think? It's my newest project, called the Prince of Nightmares." Hecate asked.

"This looks great already. Where's the full script? What do you need me to do? Where do I sign up?" First you had breakfast, now you got to look at her work. Could this day get any better? "Hecate, this sounds amazing."

"Good because I want you on the team."

[kaysters247]

Deadly Inferno {A Patrick Hockstetter Fic}

Part 7 - The Thing

Word Count: 1386

Warning: Mature

"I'm going after tits whether you like it or not Les. And I'm bringing you along to watch his flesh burn." Patrick's laughter filled the air around us once we started walking, his hand roughly gripping my arm. I held out hope that Ben had gotten further down the stream by now, afraid of what would happen to him if any of them found him. Especially Patrick.

"What is your problem with him? Is it just because Henry tells you to have a problem?" He stopped dead in his tracks near a entrance to the sewer, his eyes landing on my nervous ones. I was being too bold. But I didn't care at this point.

"Henry doesn't tell me anything. I do what I want. I don't need daddy's permission like you two do." I jerked away from him, only igniting a smirk on his demented lips.

"Now come on Les. I don't have all day. And I hear him in the damn sewer. He wants to play games? So can I." Patrick quickly entered with me closely behind, my annoyance in full view. But the voices kept me distracted. Voices from within the sewer. Not just one. But..... several.

"You know, this shit is turning me on. A cat and mouse game. I might just have you blow me right here." Before he could do anything, he ignited his lighter into the darkness of the sewer with hairspray he always kept handy to use as a damn blowtorch of sorts, the light from the flame revealing several decaying kids with wicked smiles, taunting us to follow them. With wide eyes and terrified faces, blood was sprayed at us from the sudden attacks on us, before we finally escaped, my hand tightly gripping Patrick as we made it to a dead end. In a panic, I searched for a way to get out of here, just as a red balloon, just like the one from my bathroom appeared. We looked at one another, and for the first time, I saw true fear in his eyes.

"The bars! We can manage to slip through. I know we can." The balloon suddenly popped and appeared a orange haired clown with razor sharp teeth and glowing yellow eyes. But my mind kicked into overdrive before he could attack Patrick, him seemingly being his main target. I dragged him through the bars, the blood soaking our clothes enough to slip us through and running through the dirty water out of this damn sewer. I practically fell to my knees the minute we got out of there.

"I figured you'd let me die if given the chance Bowers. Guess I was wrong...." His words trailed off as if in deep thought, slowly regaining his composure. He didn't want to show the fear I saw in there.

"What would be the fun in that? I wouldn't have you around to torture me, stalk me, fuck me." We both laughed a little in humor, before he helped me to my feet. Thankfully, Ben was long gone.

"Guess you're right. That is my job." We simply stared at one another for a brief moment, before shaking off whatever was happening. We can't let it get any further than we agreed. It was becoming seemingly hard to mask my feelings. But I couldn't show them. I just can't. Not if he plans on sleeping with someone else while we have our thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{One Hour Later}

Riding on my bike within the summer heat of Derry, the subtle breeze ruffling my hair and a feeling of freedom in my heart was one of the most amazing feelings in the entire world. What once was my mothers bike, quickly became mine after a little paint job, a new seat and wheels curtesy of my dad when he was actually in a better mood, the mood to be an actual dad for once. Those days were long gone. And I knew they'd never be back.

"Leslie!" Bill yelled out to me with a smile once I came to a halt in the alley next to the drug store I always go to when I need my girly things , usually sneaking them out because it was too damn easy. Bev and I were a match made in heaven when it came to that.

"Hey guys! Ben? Are you okay? I'm so sorry about my fucking asshole of a brother." I kicked the kickstand down and immediately hopped off my bike to see the blood just oozing through his shirt, but saw they had patched him up to the best of their ability. I was used to cuts and stuff from watching Georgie. He always did love playing outside and well, kids love getting scratched up doing it. I miss that kid.

"You helped me. Don't be sorry." I smiled a little at Ben in appreciation of understanding that I'm not like my family.

"You know for being a Bowers, you're pretty hot." Richie's words as usual, left his mouth without a second thought, earning a subtle slap across the arm from Eddie.

"You do realize by just saying that it could get you killed?! I mean, Patrick Hockstetter is pretty psycho when it comes to her." My eyes widened a little once Eddie's words dawned on me. Fuck. Patrick! He'll be at my house any time now and here I am taking a stroll down get yourself killed lane.

"Leslie is smart guys. Sure, I know she is with Patrick. But she did save Ben. And she helped us all at some point against her brother. Shes a friend." Stan said this all with such passion, a smile on his face the entire time directed right at me. And it made my heart absolutely sing. I knew they would be here once I finally talked to Beverly after all the chaos in the sewer. I didn't mention the clown. I was afraid I'd sound like a lunatic.

"She's my best friend guys. She's awesome." I hugged Bev with a smile, seeing they were all basically okay with me being around for the most part.

"I'm not the bad guy. I know I'm in deep with Patrick. And my brother is such a shithead. But hey, I'm here for you guys. Always." We talked some more and just joked around for the longest time and somehow, I felt like I belonged. Bev was getting along with them so amazingly before she had to head home, getting an invite to meet them all at the quarry tomorrow. I on the other hand, would be dead if I was caught swimming with several other guys. And Patrick would definitely follow.  I finally said my goodbyes as they all parted ways for the day, strolling out of the alley on my bike when I was suddenly halted by two hands on my handlebars. Not just any hands. But Patrick's.

"There you are Les. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." My eyes widened in such a panic at his little smile of humor, dark humor at that. But with a hint of lust. He was thinking of all the things he could do to me for what he knew I was doing.

"No Pat. I had to check on Ben, okay? I was worried Henry hurt him real bad. Besides, I was heading home to wait for you flamer." My exaggeration of the word flamer he once used on Stan didn't go unnoticed by Patrick, seeing how mad I was truly driving him. I loved playing games with him. I knew it could result in nothing but pain. But fuck, I loved it.

"I swear you and that mouth of yours..... guess I'll just have to stuff it later so you'll stop." I leaned forward on the handle bars, our faces mere inches apart. I didn't care if anyone in town saw and told my dad at this moment. I was lusting so hard over him. And I wasn't about to stop.

"Is that a promise big boy?" He seemed so surprised, yet excited all at the same time, his usual demented smirk on full view. He wanted nothing more than to take me right then and there. I knew this. Everything else was forgotten. Even if only for that moment.

[casspurrjoybell-26]

Made of Steele - Chapter 1

*Warning: Adult Content*

It was hot as hell outside and with each step I took around the field, the more I wanted to kick the ball at the teacher's head.

"JAMIE, WAKE UP AND CHASE THE BALL," the teacher yelled, making me groan out and run for it.

My legs were hurting and I was not the type of guy that liked to play sports, unlike my friends who were applying for scholarships in sports, which was cool for them but I had zero interest in sweating my ass off running around a field chasing a ball.

The teacher today was a sub, still in training at university, he was the guy every girl in school immediately set their sights on, he the embodiment of a sporty guy and the total opposite of me.

Yet the most 'impressive' thing about him was that he was British and had an accent that made girls excited to go to physical education class.

'Kit fucking Pierce.'

He has been here a week and has since went out of his way to give me a challenging time, despite being a senior, already stressed to hell with figuring out what I wanted to do with my life.

Even Hannah, my girlfriend of three years, was crushing over this guy, which annoyed me further because there was nothing interesting about him apart from his pretty face.

I was used to people fussing over me because of who my dad was, a billionaire and who his husband was, Evan Beckett, a famous actor, there was nothing I wasn't used to, even if it annoyed me but seeing someone who was meant to love me start crushing on someone in front of me, made me only hate the guy more.

The whistle blew and thankfully the game was over with my team winning 2-1 and at this point I just wanted to shower and lay down at home and try not to think about all the things going on in my life.

"Jamie, can I speak to you for a second?" the sub teacher asked.

I walked over to him, using my jersey to wipe the sweat from my face.

"Sure."

It was not like I had a choice.

"What's up?"

He put his hand on my shoulder and hinted for me to walk with him, away from the prying eyes and nosy ears of the other students who love to gossip and pry into people's lives.

Once we were far away from nosy students, Kit smiled at me.

"You've been off your game for the past couple of days, is something wrong?"

"Huh?"

I looked up at him.

"I'm fine."

Apart from disliking the guy, I was my regular self, only a bit stressed.

"Just senior stuff."

"Well if there's anything, my door is always open to you, Jamie," he says, smiling a killer smile would have knocked any girl on their ass.

It just made me feel... weird.

I did not know why he was being nice to me, he did not know anything about me.

"Thanks... uh, is there anything else?" I asked, awkwardly.

"Actually..."

"Jamie," a voice familiar voice rung through the air, before I felt something or someone body slap into the back of me, wrapping their arms around me.

When I saw the long-painted pink and purple nails, I knew exactly who it was.

"Are you in trouble?" she cheekily asked, gazing up at Kit, who was no longer smiling but looking at both of us with an unreadable expression.

He looked almost mad.

"No. Why do you think that?" I roll my eyes. "I'm a model student."

Hannah, who thinks everything that comes out of my mouth is sarcasm, scoffs.

"Yeah right."

Ignoring Hannah and her sneaky glances at Kit, I sigh and take my t-shirt off from over my head, the summer heat making it feel like it was sticking to my skin more than usual because of running for so long.

Looking back at Kit, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Uh, okay,. See you Monday," I said, before walking away with Hanna following behind me.

Well, that was weird.

"What was that all about?" Hannah asks, not bothering to keep her voice down, despite only being a few feet away from Kit.

"Nothing, he just wanted to ask a question."

Although, I got the strange feeling he wanted to ask me something.

He might be a fan of Evan's and wanted to ask for an autograph?

It wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last time a teacher had come up to ask me that and felt embarrassed by doing so.

"Oh," Hannah said uninterested, taking her cell-phone out from her pocket and starts to type away.

I take a look back and see that Kit had started to pick up the ball and the mess that the other students had left, the football vests and empty bottles of water on the grass.

I saw why girls liked him, as much as he got on my nerves, he was nice, patient and good looking, he'd only been here a week and every student he taught had come to respect him and while that was fine, I couldn't help getting this feeling from him.

There was something about him that I couldn't understood why he annoyed me but just from being around him made me cold sweat, yet I knew it wasn't because I was nervous around him, it was something else.

I put my sweaty hand around Hannah, making her shriek back and push my arm off her as I laugh out as we both walk back into the school.

It's whatever, I just need to stop thinking so much about him.

══════════════════

"We won't be back this week, with Evan's movie finished, we're visiting the cabin for a break," my dad said, as I laid back on the sofa, munching on French fries.

"Yeah, okay," I hum, uninterested. "What about Allie?"

"At your grandparents."

I figured.

"Alright, call if anything changes, I guess."

"No parties Jamie, I don't want the place wrecked like last time, Evan's award got broke and the police..."

"I got it," I groan. "It'll just be me and Hannah... maybe, you need to stop bringing that up, I got it fixed, didn't I? And Evan has like, a thousand of those."

The line went quiet before I heard him sigh out deeply.

"Be safe and... wear protection, I don't want to come back and find..."

"I'm hanging up now, bye," I interrupted him and hung up the phone.

Seriously, what does he think of me?

Since adopting Allie, my dad had become a 'hands on' dad, something I'm not interested in because since he started seeing Evan, I rarely got to see him, only on birthdays and Christmas, if only for a few hours.

I'd admit, it's been nice having a little sister and I liked who my dad was now, he was happy and after worrying about him in the past, with his intimidating presence, I always thought he'd die alone, surrounded by paperwork in that big boring office of his.

I didn't know many gay people and since my own dad came out, I got to meet all sorts of gay people from all over the world, some were Evan's friends, some were famous celebrities that are clients at my dad's agency.

It had nothing to do with me, as famous as my dad and stepdad were, I stayed as far away from the limelight as much as possible, hating even my girlfriend getting too cosy into my private life and private thoughts.

Speaking of the devil, my cell-phone just buzzed beside me.

When I saw her name and her text, I sigh and wondered why I was still going out with her, after the past few months of hardly speaking, seeing or spending time together.

Hanna: Are you coming to Dean's party tonight?

Me: Nah.

Hanna: :)

It should annoy me but after seeing how she's been acting around Kit, the sub teacher, in front of me, I started to think about a lot of things, not only my future but my future with her.

We've been dating since I was fifteen and things were good or so I thought but as time went on, I realized that I thought we were more like friends, than boyfriend/girlfriend.

She was the opposite of me, we didn't like the same things and at first that was what attracted me to her but now it feels like I'm always in the wrong for not doing what she likes to do, like parties and drinking.

The whole thing was stressing me out and also the pressure my mom was putting on me, constantly asking what I was going to do once I graduated.

We were close to graduating and I didn't have the slightest clue what I was going to do, whilst all my friends had already planned their entire life out for the next ten years, while I couldn't even decide what I wanted to eat.

After Hannah had stopped texting me, soon enough my friends were spamming my phone with texts, asking why I wasn't out with Hannah and why I'm sitting at home on a Friday night, like some 'loser'.

While I don't disagree with them, I don't agree either.

My phone buzzed again, only this time I was close to throwing it against the TV but thinking about my dad's disappointing look made me freeze and sigh as I grabbed my phone, seeing it was Instagram.

'Friend suggestion, Kit Pierce.'

What the actual... fuck?

Why would that even be a suggestion?

Curiously, I clicked on the notification and it took me to his page, and to my surprise it wasn't private and he had only a few photos but with a 56k following, which was more than me, as I kept mine private.

Then I noticed why he was suggested in the first place, more than twenty of my friends had followed his social media, even Hannah.

I'll admit, the guy was completely ripped with a great body that showed that he worked out, in some photos he had his shirt off, smiling into the camera, yet one photo in particular had caught my eye.

It was posted one day ago and he was sitting on the grass with a small dog.

The first thing that came to mind was 'damn, that's cute' and as soon as the thought came, I froze.

Why did I just think that was cute?

I've never thought that before about a photo, especially not with a guy in it.

I pressed the side button on my phone and closed it, not wanting to question my thoughts just now as I sunk deeper into the sofa, my eyes on the TV yet unable to pay attention, until something caught my eye.

The moment I saw it, I could feel my whole body still and a cold breeze hit me as I looked down at my shorts.

'I was hard.'

No fucking way... why?

No, nope, I'm probably just sexually frustrated, it's been a while since Hannah and I were together and with how stressed I've been, it's been hard to control myself lately.

This was just one of those days, nothing more, so there was no reason to think too much into it, I knew who I was.

"Fuck this," I sigh and get up from the sofa, turning the TV off in the process and grab my phone.

I am just going to go to sleep and forget all about this and try and enjoy the weekend... while I keep my mind from wondering to a certain someone I did not want to think about. 

[butterflydustsarchive]

it’s as if time stops, for her, the second he reveals he wanted to call her when he found out about his dad. she’s suddenly heavy with sadness, with grief for him and all they’ve lost. they had the kind of relationship, once, where they could call for any reason, regardless of time or place. even though they didn’t have that anymore, it didn’t mean she would ignore his call, that she didn’t want to talk to him. there’s nothing more she wanted, actually, still finding herself longing to hear the sound of his voice frequently throughout the day. “ you could’ve. ” she whispers in return, feeling her heart crack ever so slightly with the admission. because of course he could, he always could–– she told him that the night before he left. but, she understands. it’s the same reason she hasn’t dialed him up, even though her thumb hovers over the button every night, as she lay in bed. “ you know, every time my phone rings, i always have this hope that it’s you. but i know why you can’t, why we shouldn’t–– i know it would only make everything harder, ” a beat. “ but just because we don’t talk, it doesn’t mean i’m not still here for you. you’re still my best friend, miller. ” you’re still my everything, she wants to add, but she refrains, leaving it at that, for now. but, as far as she’s concerned, nothing’s changed–– her heart still belongs only to him, aches for him, almost constantly. now that he’s here, though, in front of her very eyes, she finds it hard to contain it, exerting an enormous amount of self-control not to do or say something incredibly stupid, that would only make things far worse, come morning. feels it slip that much farther away, however, when his hand reaches out to squeeze her knee, when he admits how much he’s missed her, that familiar nickname for her falling from his lips. all of it leaves her buzzing, electricity lingering against her skin, realizing how long it’s been since anyone touched her with such tenderness and care, even if it was fleeting.“ i… god, you don’t even know how much i’ve missed you, ” she finally admits in return, although she’s certain neither needed to know the details of just how much, how it manifested throughout each day, in each singular breath. how she couldn’t wake up without thinking of him, or falling asleep the same way. how she rarely left her apartment in the weeks following his departure, until their friends were forced to drag her out, slowly but surely regaining a somewhat normal routine in the months that followed. and now, everyone keeps urging that it's time to move on, but she has no idea how to achieve such a thing–– not when he’s smiling at her like that, when his words cause her cheeks to flush a shade of pink, only deepening as he traces against the material of her dress. she’s sure he notices it, too, by the way her breath hitches, having to swallow harshly, tearing her gaze away from the sight. tries to conceal it with a subtle smile, turning her hands over so he could see the staining on her palms, the physical mark her art left behind. “ it's kind of a miracle, because everything i own is covered in paint. i'm probably still covered in paint, even after a shower, ” she laughs, then, before nodding. “ but yeah, i am. it’s all actually going like, really well. it’s still fucking insane to me that people actually want to buy things i've made, ” but they did, much to her surprise. after he left, she threw herself into it completely, dedicating every waking minute to creating. it was a means of escape, of expression–– the only thing that’s kept her decently sane, this past year, without him. and of course, when it comes time to ask her question, there are the obvious ones waiting on her lips: if he’s found someone else, someone better, to take her place, if he ever wondered what it might be like now, if he stayed, or if she went with him. she refrains, though, choosing something entirely different. “ everything’s going well with the new job ? you're still writing, right ? ”

miller wonders, briefly, if it'll always be like this, in some way, some form. that, no matter how much time had passed, they'll always have this ability to pick up right where they left off. that's how he sees it, at least— no awkwardness, or any of those usual feelings that tend to come to the surface, when bumping into an ex. had never quite liked that word to describe her, anyway, like it failed to encompass just what she was to him, what she still is; all that they had built together, all that they were. and it still means a lot to him, the way she still reassures him, makes him feel less like a burden, even when that's all he's felt like, lately. expresses his gratitude with a small nod, a subtle smile. doesn't leave it there, however, fingertips tapping lightly as the exterior of his glass, as he observes the liquid that it holds. " i... wanted to call you when i found out the news, you know? " thought she would've been the only one to understand his insuperable grief, the intricacy that was attached to it. " but i know that's not... that's not really what we do anymore, is it? " talk, he means. they'd both discarded that part of whatever still remained of their relationship, their friendship. fuck, were they even still friends? he doesn't hold much clarity around it whatsoever, evident by the slight wince he gives, as he allows his words to settle between them. suddenly, he feels so heavy again, like there's something weighing down on his chest. can't bring himself to consider it for too long, however, knowing that it would be a lethal combination, with all that's transpired today. instead, he nods again at her generosity, silently thanking her for her offer, almost like she knew that he didn't want to be alone, right now. of course she knew. she knew him better than anyone else. finds that's even too painful right now, with the sudden pang in his chest, only prompting him to reach for his glass again, head tilted back, as he downs the rest of its contents. it gives him enough time to think about what he wants to ask her, to sift through everything that runs through his head. there's the obvious— wanting to know if she's seeing anybody new, if the spot next to her, that had once been his, had been warmed by another. decides that it wouldn't be fair to ask, however, that it would only make things harder, worse, when they have to part, again. and so, he saves it for now, until he's clear on what he wants to know about her life, now, without shattering himself in the process. it's what has him reaching over, despite how aware he becomes, of how many boundaries that it crosses, resting his hand atop her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze; meant to be his own form of reassurance, to have her know that it was the same, for him. " me too, " he whispers in agreement, gaze lingering slightly too long on how his hand sits against her skin, soon tearing both away, once he realises. his hand returns to his lap, ignoring the way his skin tingles from the contact. " thank you for coming, for being here. i've... really fucking missed you, dev, " and he doesn't feel the need to expand much further than that; to tell her that he missed her so fucking much that it made him sick, most days. " you look good, too, " he echoes with a smile, this time allowing his gaze to take her in, breath hitching in his throat. " just as i remember, really. but... good, nonetheless. i like the dress, " his smile crosses into dangerous territory, now, as his fingers reach out to run along the fabric. maybe he was feeling the effects from the alcohol, too. " no paint on it, from what i can see. are you still painting? " becomes painstakingly obvious, then, that he'd found his question. the one thing he wanted to know about her life, eyes finding hers, as her hand meets his cheek. " i'll let you have another, " he laughs at her own, and it's the first time in a long time that it's sounded genuine. " i'm... okay, though. sometimes not, too. everything's just so... different, you know? but i'm getting there. "

[fictionfixations]

im writing a multi-chapter fic

i found a cool song so i figured i could use it to name a few chapters over specific arc event stuff

anyway im more likely not to finish it so i dont actually care if someone steals an idea (honestly the context and notes along with each arc make more sense if you know what story it is, but HAH theres like no fanfic tags for the crossover that i have with mha besides character tags lmfao so HAVE FUN WRITING AN UNDERRATED FIC SUCKERS. ...ah.)

also manga spoilers

USJ: When I reached over to touch / your wound gently / I had realized you were ever slightly shivering

Interlude (conversations, statements, wrapping some things up): Spreading out your injured wings / after all this time

Sports Festival: With nowhere to go / your future unknown / You gaze at the sky as If you're wondering

Stain/Internships: As the meaning of “alive” / is coming to life all around / So now within my heart / I promise, on my part / That I’m here to keep you safe

Final Exam: From a faraway land comes / a chilling breeze / That is rustling through the pages of your story

Training Camp: There is a wistful glow that you wear / But hey, it’s no big deal / don’t you see?

Kamino [Deku or Kacchan? or both?]: Even if this world falls apart / I will / be always by your side / don't matter what / Anything that might be / blocking out the light

Provisional Licensing Exam: All these feelings that have turned to stone you know… / Cannot follow you into / tomorrow wherever we go

Shie Hassaikai/Work Studies (post note: REMEMBER NIGHTEYE- HE DIED. HOW DID I FORGET THAT?????): So now within my heart / I promise on my part / that I'm never going to / forget you

School Festival (Concert): As long as you know / that you’re not alone / Then you can overcome anything you see!

Pro Hero Arc (Endeavor redemption, the scar, the nomu and hawks mentioning the MLA): You are dreaming of the day / you’re once more in the sky

Joint Training Arc (SHINSOU!!! 1-A vs 1-B): And if what I say / can still find its way / There’s nothing to fear / when we are side by side

(MLA Arc, or My Villain Academia where HOLY SHTI EVERYTHING UPGRADES. but i wont show this cause this is strictly midoriya pov)

Endeavor Agency Arc (hawks drops hints, the main three take work studies, except idk if that'll still happen because logically theres no point to it. maybe work on cultivating analysis? remember that endeavor can understand deku mumble. maybe he practices more of a support role? katsuki takes a slight issue to this but deku reassures him that its fine, and that he doesn't care either way. its mainly spite that led him here.): Take as many colors from them as you can… / And paint your future just as / you had planned!

Paranormal Liberation War. ..am I really gonna do this?: I swear, ‘til I die / as long as I’m alive / I’ll be here by your side!

Dark Hero (depression) im most likely going to stop before this but how do i stop the fuck out of afo: And the bond that’s always held us close / you know… / It is stronger than you may believe / It will never let go

imagine i do a twist where the mirror world was related to all for one or something or the doctor and was a weird experiment (yknow how dabi was technically kidnapped and was in a coma for 3 years but was meant to be like a backup successor or some shit. what if... midoriya...? because he was quirkless so he must have a lot of hatred, and the fragmented memories could only strengthen that, and when he wakes up from being kidnapped during the training camp and HOLY SHIT I JUST HAD AN IDEA)

[pochipop]

＃ MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — YOU'RE A MASTERPIECE: PAINTING ON HIS SKIN (JUMIN X READER).

#. synopsis! — jumin let's you use his skin as a canvas for your artwork .

#. characters! —jumin .

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Jumin looks at you over the rim of his wine glass, the purple-red liquid inside sloshing a bit as he adjusts his wrist and sets his gaze on your own. His dark irises almost feel intimidating in the moment, but the quirk of his brows gives way to a curious undertone.

"Too weird?" You question, backing off a bit just in case.

If Jumin doesn't fancy becoming a human canvas for your artwork, that's completely and totally okay, and it's his choice to make, of course. Still, you'd really like it if he could say yes. . .

"A bit strange," he acknowledges, "but I see the appeal."

He adjusts his wrist again, bringing the glass to his lips. Jumin takes a slow sip of wine as you process his reply.

"You. . . You do?" Comes your slightly confused response.

Jumin has never particularly struck you as someone who would enjoy more outlandish art forms. Of course, with a photographer as a best friend, he's long been accustomed to some displays of artistic prowess; but you imagine painting on someone's skin and taking pictures of a sunset are two completely different things that evoke entirely different responses.

"Yes," he nods, "you've mentioned before on a few occasions that seeing open space as an artist often fills you with inspiration. I imagine that, although I'm a living person, my skin may not seem so different to canvas or paper. . . Just an open space to take advantage of."

Albeit very literal in his analysis, Jumin roughly hits the nail on the head. His bare skin does inspire you, very much so. It fills you with ideas and inspiration, and to actually have the opportunity to paint on him would be a dream come true. You're almost bristling with excitement before he confirms or denies his participation in the matter.

"Do you have any ideas for the piece?" Jumin asks.

"Ah, well, —roughly," you nod. "The design will depend mostly on what body part you lend me for a while. But, I'd like to do something floral, if that's alright with you."

"I'm a businessman, not a painter," Jumin replies, lips curving up at the sides a bit in amusement. "Designs should be left to the artist."

"Alright," you smile, "something floral then."

He appreciates your confidence the second time around.

"Lovely," Jumin comments, placing his glass of wine down on the counter.

He reaches up to loosen his tie, pulls it halfway off, then pauses to look over at you once more. His handsome features stand out in this position, —a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, sophisticated aura cracking just a bit to welcome the warmth of your presence, nimble fingers grasping at the material of his necktie. This scene might as well be art itself. . .

"Will an arm suffice?" Jumin asks.

"Perfectly," you nod.

He strips his upper half, and says nothing about the way your eyes rake over him like you've never seen him this way before. Your fingers, lips, and palms have smoothed over the exact skin you're subtly gawking at a million times; but each time feels like the first.

Jumin folds his clothes neatly and sets them aside before following you to your makeshift art studio, —the one he set up for you in a room he'd previously had no use for. Now, it's utilized often, and he thinks it was well worth the time, effort, and money. He loves coming in here, though he hasn't had the chance recently with work piling up so high. Canvases lean against one of the walls, some blank, some with half finished paintings littering the fronts. If it were anyone else, you'd be awkwardly scrambling to explain that "it's really not like that, —painting is a process!" but Jumin, he already knows as much. You don't feel the need to justify your talents to him of all people.

"I enjoy coming in here," he smiles softly.

It makes him feel closer to you, like he's staring into pieces of your soul. Ones that he just isn't privy to in any other way.

"I'm thankful to have it," you reply, "it's given me a space completely to be creative, and I've never really had that before. I'd always been used to painting in my bedroom growing up, and when I lived alone, there were never any extra rooms to turn into a studio like this."

And perhaps the best part of all is that you never even asked for it. Jumin simply did it of his own volition because he saw your passion and wanted nothing more than to be supportive of it. That's why he hangs your art pieces throughout the other rooms as well.

"It was V's idea, technically," Jumin says. "I simply paid for it to be done."

"Well, whatever the case, I'm grateful," you assure him.

He takes a seat on the sofa in the corner of the room, —the one you crash on sometimes when deadlines get tight and you need a quick power nap before getting back into the swing of things. You're sure to place a towel under his arm, not wanting to stain it.

You gather up the needed materials and set off to work. Jumin tells you that he likes the way the brushes feel against his skin, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t help but hope that that leaves room for this to happen again sometime in the future. Maybe you could even have Jihyun come and photograph the final pieces, —maybe present them at one of your galleries in the future. But, you sober yourself enough to realize that you’re getting far too ahead of yourself. After all, this could turn out like hell.

That doesn’t seem particularly likely, though. Paint takes to Jumin’s skin surprisingly well, and when you joke to him that it seems to you that it was always meant to come to this on account of that fact, he gives you a low chuckle in reply. One that makes your fragile little heart skip a beat: just for him.

“It’d be quite the honor for that to be the true meaning of my existence,” he says.

It’s only a half-joke that he responds with. Even after all this time, Jumin has a particular way of crawling under your skin, sending shivers to your core and lighting you up inside.

He watches you work with curious eyes, much unlike the gaze you often see him wear when he’s sitting at a desk littered with paperwork and various contracts. This look of his is much softer, —sweeter, even. He’s not evaluating anything. . . He’s simply admiring.

“Honestly,” you say, “I was surprised you agreed to this so easily. I was kind of prepared to pull out the puppy dog eyes and lay some affection on pretty thick to sweeten the deal.”

“Well, I suppose there’s no need for the puppy dog eyes,” Jumin answers, an amused smile playing on his lips, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind the affection.”

“Noted,” you comment, giggling just a bit, “—but I’ll save that for later. With my luck, I’d lean in to kiss you and these white dittanies would end up looking like globs of nothingness.”

“Later then, but I’ll hold you to that.”

You know he will.

“Still, I think you captured the dittany flowers perfectly. I saw them in person once at a wedding, —the bride’s bouquet had both those and baby’s breath. At the time, I thought it was a strange decision,” he admits, “but looking at them like this. . . I suppose I understand quite well now.”

“They’re commonly associated with passion and love,” you add. “That’s actually why I chose them for this. . . I thought they suited you.”

“I’m not quite sure what standard you’ve used to measure that, but you’re the artist here, and they look lovely. So, in the end, I suppose you were right.”

“Still,” Jumin speaks up again quickly, “—aren’t these plants aphrodisiacs as well?”

“A-Ah,” you stutter, having been caught off guard by the suddenness (and bluntness) of his statement, “could be, yeah. . .”

He has to admit that you look incredibly cute when you’re flustered, the way you stumble over your words and turn your gaze away, pretending to focus intensely on the task at hand. If you were ever to work at his office, he’s certain he’d never get a single thing done ever again.

“Anyway, this should do it,” you say, adding a few final strokes of green to the stems.

Placing the paintbrush into one of the small containers filled with water, you pull away from Jumin’s arm and allow him the freedom of moving it around. You tried to work relatively quickly so as to not make him sit around in a single position for too long, but art is, above all else, a process. And it’s one that often takes a great deal of both time and effort.

Jumin admires your artwork like he’s staring at something priceless.

The best part of it is that, to him, he really is. He feels beyond honored to have this stunning painting of beautifully full, white-hued flowers flowing along the expanse of his forearm. Though you can see innumerous flaws in it now that you’ve stepped back, it’s almost impossible to dislike it when Jumin looks at it like that. . . Like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, simply because you created it.

“I wish. . . That I could keep it here forever,” Jumin whispers, tone achingly sincere.

“Sorry,” you apologize, “but it’s better to leave the permanent stuff to the tattoo artists. Which I certainly am not.”

Though he yearns to keep your piece there on his flesh forever, the logical side of him knows that you’re correct. Even so, he won’t be washing it off for quite a while. At least not before he’s taken fifty and then some pictures, all of which will inevitably end up blurry, before coming to you and asking for your help with it. Maybe he wants to be self-sufficient, even when it comes to areas he’s unfamiliar with (like proper photography skills and otherwise technologically related issues.) Or, maybe he’s just stalling for time, wanting to prolong the inevitable washing of his forearm for as long as he can.

The world may never know.

[greyeyedmonster-18]

(@impishtubist dropped this prompt on my doorstep and i couldn't let it go. AU in which Remus is a leather-clad rebel with causes and Sirius is a soft-spoken, dorky, single dad.

this could probably be an entire fic, but i...apologize for not delivering that. there is a companion art piece to this though that hopefully will also be posted today.

about 5k

xx)

WISH YOU WERE HERE

Sirius walked quickly between the stacks of the library, messenger bag over his shoulder, knowing exactly where he needed to go, and having exactly 7 minutes to get what he needed. He accounted for the errand down to the second, putting in a cushion of 15 minutes to stop and get a tea before class. His kid's voice in his head telling Sirius to stop and smell the roses every once in a while, Dad.

Today, the rose he was smelling was a strong cup of black tea. No cream, no sugar, just how he liked it. Even though he was certain Harry would also have something to say about the lack of adventure in this routine as well. Would it kill you to try something new? Maybe? Sirius had stopped trying to convince Harry that he tried new things in research every single day; numbers and calculations transforming before his eyes were exciting and different. To Sirius, anyway. Which was exactly why he was in the library in the first place, to look for a new book he could skim through, walking through the aisles confidently, reading the markers on the sides to signify he was almost--

SMACK

Sirius's head collided with something hard, causing him to stumble a few paces backward, his glasses falling off his face. He thought it might have been a display fixture--Sirius had done that a few times before when he hadn't been paying attention and things were at precisely the wrong height--but the stream of violent swearwords that followed after told him otherwise.

"Shit, mate, you've got the hardest fuckin' head," said the other voice, and Sirius bent down to pick his glasses up off the floor.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't looking and in a bit of a hurry. Just...sorry." Sirius muttered quickly, despite the throbbing in his head. He hadn't accounted for this.

He hadn't planned for a concussion.

He put his glasses on and stood up, pressing his palm to his forehead as he did so, the stranger with the voice and the swears finally coming into view.

Scars.

An entire sleeve of tattoos including every single one of his fingers.

Leather pants.

"Oh," he said, amber eyes scanning Sirius slowly. Suddenly Sirius had wished he had listened to Harry when he had told him khakis weren't on trend anymore. The man removed ran a hand over long sandy hair, smoothing some of it back into place, and smiled warmly, "You've still got a hard head but uh," he raised an eyebrow at Sirius, "No need to be sorry. Not at all."

Sirius felt hot, hoping it wasn’t creeping onto his face, hoping he wasn’t about to sweat through the back of his collared shirt. But this stranger had on leather pants and a tight t-shirt and had no business being in a library, in the maths section any more than Sirius had business in the Arts department dicking around with paints. Two disparate things. It made very little logical sense, yet Sirius had a throbbing headache to prove that this was a reality and some man clad in leather with charming freckles and a low ponytail was staring at Sirius with a decidedly stupid and arrogant grin.

“Unless my head is harder than yours and I’ve permanently addled you?”

“Uh…no, no, sorry. I’m actually late. Are you okay?” Sirius asked looking at his watch. He had seven minutes exactly and this had taken up all of them and bled into his tea time. He needed to leave now if he wanted to make it to his lecture hall on time.

“I’ve never been better,” the man responded, tilting his head as he studied Sirius’ face, “In fact, this might have made my entire day. Week, even. Month potentially.”

Sirius cleared his throat, “I think you should get your head checked out…I’m late. Ice, maybe? 20 minutes on, 20 minutes off.” He gave the man a nod, before turning around and walking back down the stacks from where he came. He was not going to be late, and he certainly wasn’t going to be late for this.

“Are you a doctor?” he asked, following Sirius, nearly matching his stride and pace. Long, leather-clad, legs kept up just fine. Sirius pretending wasn’t looking at combat boots, transfixed by the bit of sock poking out over the top that was a soft pink. It wasn’t often Sirius cared about what he dressed in and most days he kept it simple, white shirts, smart tailored trousers, black shoes. His kid called him a dork sometimes but it was really just practical. Except at this particular moment, Sirius was wishing he hadn’t picked out khakis. His black ones at home were much nicer, fit better, Sirius had chosen khakis so he would look approachable to students, and oh, how this had backfired.

“Do we need a doctor?” he asked, looking at Sirius, and Sirius thought he might like to run into another wall. Start the day fresh and forget all about freckles.

“No, I’m fine. Why would you think I am?”

“You gave me medical advice.”

“I gave you basic first-aid.”

“So you’re a nurse?”

“No,” Sirius said, straightening slightly, “I’m late.”

“I’m Remus. Is that why you’re running?”

“I’m not running, I’m--”

“Tall.”

“I was going to say--”

“Very fit.”

Sirius tripped over the threshold of the library, stubbing the toe of his black dress shoes on the concrete outside, trying to make sense of the verbal assault. He was definitely sweating now, and he was wearing khakis. He was about to teach his first class with sweat marks on his ass, and body odor, and his approachable first impression notion was slipping away.

“Careful,” Remus said, a tattooed hand reached out to grab Sirius’s forearm to ensure he didn’t fall completely. Two concussions in one day. On the first day. “Is this normal for you? The falling and running into people?”

“No,” Sirius stressed, pushing his glasses up his nose and running fingers through his hair, black curls escaping from the gel he had used that morning that was usually enough to last all day. Apparently not when he was rushing around and sweating and fighting down blushes from strangers, --from a Remus--that wouldn’t relent and wouldn’t simply let him go. “I told you I’m late, and I really need to go. I’m sorry I ran into you--”

“Sure know how to let a bloke down gently, don’t you?” Remus asked, giving Sirius another smile that sent flutters into Sirius’s stomach. He did not account for this at all when he left the house this morning.

Sirius sighed, “I’m a professor. I have a class to teach that I am…barely going to make it for. I am sure you’re very nice, Remus, and I am glad you’re okay but I can’t stay and talk with you. Even if I really want to know why you were in the library.”

“Grabbing a book or two, of course.”

“Of course, right, sorry. That…was silly of me to wonder. Anyone…can read.”

“You think I look illiterate?”

“I think you look out of place, but that’s not the point,” Sirius straightened and extended his hand to Remus, “Please enjoy your classes, pleasure running into you.”

Remus grinned, and met Sirius’s hand, giving it a squeeze, “Hm…you know what they say about big hands, right?”

“Piano players.”

Remus laughed, “What?”

“People say that…if you have big hands you should play piano? I…do. So…no need to wonder.”

“Right, piano playing, exactly what I was thinking,” Remus nodded, biting down on his lip, the tiniest bit of tongue poking out and for the first time, Sirius saw a glinting of silver.

Tongue piercing.

“You can let go now.”

“Pity. Where do you teach?”

“Bartleby Hall,” Sirius said finally pulling himself away from the stranger, and heading towards the lecture hall, “I teach physics in case you were going to ask that next! But really, please get your head looked at, have a nice day--” Sirius didn’t wait for a response, he didn’t wait to see if he would be sucked into another round of 20 questions, or if he would start playing a game of look and find for other piercings on Remus’s body. The tattoos and the tongue piercing were enough surprises for a single day.

--

It was a long first day of classes. Sirius finished the day in his office, making sure everything was precisely where it should be. Paperclips in a jar, not one left loose on his desk; files were arranged by date; books were marked and his chair was pushed in. He had grabbed his trash bin, intending to put the bag into the larger receptible out front, not wanting anyone to clean up after him, before closing the door to his office.

“Did I miss office hours?”

Sirius dropped his keys.

“I have them again on Wednesday,” Sirius said simply, quietly, as he bent over to pick up his keys, a soft hum coming from the man behind him as he did so. Remus. This Remus was persistent. He was still here. “Did you get your head looked at?”

“Do you have anything else you can drop?”

Sirius nearly dropped his keys again at the question, turning around to look at Remus, tall and covered in leather, hair now out of its ponytail and falling in soft sandy waves over his shoulder. A widow's peak. Slight stubble. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, did I cross a line?”

“I don’t even know where they are to be perfectly honest with you.”

“Then I’ll say you have a nice arse instead,” Remus shrugged stepping forward, “Professor Black.”

Sirius was used to being the smartest person in every room he walked into. Unfailingly bright and logical. He could see solutions and answers everywhere, his mind looking something like building blocks stacked neatly on top of one another, a game of Tetris where everything could fit together and work if you took the time to figure it out. Sirius had been playing Tetris all day, from the moment he woke up and dropped his kid off at school, to the time he spent calculating how much time he could spend in the library, somehow still managing to make things fit together and align despite the disruption. But Professor Black twisted a bunch of blocks the wrong way, and one by one they all toppled over, Sirius’s mind in complete disarray, his heart thudding in his chest, and the sweat, the blush, the fever.

“I think I’m ill…” muttered Sirius.

“I asked around about you. You’re very popular.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s not what your secretary said,” Remus inclined his head down the hall where the front desk was, “Beloved by all students, very smart, office hours are particularly popular…”

“I teach Physics. Quantum Physics. Hard sciences, hard subjects, of course, my office hours are popular.”

Remus chuckled biting back a smile, “Sure.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Finding you.”

“Why?”

“Oh, come on, you seem smart, I think you know why I wanted to find you.”

Tall.

Very fit.

Nice. Arse.

Get a hold of yourself.

Sirius cleared his throat and began walking past Remus and out to the front. Remus followed. That shouldn’t have surprised him, but Sirius had things to do. He had things to do this morning when they had collided and now wasn’t any different. Dinner to make, a kid to pick up from school and get started on homework, lesson plans to review, and a cold as the antarctic shower to take after sweating all damn day.

“You walk fast.”

“You’re persistent.”

“I know.”

“And presumptuous.”

“I can be that too.”

Sirius sighed, hating that Remus was able to catch up with him, “I don’t understand why you’re so intent on following and finding me. You waited all day?”

“Now who’s presumptuous? I had class, thank you.”

“You’re a student?!”

“And even more, what, have you never seen a life-long learner, Professor? Late in life student?” asked Remus and Sirius kicked himself mentally for not thinking his comment through. Of course students came in all shapes and sizes.

“Don’t call me, Professor.” Weird way to say "sorry"....

“Well, I don’t have a first name and didn’t want to be rude.”

“Can talk to me about my arse but won’t address me without a title? Interesting."

“I didn’t know talking about your arse was rude. I thought it was a compliment. Still is, still stands.”

“Are you--” Sirius halted in his tracks on the pavement. He could see his car in the distance in the car park, students coming and going for the day. He turned around to face Remus who was wearing a smug grin, a lazy eyebrow raised, arms folded over his chest. “Are you staring at my arse?”

“And if I am?”

Sirius inhaled deeply, “What do you want?”

“Have dinner with me.”

“What?”

“Dinner. Food. Do you eat?”

“I…yes…I do. But--”

“Tomorrow night?”

“It's Tuesday.”

“Observant.”

“That’s not a date night.”

“It’s a date?” Remus gasped, “I’m flattered.”

“You asked me out! Didn’t you?” Didn’t you? Dear fucking god. Didn’t he? Wasn’t dinner a date invitation? Lunch wasn’t, coffee wasn’t necessarily a date, but all the books clearly said that dinner was a date material.

“Could’ve been an apology dinner, you know, for knocking skulls with you this morning.”

“...I am…so sorry. Today has been very weird, I didn’t mean to--”

Remus reached out and put his hand on Sirius’s arm again. Reassurance. “I’m messing with you. I definitely meant date. But I wasn’t aware that Tuesday couldn’t be a date night. Did you read that somewhere?”

“Uhm..no, I…just…”

“So are you free?”

“I…will have to let you know. Check my…planner.”

“Very cute.” Remus said, “Do you have a pen?”

“What?”

“A pen, for writing, dear.”

Dear.

Went right up there with Professor Black. Sirius reached into his bag, pulling out a pen and giving it to Remus, not pausing to question his intentions. Remus grabbed Sirius’s hand, opening it up and scrawling something on his palm, eyes only glancing up to catch Sirius’s for the briefest of seconds. Mischievous. Arrogant. Presumptuous.

Oh, you’re gone. This is it.

“Here’s my number. I don’t have a cellphone, but I do have a landline. Give me a call once you check your planner?”

“I…” Sirius took his hand back, staring at the set of numbers, “....Okay.”

“Can I keep the pen?”

“Are you an unprepared student?”

“No, it just means I’ll have to deliver it back, and I’ll have an excuse to come to your office again. One that isn’t rude and isn’t about your arse.”

--

Sirius was pacing around his room, nervous energy radiating out of every pore in his body, while his fifteen-year-old sat on the bed in his room, grinning from ear to ear at the sight in front of him. He hadn’t invited Harry into his room but hadn’t kicked him out, even though his teenager had nothing but fashion advice to give out, critiquing every aspect of Sirius’s outfit, enough for him to change his clothes three times. There were shirts on the floor, a pair of trousers as well, that Sirius was told to swap out for a pair of nice jeans instead, it’s a date, not a business meeting, Dad, and the entire idea, the prospect of going on a date in the first place, was entirely too stressful and made Sirius want to pull his hair out one by one.

“So how’d you meet this guy?” Harry asked, watching as Sirius ran a comb through his hair, pushing back dark curls away from his face. He needed a hair cut, he had been thinking that for weeks and had put it off, his hair the slightest bit too long. No wonder the hair gel hadn’t kept it in place.

“Just at work,” Sirius told him, “Have you started your homework?”

“In study hall today, almost done. And he gave you his number?”

“Yes…”

“Well, when is he picking you up? Do I get to meet him? I think I should.”

“Meet him?”

“Yeah, you know, make sure he brings you home on time. Back by curfew…or not.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at Harry through the mirror, his kid giving him a cheeky grin, wiggling his shoulders suggestively, “I’ll be home at a reasonable hour, I assure you, Harry.”

“I’m just saying, what if you have a good time? You can stay out. I’m almost sixteen--”

“You just turned fifteen.”

“Semantics, Dad,” Harry shrugged, “I’m saying you could stay out however long. Can’t Uncle Reg come? You can text him and say hey, I’m having a great time on this dinner date and would like to turn it to drinks, watch my brat for me. Oh! I’ll even take the bus tomorrow. in case you want to...you know have a sleepover.”

Sirius laughed softly as he picked up his jar of hair gel on the top of his dresser, putting some between his fingers and rubbing it to warm the product before putting it onto his hair. Taming curls had been a routine for him for the past ten years. Sirius often thought it was unfair that for someone who liked order and reason so well, he had been cursed with curly hair that had a mind of its own in the mornings. “I will be home by 10, I can guarantee that, love.”

“My dates last longer than that…” Harry said making a face, “Maybe you skip the hair gel today?”

“I’m sorry, with all these instructions you’re giving me today, one would think you have an issue with how I look.”

“I just mean, it’s a date,” Harry rolled his eyes, “You haven’t exactly been on one since--”

“I know, Harry,” Sirius said though he stopped his ministrations with his hair. He usually used two layers of gel, he hated when it came out of place. It drove him up a wall and Sirius was quite okay with avoiding spontaneity or unexpected occurrences such as hair troubles and…men in leather.

“It’s not so formal, Dad. That’s all. They’re supposed to be fun. You know what fun is, right? The kind that isn’t…organizing your files or rearranging the silverware or getting a new calculator.”

“Cheeky…” Sirius said, screwing the lid back on and putting the gel on his dresser, right next to his box of jewelry and a photograph of himself and Harry. He took a step back to examine himself in the full-length mirror. Black jeans cuffed at the bottom, his socks were black to match, pale blue sweater that he tucked into his jeans, gold watch on his wrist, hair pushed back away from his face. “Hand me my glasses, would you?”

“Dad, come on, you don’t need them. They’re for reading.”

“How am I going to read the menu?” Sirius asked, walking towards his bedside table to grab his glasses that were placed next to a stack of books, but Harry beat him to it.

“Dad, I love you, but you’re a bit of a dork, and you have nice eyes. Everyone says so.”

“Who says that?”

“I dunno. Mrs. Weasley? Bill? Oh, my English teacher Mr. Hastings. Though, I don’t think I was supposed to know that. There’s also some Mum on the school board who thinks it too…I told her she was barking up the wrong--”

“Harry!”

Harry grinned again, “Kidding, I didn’t say anything. Now, I know you’re the adult here and you know way more than me, but given that I’ve been out on more dates than you in the past five years, I think I might have a little bit more experience…”

“You know, Harry, this man and I met when I looked just how I normally do and I still got his phone number so as much teenage experience you have to offer,” Sirius reached over and took his glasses from Harry, putting them on his face, “I can manage this on my own.”

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged, “Can you at least untuck your shirt? It works better.”

“Remind me to cancel your subscription to Teen Vogue.”

--

Sirius’s next day at work had him feeling entirely different. Arriving home well after 10pm, his brother in the sitting room with an amused expression as Sirius tried to talk his way out of what had actually occurred with I just lost track of the time and not that Sirius had sat across the table from a man who wore leather, even on dates, and talked for hours. A man who had picked Sirius up on a motorcycle, drove carefully and let Sirius hold onto his as tight as he wanted (though Sirius wasn’t holding tighter because he was worried necessarily). At first, it was terrifying, much like the entire scenario.

At first, he was sweating and nervous, hesitantly straddling the bike behind Remus, helmet on his head though he knew it was going to mess up his hair. At first, he barely touched Remus to hold on as they started out of Sirius’s neighborhood, the bike rumbling beneath them, exhaust fumes filling his senses, and cold air biting at his cheeks. But then it felt like flying as they moved down the streets together, nerves disappearing into the night sky with every turn, Sirius daring to hold on a bit tighter. By the time they had got to the restaurant, Remus was reaching for Sirius’s hand as if he had held it a thousand times before, as if it was meant to be held by his.

Sirius let him.

Remus let Sirius pull out his chair, and Remus let Sirius pay after a brief argument.

Sirius took off his helmet and let Remus fix his hair across the table, there’s a piece that’s sticking up, do you mind?

Remus filled the evening easily with stories of other adventures on that motorcycle--how he had traveled the world for years after his mother had passed, finding hidden locations to eat, working on farms for months at a time to get some money before moving on to the next thing. Time spent in strange cities where he didn’t speak the language, seeing the entire world before deciding it was time to go back to school.

School could wait, but I was only going to be young and have all the nerve in the world to travel once.

He collected postcards, from all the places he went to.

I’ll have to show them to you some time.

Sirius did his best and tried to make his life seem half as exciting as Remus’s was. Different sorts of adventures. Instead of traveling, Sirius had chosen to become a parent, deciding that his big house and his well-earned paycheck and reputation deserved to be shared with someone else. Boyfriends came in and out, Harry had been there the entire time. Instead of working odd jobs and experiencing and creating, Sirius got more degrees and research grants and a respectable teaching job at a University. Instead of exploration, Sirius chose simplicity. Monotony. Domesticity. And Sirius loved his life.

He didn’t expect a run in with leather to turn that upside down, Sirius still struggling to collect the Tetris pieces every time Remus opened his mouth and smiled at him. Laughed as his jokes. Asked about physics and actually seemed interested.

They closed the restaurant down and Sirius found himself wanting to stay with his hand entangled in one that was scarred and weathered and told stories that Sirius’s well-manicured ones never could. They took the longest walk.

Slow. Measured. No sense of urgency.

In step.

Smart dress shoes next to black combat boots.

Sirius was dropped off at his front door close to midnight, way past his bedtime, and unprepared for the way his fifteen-year-old would interrogate him in the morning when they drove to school.

I had the nicest time with you.

Remus kissed his cheek, having to stand on his toes to reach the top of Sirius’s cheekbone just under his temple.

Me too.

Sirius had managed to make it through a day of teaching classes without dissolving into giggles and having flashbacks of a night looking into amber eyes and letting himself laugh loudly and unapologetically. To the moments when Remus would innocently drop compliments, You’re quite handsome, and terms of endearment into conversation like they were commas. A pause between words only left space for dear and nothing else. Sirius was on his way to his office when the front secretary stopped him.

“Professor Black, this came for you while you were out.”

“Oh, thank you, it could’ve gone into my mailbox, no need to deliver everything personally, Haddie,” He said, and the young woman smiled a little.

“He…wanted to make sure you got it today and didn’t trust that you would check your mailbox. I may have told him you usually do that on Thursdays.”

“Right you are. Sorry,” Sirius said, taking the paper from the woman's outstretched hand and examining it, a smile spreading slowly onto his face, and his heart speeding up.

WISH YOU WERE HERE.

In bold bright yellow letters, across the scene of what looked like Barcelona, La Sagrada Familia depicted in an aerial photograph. Sirius flipped it over, biting down on his lip as he read the messy handwriting.

Had to miss your office hours again today, unfortunately. but…I might settle for dinner.

You can pick me up this time, and it can be on an actual date night.

You know where you can reach me. Find me. Call me. Everything.

-R

Sirius’s breathing hitched softly, walking away from the front desk so no one was around to witness the faint pink hitting the tops of his cheeks.

An address.